REGULAR connoisseurs of these ravings will not need reminding – I have long felt 21st century Rugby Union at the elite level is well-night unrefereeable. But, until we either get rid of Sir Bill Beaumont and the other stumble-bums at the top of World rugby, or they come out of their gin induced stupor and re-write the Law Book, I am afraid we are stuck with the current mess.
But, in the cause of praising somebody for doing an impossible job well, may I present my Hero of the first round of European matches – Italian referee Andrea Piardi. With his bald dome, Piardi reminds me of another Italian icon of the refereeing fraternity – Pierluigi Collina. In taking charge of the potentially-volatile Bulls v Saracens clash at Loftus Versfeld, Pretoria, he was impressive.
Saracens, usually refereed as they are by the untalented top men of the RFU's refereeing panel, have been getting away with murder for years. On Saturday, they picked up cards left, right and centre as Piardi nailed them. Maro Itoje received a yellow card which was years late in coming; Billy Vunipola saw red and, if I have to criticise Piardi, maybe he should have marched Saracens back ten metres for a couple of Owen Farrell interjections.
But, it wasn't one way, he pinged the Bulls a few times, most-notably when he penalised their scrum half, who blatantly ignored the referee counting down the five seconds which he had to get rid of ruck ball. That's one call I have been awaiting for months now: “Grazie Signor Piardi.”
IF I was English, and he was too – I would perhaps have given my Hero prize to the irrepressible Finn Russell. He quietly pulled the strings in Bath's win over Ulster, before wandering across the Rec to join the television talking heads and absolutely crush it with his post-game analysis. The boy is a natural, we must cherish him while we have him.
Interviewing some players post-match can be like pulling teeth. I still recall Peter Jardine, now Head of Media for Scottish Athletics, as a young reporter in Ayrshire, almost having to interview himself to get some sense out of a young Ayr United striker, who was struck near dumb when Jardo stuck a West Sound microphone in front of him.
Big 'Rambo' – Alan McInally, had a lengthier commentary career than his actual playing one, yet, he was tongue-tied in comparison to his mentor: “The Balding Genius” that is Jim McSherry – or his best mate, Man of Many Clubs Robert Reilly. If Reilly had ever played for the one half of the Old Firm who could have signed him back in the day, he'd be a fixture on BBC Shortbread.
Another story of a player taking over a post-game press conference just struck me. Big Mark Yardley had an outstanding debut for St Mirren – two goals and an assist, from memory; so, the press pack had to talk to him. However, remembering he had just arrived at Love Street from Cowdenbeath, The Sun's venerable scribe Graham MacLean wondered if Yards could handle press duties.
Out he came, Graham asked the opening question and “whoosh” Yards took flight – he was a natural. Finn Russell is like that – mind you, he's also a better player (just) than Yardley.
SPEAKING OF impressive debuts, what about our boy Blair Kinghorn; two tries on his Toulouse debut. That has to be good for his confidence and it was a welcome introduction to life in France. Of course, it was only against Cardiff, and things will get tougher in the Top 14, but, a cracking start for the big man.
I HAD my concerns about the La Rochelle v Leinster game. This one had a definite edge, given the history between the clubs. Had he not retired after the World Cup Final, this one would surely have gone to Wayne Barnes; but, with him gone, it fell to another English referee – Matt Carley, hence my concerns.
I've had a poor opinion of Carley for a long while, but, to be fair, given what a difficult game this was going to be to referee, I think he had one of his better games. Sure, he missed a few things, but, this is perhaps a sign of what one of the High Heid Yins of Scottish refereeing told me: “When you referee today, at every breakdown, you have the choice of about seven things to blow for; your decision is based on MATERIALITY – which of these seven offences has the most material effect on the game – and that's the one you give.” Good referees get most of these choices correct, Carley, for my money isn't that type of referee.
However, there were few of his decisions in this game that could be argued with – by anyone other than Ronan O'Gara.
Mind you, and I cannot single Carley and his Assistants out in this respect, since no officials today appears to be willing to penalise this, but, the La Rochelle hooker Pierre Bourgarit took every line-out from at least one yard inside the pitch.
Sure it was a bad-tempered affair, in horrible conditions, but, it was still entertaining stuff.
The best comment on Carley's performance in this game came in a Facebook post by a now retired referee, who was one of the best in Scotland in his day. He said: “You have to admire Carly, no matter how many mistakes he makes (impossible to count) he remains calm. The game was a powder keg largely because of him, players become frustrated by a sense of injustice. It takes real talent to convince all 30 players they have been wronged.”
FINALLY on Sunday night, I watched the Racing '92 v Harlequins game, in Racing's spectacular indoor arena in Paris. This was – if I can indulge myself with this image – a case of a good Brazilian football team playing a good Scottish one.
“Defence, stuff that – if you score five goals, we will score six.”
I don't suppose the coaches, particularly the defence specialists, will be too-happy when they hold their debrief on Monday or Tuesday, but, this was fantastic entertainment. That's the thing with sport, you cannot choreograph the real thing. If every game achieved perfection, they would all end 0-0.
It's the mistakes which make for entertaining game, and how the players react under pressure. I thought 'Quins just deserved their 31-28 win. Oh! And that was a ballsy move by Marcus Smith, letting Racing in on the making of his highlights reel.
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