A grim week for Northampton looked as if it were careering into another car crash of misery. The Saints, who had led from the outset, ceded the lead to Montpellier deep into the last quarter of a match that had slug-fest written all over it beforehand – and duly obliged. Then, with two minutes remaining, Harry Mallinder missed a long-range penalty. Misery, misery, misery.
The clouds on a wet evening parted, though, to hint perhaps at happier times ahead. Stephen Myler, so accurate of boot, stepped up to land his third penalty of the night, from an angled 40 metres, and send Franklin’s Gardens into some much-needed jubilation, after a week that had seen the loss of one of their legends, Dickie Jeeps, and the departure of one of their coaching staff. But they got away with one here, manhandled by visitors of monstrous power, who looked as if they might become the latest to benefit from the Saints’ troubles with ball in hand.
So sterile has their attack become, indeed, that they have parted company with the man in charge of it. Alex King became the fall guy on Friday, just as his predecessor, Paul Grayson, had four years ago under much the same circumstances. “Sometimes you just need a bit of change,” said Jim Mallinder, Northampton’s director of rugby. “Our attack wasn’t going fantastically well. We’re second to bottom in terms of tries scored. This is my 10th season here, and in my time we’ve only changed one member of the coaching staff. So we’re fairly stable. We don’t do it every year. But I think sometimes it’s important that you do move on.”
Not that there seemed anything wrong when Northampton scored in only the third minute. They have always had their moments, even in the bad times, and here was another pleasing on the eye. Harry Mallinder, son of Jim, remains their best hope for a creative future, and he surged on to a pass before off-loading sweetly to Louis Picamoles.
This was a big game for Northampton’s new No8, playing against the club that made him, and he repaid themby supplying an equally sweet inside ball to Calum Clark, who squeezed in at the corner. Frans Steyn was told off for shouting at Myler, as he took the subsequent conversion, which he missed. So Myler was offered another shot — and landed it. Those two points, in the end, proved the difference.
By the 20-minute mark, Myler had stretched the lead to 10-0, but nobody was fooled, least of all the Saints. If they owe most of the few tries they have been scoring lately to the muscle of their pack, they had their hands full here with a different sort of animal. Montpellier are a mighty, mighty collection of specimens. “I think they’re the biggest side I’ve ever come across,” said Mallinder plainly.
Four Georgians in the front five spells trouble for anyone, all the more so when supplemented by South Africans the size of the wild-haired bear on the flank, Jacques du Plessis, andthe hulking lock, Paul Willemse. The latter was inches short, if at all, from one early drive, the consummation of which the TMO could not determine. Then Benjamin Fall was similarly denied, having ignored two men outside him. The Montpellier captain limped off a minute later, his dignity injured as much as any of his body parts.
But eight points in the 10 minutes before half-time brought the visitors back in to it, winning a penalty at the next scrum, then scoring a beauty, Nemani Nadolo off-loading brilliantly to Joffrey Michel, who sent Steyn on a gallop to the line. It was a rare flash of brilliance from the serial kickers and maulers.
The rain bit as that first half wore on and properly settled in for the second. Despite a couple of enlightened interventions from Picamoles in the third quarter, the predicted slug-fest developed, and the tension rose. Myler and Steyn exchanged penalties, but the hosts struggled with the barrage of high balls Steyn and Nic White were adding to the general precipitation. Having missed a simple penalty from one such, Steyn kicked a second to give the visitors a one-point lead with 13 minutes remaining.
It looked as if it might be enough. But when Mallinder’s long shot fell short, White failed to find touch, and from one last counter the visitors were coaxed off their feet. The good folk of Franklin’s Gardens fell stony silent as Myler lined up his slightly less long shot. They weren’t for much longer.
