Saracens looked exhausted at times in the second half, the demands of a double-chasing campaign taking their toll, but they have joined an elite that numbers Leicester and Wasps in the English game and only them and Toulouse and Toulon in the wider European one.
They came close to joining them two years ago but the demands proved too much then. How valuable have those two losing finals in 2014 proved, sharpening the desire, developing the experience.
These intangibles, allied with the excellence they have long been developing, saw them home. Exeter are renowned themselves for qualities that cannot be measured. They flocked to Twickenham in their thousands, bolstered further by every neutral in the house, the Chiefs’ head-dresses toted by those in Wasps shirts, Bath, Leicester, Quins…
The stadium rocked in the second half as it seemed, impossibly, that Exeter might draw on that spirit to overturn a 17-point deficit. On the back of a waxing driven lineout they exploited Saracens’ fatigue to cut the lead back to 10, then three with seven minutes to go. The Tomahawk Chop had never sounded so loud.
But Saracens called on that temperament of theirs to transcend aching limbs and save the best try for the end, Marcelo Bosch jinking inside to find Chris Ashton, who released Alex Goode for the line – the man of the match, player of the season, sealing the title. The popular uprising had been quelled but Exeter, like Saracens before, will be better for this. The occasion seemed to take them by surprise. They could not find themselves until it was too late.
The intangible but very real gap in big-match experience was laid bare in the first half. For half an hour the damage on the scoreboard was limited but the ominous signs for Exeter were building with every little error, with every big Saracens surge. Both sides are peopled with more than a few young England internationals but where Luke Cowan-Dickie and Henry Slade, say, have just a sprinkling of caps, Owen Farrell and Billy Vunipola already have fistfuls and, if Maro Itoje does not yet, he soon will.
Certainly Vunipola was on a mission, as his team have been now for some time. It seemed as if Saracens were targeting Exeter round the fringes but maybe it is just that, when you have a 20st bloke who can bring it to the opposition with some punch, you keep using him. And even when Vunipola Jr was not smashing at Exeter’s guts, his brother was or Schalk Brits or Brad Barritt.
It was relentless. Saracens are animals. Exeter are widely admired for their esprit de corps – again, for those intangible qualities that transform decent sides into really good ones. The trouble is that Saracens have that too. Not so much in the happy-go-lucky sense – if a team could have a smile, this Exeter side would be it – more in the ruthless, insatiable one.
It was the final 10 minutes of the first half when the intangible was translated into something concrete. Brits was the first to turn a charge at the guts into a clean break. As ever it came with a deadly step and he was away, Duncan Taylor the beneficiary from Farrell’s chip in behind.
Those young Englishmen in Exeter’s team were not enjoying the afternoon so much. Jack Nowell was beyond reproach but every time he tried to run Taylor was in his face. Cowan-Dickie struggled at the lineout and overthrew again for Saracens’ second. Vunipola Jr was off at the heart of them again and, when Chris Wyles cut inside Nowell and Slade, the latter let him go with a generosity he cannot afford if he harbours ambitions of a place in England’s midfield this summer – or ever.
Slade’s afternoon became worse in the second half when he spilled a pass just as Exeter were starting to threaten.
But there is something intangible about Slade too. He held his nerve and sparked the late try that gave Exeter a chance. Taylor went on one aggressive press too far and Slade was away for Nowell to score in the corner. This, though, is not yet Exeter’s time or Slade’s. Saracens have earned that right. They are still not much liked – but neither were Leicester beyond Welford Road. It has cost a lot of pain – and money – but the end result, particularly on the field, is one that benefits English rugby richly.
