BRENDAN GALLAGHER VERDICT
THERE was plenty to absorb and digest at Twickenham, not least the sight of a packed HQ enjoying a full throated six nations encounter again – well the second half anyway – after the mind bending awfulness of last season's empty stadia.
I want to major though on the tale of the two captains, who both slugged it out for the full 80. We are of course talking about Northampton colleagues and mates Courtney Lawes and Dan Biggar and according to stats guru Stuart Farmer this is only the sixth time it has happened in the Championship in all its guises.
Lawes is 33, Biggar is 32 and in one way they are late bloomers. They have been around for a long time and neither won universal approval in their early years although their talent was never in doubt. Our appreciation, however, has grown apace in recent years until both have attained national treasure status in their respective rugby communities.
In a sport still dominated by privately educated stars it is also admirable that both come from the state sector, albeit the products of well-known rugby nurseries. Lawes learned his stuff at Northampton School for Boys and Biggar at Gowerton Comprehensive, formerly Gowerton GS.
Curiously neither is the club captain at Saints, that's Lewis Ludlam, which is probably a first.
Lawes, with his Jamaican heritage perhaps coming into play, is always pigeonholed as laid back. I recall a long car drive in France many moons ago when we gave Dorian West a lift from Toulon to Montpellier and he spent most of the road trip raving about the teenage Lawes at Franklin's Gardens – and wondering how they could somehow put a rocket up his bum, to use the technical term.
Well Nobby and Saints coach Jim Mallinder did find a way but in the early days it sometimes felt like you were playing with dynamite. A succession of cowering backs were atomised by Lawes' trademark monster hits and opposition coaches kicked up a big fuss and for a while Lawes became a player refs monitored very closely.
Unfairly in my opinion because his low tacking technique has always been amongst the best in the world and generally his timing is perfect. If he's late, it's normally by an acceptably small margin. We saw a couple of vintage examples again yesterday, notably his crashing double hit on Taine Basham with Tom Curry. Basham will be sore today. and tomorrow for that matter Wayne Pivac I would give him the week off.
Off the field Lawes was still laid back and, for a while, injury prone, but as he matured he mor-phed into a totem player for England.
The father of four youngsters, he is an individual who England colleagues look up to and when Owen Farrell was injured again at the start of this tournament he seemed the logical choice as skipper.
As for Biggar, he is outwardly the opposite to laid back. Extremely vocal – excessively so in his early days – and full of nervous ticks and mannerism and clearly lives and feels every minute.
He is that rare sportsman who plays better and becomes more focussed the angrier and more animated he gets. John McEnroe would be the leader of that tribe.
He used to irritate me a little if I am completely honest, especially his haranguing of referees and claiming penalties and yellow cards but he has toned that down – his polite exchanges with Mike Adamson were a model in diplomacy, and increasingly I see only a terrific rugby player and warrior. He cares deeply about his teams and colleagues, is tough as old boots, and a great man to have on your side.
He was immense, if rather unsung, on the 2017 Lions tour, a standout for the dirt-trackers and unlucky not to make the Test team. His leadership – by example – and commitment has been a revelation at Saints and you rather fancy that he might have been the Wales skipper some time ago had Alun Wyn Jones not defied Father Time.
So ultimately both have gloriously defied their detractors and doubters and in that respect it was heartening to see Harry Randall enjoy such a bright game although it was a shame he had been taken off before it really opened up. He alone seemed capable of putting tempo into proceedings during an ugly, turgid first half that flattered horribly to deceive.
It was astonishing to read articles during the week about how the diminutive Randall – he looks like a lightweight a Tour de France climber – had been warned at various stages of his career that he was too small, too light and would be unable to absorb the knocks.
Disregarding the fact that dozens of fantastic 9s have been smallish of stature I have never understood the mentality of anybody in any walk of life who puts limits on what people can and can't do.
My favourite example of this is a non-sporting one but bear with me because it is high performance related. A Dubliner named Brendan Finucane wanted to become a pilot but all the RAF data and tests indicated it was a waste of time, as did the dodgy landings and crashes in training. But Finucane persisted.
In June 1939 when he passed out, Finucane was ranked 450th out of 750 of the Pilot officers in his intake but somebody had seen something in him, and it was noted that he demonstrated considerable skill in extremis rescuing his bad approaches and landings.
Twelve months later the country was in the mire and frankly the RAF couldn't afford to be fussy. Finucane was pressed into service and by the time ‘Paddy' Finucane DSO , DFC and two bars, was shot down and drowned in the channel in 1942 he had claimed 32 kills and was one of the most lauded and admired fighter aces of World war 2.
Don't pigeonhole players, don't ever write them off because they don't meet random criteria or fulfil your specific idea of what somebody should or should not do in that position. I hope and expect to see Randall reach for the sky in the coming years.
