This week we will mostly be concerning ourselves with gamesmanship and the Allister Coetzee furore…
Tick, tick, tick…
A video started doing the rounds on Monday morning of Montpellier’s last-minute win over Clermont at the weekend. A thrill-a-minute game for all of the 80 minutes. Well, nearly all.
Nemani Nadolo crossed for a late try that would have taken any decent video referee a single viewing to confirm. Not one player on the pitch conveyed even a modicum of doubt that Nadolo’s big mitt had plonked the ball on the line just to the right of the posts. Jerome Garces did, however, head upstairs for confirmation, presumably on account of his being unsighted.
The clock read 78:04 at that point, and was stopped for Garces’ consultation. Convinced of the try, Ruan Pienaar took the ball back to his chosen point for the conversion, where tee/water boy was waiting to quench his thirst and awaited Garces’ arm. Moments later, it came, and the clock restarted.
Which is where the ugly bit starts. The laws state a kicker has 90 seconds from the moment of the try being scored, meaning Pienaar officially had until the clock read 79:33 to whack over a conversion that most U13C players could do with their eyes closed.
And so Pienaar stood. He had a drink. He wiped his nose on his shirt. He had another drink. He then gestured to the clock, conveniently ticking down his 90 seconds for all to see. He looked back at the bench. He then gestured to the clock again.
The clock then stopped for a moment (your correspondent’s French is not parfait, but we think it was possibly for Garces to confer with the timekeeper to see if it was actually running right). Then it started again. Pienaar spat on the floor. Then he had a little chat with the tee/water boy. Then he had another drink. Then Pienaar walked a few paces after the tee/water boy to give the latter back the bottle. Then he walked nonchalantly back to the ball (40 seconds to go on the kicking clock now), this time actually placing it on the tee. Placing it took nine seconds. Nine.
He then took his four steps back to the kicking position (remember the ease of the looming kick), placed hands on hips, checked his shoes were shining, spat again, looked over at the clock, then stood still. With ten seconds to go he moved his right foot back, presumably feigning the start of a run-up (it worked, a Clermont player charged and was sent back), then finally, with four paltry seconds left, he chipped it over.
If reading the list of actions above seems pernickety, it probably takes at least as long to do so as Pienaar took faffing around with the kick. And if it’s excruciating, it’s probably only a microcosmic version of the excruciation felt by all those of Clermont allegiance as the waited for Pienaar’s little show to end. Felt by anyone, in fact, who was not closely tied to Montpellier. As a result of it all, Clermont had barely 30 seconds to restart the game and go for the winning points, all as a result of a try scored two minutes before the 80 was up.
To everyone else, it was pretty abhorrent. Laws are laws and obviously you can play them to the letter. Games are there to be won and you’ll do anything to do that. Nothing of what Pienaar did was contrary to those laws.
But rugby has to be better than allowing blatant and wanton time-wasting in this manner, just as it still – successfully – strives to be better than allowing players to feign injury or allowing players to get players from opposing teams to be sent off.
So nip this one in the bud World Rugby. Stop the match clock for kicks at goal – you could probably cut the 90 seconds to 60 as well to be honest. Let the players play and let the fans get entertained. Seeing an exciting match like that finish in such a gamesmanlike way left a sour taste.
Video credit: rugbydump.com
Plus ca change…
The letter last week from Allister Coetzee to SARU was never going to stay secret. What Coetzee had to say was too personally-involved for that. But while it had all the hallmarks of futile protestations akin to those of the chap who gets thrown out of the poker game in Lock, Stock, the between-the-lines messages for South African rugby are strong indeed.
However tied his hands may have been, Coetzee did not do a good job. His team did not seem to create an identity, nor play with any discernible strategy, nor improve skills or decision-making. He talks about the indignity he has suffered at the hands of SARU, but this letter is hardly a particularly dignified response, nor does he have a handy track record to prove his case with.
Yet he does have a point. SARU has dragged its heels once again over an important decision, one which has clearly been made weeks ahead of this column going to press.
Yet for now, Coetzee remains officially head coach, apparently because SARU cannot even agree on who the chap who checks the stats of the team from the last four years and ticks the box marked ‘not good enough’ should be. Surely that process, even under the duress of performing due diligence, does not need to take more than a couple of days.
Even if 25 per cent of what Coetzee has written is true, SARU faces just as many questions as Coetzee does over its performance, absolutely not for the first time.
Coetzee’s letter finished with an urgent request for a meeting with the SARU council, citing the need to avoid reputational damage to either side. That particular horse bolted long ago.
Loose Pass compiled by former Planet Rugby Editor Danny Stephens
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