It was gritty rather than glorious but the Northampton Saints won’t care. For the second time in three seasons, let this most talented of teams be crowned champions of England, outlasting Exeter Chiefs and the rest in a marathon season that reached a weary yet wonderful end.
Much like against Bath two years ago, it could not be said that Saints saved their best for the final but Phil Dowson’s side still found a way. This was a title not so much merited on the performance on the day but for the body of work across a campaign in which Northampton have set the pace. Two titles feels right for a fine crop of local lads who have risen up together – and while they bade farewell to club captain George Furbank in some style as he hoisted the trophy aloft, the rest remain to search for more as the defining English side of their golden generation.
Credit to Exeter for what they brought to the season and this occasion, which possessed a physicality and ferocity that the Prem has too often lacked of late, but the worthiness of the winners could not really be in doubt given how they defended. A sprinkle of stardust proved necessary, too, for Northampton on a day lacking in their trademark flow, from Tommy Freeman’s intelligent injections out of the backfield to the colossus Alex Coles, who went striding through spaces open and tight as both carthorse and thoroughbred. Henry Pollock was understated and unabated, still winning jackal penalties at the last to make the game safe.
“I don’t really know how to feel,” Furbank admitted as he prepares to leave his boyhood club for Harlequins this summer. “It was a mix of relief, happiness, sadness, all those emotions in one. I think we are going to have a good few days now to celebrate…”
“It’s been a pretty emotional few weeks, to be honest. I felt pretty drained coming into this game emotionally. I tried to stay away from it as much as possible, but it is tough when it is your last game for a club that means so much to you. It’s been a hell of a journey. To finish this way is incredibly special."
The occasion was given a heavyweight fight feel by the introduction of American ring announcer David Diamante, a bundle of energy and hair to invite the crowd in. The trend on this super-sized weekend of rugby finals had been decisive knockout blows: Leinster beating the Bulls 36-7 to claim the United Rugby Championship crown, the Hurricanes putting 60 points on the Chiefs of Waikato to romp to Super Rugby Pacific glory.
The first punch was landed by Northampton – although it could be said that Exeter rather presented their chin. A stab through from Archie McParland did not look particularly problematic for either Olly Woodburn or Immanuel Feyi-Waboso to deal with; the fact that each tried to created an issue. The pair came up grasping each other and neither the ball, and Freeman was all to happy to pick up the pieces.
It was a rough start for Exeter. They lost their first two lineouts and then a hooker with Max Norey injured – but Northampton invited them into the game. It was a tale of two offloads: Freeman foolish in tossing blindly from the touchline, Len Ikitau intuitive to find Campbell Ridl thereafter and allow the wing to dash for the line.
An injury to Archie McParland, helped off after a desperate attempt to deny the try, made it welcome that Alex Mitchell was fit to return to the Northampton bench. The replacement scrum half would have to go 70 minutes, though, after a month out, and contributed to a scruffy start from his side. He and Fin Smith were blasted back by Ethan Roots and Ikitau respectively as they searched for soft shoulders in just the wrong places.
The fluency that has so characterised and canonised these Saints seemed to be lacking. Over, then, to the burlier blokes. From an advanced position earned by a break from long-striding lock Coles, a series of thunderous carries around the fringes wore down the Exeter defence. Curtis Langdon went close; Smith closer, the fly-half taking the congratulatory pats after surging to the line from short range.
It was, though, becoming a sort of bar room brawl at the end of a long, heavy night – victory would have to become by any means necessary. Josh Iosefa-Scott’s answer for Exeter was a try befitting the game, an errant lineout landing in his lap and the bruising bouncer rumbling to the line, and kept the Chiefs right in touch. In such a game, a flash of red was no surprise, nor the flash of yellow that followed Northampton flanker Josh Kemeny’s high tackle on a bleeding Dafydd Jenkins.
Patched up and ploughing over, the captain’s try put Exeter in front for the first time. Hero, though, would soon turn villain: Jenkins sent to the sin bin himself after a high shot on Furbank. “These things happen,” Exeter boss Rob Baxter said. “I thought the referee was great around head contact today.”
It came just before Mitchell became the latest in a string of Saints to squander a gilt-edged opportunity, and a stalled maul furthered their frustration. It was with relief, then, rather than any great elation that George Hendy’s try was greeted, the wing squeezing into the corner with 15 to go.
Two points was a slender margin; the two minutes Northampton would play with an extra man potentially pivotal. The Saints seized the opportunity – Hendy again in the same corner, this time from a Smith grubber. Pollock, inevitably, was involved in a flashpoint, deemed to have been making a legal attempt to grab at the ball as he collided with Ridl. There was no doubting that his ruck work soon after was licit – though Smith could not strike the match-securing blow from long range, the Saints fans were already celebrating.
