ONE OF the most-iconic of legends in Scottish sport concerns the planning for the 1967 Wembley win over England – the day when Scotland became unofficial World Champions. The authorised version has it that the team were discussing what they wanted to do on the Friday night. The consensus was: “England can play nane;” the problem – how much did Scotland want to win by.
Denis Law, the solitary survivor of the 9-3 thrashing on the same pitch back in 1961 wanted Scotland to put as many goals as possible on their opponents – he wanted at least a three-goal win, and an even bigger thrashing if it could be done. However, 'The King' was apparently out-voted by a combination of Billy Bremner and Jim Baxter, who persuaded the rest of the side: “Let's humiliate them 1-0.”
Baxter then orchestrated a one-goal Scottish win. The actual score was 3-2, but, in reality it was probably a 6-2 win for the much-superior Scottish side.
At this juncture, I can picture all the old Bufties in the Establishment Edinburgh rugger clubs asking each other: “I say, Fergus, Cameron – what's this daft old Ayrshire bugger getting at here – what's that got to do with rugger?”
Just this, the same old Bufties are probably very happy that, on Sunday, Edinburgh beat Saracens in the Heineken Champions Cup. This is the permanent curse on Scottish sport. Our next-door neighbours are bigger than us, they are richer than us, there are more of them, Yet we are cursed by having to take them on one-on-one. We don't win as often as we would like, and, when we do win – we have this great gift for not quite getting it right.
This was the case at The DAM Health Stadium on Sunday. Edinburgh ought to have won the first game, in London, but, typically Scottish, managed to find a way to blow it. Saracens came north minus every Scot's favourite Englishman – Owen Farrell; without him pulling the strings at ten, they were vulnerable.
Edinburgh had 70% of the possession, played most of the rugby – but, in the end, while they won – they didn't win by enough to give themselves an easier last 16 game – if any game in the round of 16 in a pan-continental competition could ever be described as: “easy.”
It's the big which separates the truly-professional from those who are merely playing round the edges. British Cycling used to talk about: “the one per-cent improvement,” the small attention to detail moment which makes a big difference.
I wonder if anyone in the Edinburgh camp looked at the various scenarios around the game. The match was, after all, the last one in the pool rounds – everyone else had played; did the Edinburgh management ask the right questions:
OK – we are in the last 16, but, in which position?
What do we need to do to secure a home tie?
What do Saracens need?
What are our options?
Maybe, if they had asked the correct questions pre-match and come up with a better game plan, they could have got the bonus point win they needed – although, scoring four tries against Saracens will never be easy.
Perhaps, had they known they needed at least one further score, they would have pushed harder in the second half. However, that is all speculation.
And, given that final kick was head-on to the posts, from the limit of Blair Kinghorn's kicking range, and into a strong wind, might it have been worth the risk to invite Mark Bennett, who has a stronger boot, to try his luck?
A final thought on the Edinburgh game – is Jamie Ritchie the right man to captain Scotland? I wasn't too happy with the way he interacted with the referee; and I don't think the French official was either. Managing the match officials and getting them to look favourably on your side is a key requisite of captaincy; OK, Jamie is still learning, but, he is a bit of a penalty machine and at times, when he approaches officials, he is too-obviously a chippy Jock with a grievance.
If VdM can go to Tackle School, then maybe Jamie needs diplomacy lessons.
DR ROBERT Primrose Wilson PhD, BA, OBE, better-known as Bob Wilson, has I think, a lot to answer for. He's a lovely man, a gentleman to speak with and he was a better goalkeeper than his two Scotland caps might indicate.
But, in his PhD thesis, which he wrote on the art of goalkeeping, Bob promulgated the notion that simply stopping the ball going into the net – by any means possible – was the be all and end all of being a goalkeeper.
As a fully-paid-up member of Goalkeeping Lodge Number One, I take his point. We goalies are only ever called into action when the ten numpties in front of us fail to do their jobs, so, anything we can do to spare their blushes has to be welcome.
But, like Bob, who is only seven years older than I, I learned my craft back in the days of heavy, woollen, roll neck sweaters, which doubled in weight when wet. Like him, I pre-date Sepp Maier and Reusch gloves – the main factor, I insist on why so-many of today's supposedly top keepers cannot catch the common cold.
Between Wilson's “just stop it – by any possible means” dictum and the advance of Teflon goalkeeping gloves, we've lost our way. Jimmy Cowan, Jock Fraser, Gyula Groscis, Bert Trautmann and Bert Williams – my boyhood heroes, not forgetting the fictional Bernard Briggs, they didn't need gloves, but, they could all catch the ball.
So, it is with due deference to the above heroes that I reveal my disgust at all the current big names, such as that wee Paddy nyaff Sexton, having their say on the RFU's move to lower the tackle height to waist level. Sexton will never have to play grass-roots level rugby in England, he doesn't have a dog in the fight; he plays a totally different game, so he ought to shut up.
In the brand of Rugby Union which Sexton plays, proper tackle technique is not required, it's simply a case of: “stop them by any means – fair or foul. Which isn't even OK when you consider long-term health over short term monetary gain.
Rugby is a collision sport. As such there will always be injuries, to all parts of the body. Yes, poor tackle technique will mean, some players will get their heads in the wrong place and will suffer injuries – it's a fact of life.
However, to simply say no to what is after all a safety move, because, with the best will in the world, accidents will still happen – well, to me that is crazy.
Venus de Milo, the England captain no less, has just attended (we are led to believe), 'Tackle School' in an effort to get him to to modify a defective tackle technique which has already seen him suspended twice. I still reckon the (non) benefits of this attendance will quickly be in evidence during the Guinness Six Nations. Leopards don't change their spots, so I dare say there will be carnage, and red and yellow cards aplenty when the new tackle height comes in.
However, sensible clubs and club coaches will take pains to ensure proper low tackle technique, with the tacklers getting their heads behind the hips of the guys they are tackling, and, in time, peace will reign. I am sure, there will still be the odd occasion when a tackler gets it wrong and gets hurt – but, I also feel sure, we will see the end of head-on-head collisions, at least in the amateur game.
In the professional game, money will continue to talk and I fear, unless the RFU and indeed World Rugby suddenly find the common sense they have lacked for years, we will still see bad tackling, cards galore and bad injuries.
But, let's give the lowered tackle height a lengthy, sensible trial, and see if bad habits really can be changed.
I saw this photograph, and immediately thought: "Where's Happy?" At least, we know which one is Grumpy and which is Dopey.
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