Brendan Venter, player-coach of London Irish is a doctor. At the end of the season he will race back to the townships outside Cape Town to see the patients who have been queuing up to see him, and only him, for all the months he has been away on rugby duty over here.
I suspect they think him capable of performing miracle cures. He probably is, but I also suspect that he does not bother with anything like anaesthetic. This is a man whose intensity is almost frightening. He is the rugby medicine-man of the year.
He has done for London Irish what we would like to see done to our Health Service. He has transformed it into a model of efficiency, based on dedication and devotion. His rare science overwhelmed the religiosity of the Saints who thought they had unearthed a miracle-worker of their own in Wayne Smith, the former All Blacks coach who had put Northampton back on track after a flimsy first half of the season.
In short, London Irish beat the hell out of Northampton. A straight-up, good old-fashioned honest-to-goodness hiding. And Doctor Venter planned the whole thing. He animated his troops to fanatical defence; he calmly plugged strategic points of weakness. If the Irish scrum was going to be under pressure, as it was, then he moved his three-quarters close to the point of pressure to shorten the pass from that creaking set-piece.
So unfancied beforehand, would the cocktail of fanaticism and attention to detail among his imported South Africans, Irishmen and all-sorts be enough to upset one of the thoroughbreds of the English game? It seemed at first as if his team might be more tense than intense. Barry Everitt, their born-again rugby player, whose career looked bound more for stock-broking in Dublin than place-kicking at Twickenham when Leinster did not renew his contract, fluffed his first lock shot at goal. He also missed with a drop-goal attempt.
Northampton briefly flowed. Very briefly. No sooner had they sent the ball down the line than Paul Sackey intercepted and set off on a gallop. One-on-one against Nick Beal, the winger was hauled down. But the tide had swiftly turned.
Everitt, with an 80-per-cent success rate this season, made no mistake with his second penalty after Budge Pountney was penalised at a ruck.
The Saints captain was soon penalised again. The Irish kicked for the corner. From the line-out Justin Bishop came off his wing and battered into midfield, taking a pass from Everitt and giving one of his own out of contact to Geoff Appleford.
Before Northampton could lay hands on the ball again, they were underneath their posts facing a second conversion. From a scrum, Chris Sheasby drove. Then Hentie Martens. Then Michael Horak, irresistibly.
What could Northampton do? Fluff a penalty, through their own born-again outside-half Paul Grayson. Smith has given Grayson a second wind this season. But not yesterday on the big stage. Nothing was going right for him, or his team. They won the ball and the Irish swarmed all over them. It was cool-headed mania down there in the Irish defence.
And rather more constructive in attack. Horak gathered a bouncing ball and released Geoff Appleford who ran clean through, all the way to the last defender. He released Bishop who crossed with time to spare for a raised arm and all the gubbins that go with the knowledge of a game won.
In the closing minutes of the half, Northampton finally gained some ball and some space. But even inches from the line, the swarm would not leave them alone. The Saints came away empty-handed.
It's never easy to say how deliberately a game can be de-sanctified, but no sooner were Dan Richmond and Robbie Morris on as front-row replacements than the game entered a little rough-house phase. Well, the so-called Saints had to do something. The price for a second dust-up after a scrum was a yellow-carding for Morris and Mike Worsley. For Morris this was a sort of 10-minute martyrdom. For the greater cause. For Worsley it was a breather in the bin.
For Grayson, a chance for redemption. From the ensuing penalty, he feinted a kick to the corner, turned infield and placed a diagonal kick towards the Ben Cohen wing. The England winger timed his run and jump to perfection. Suddenly the game was no longer completely out of reach.
The Irish response was quirky. Probably not deliberately so. They went for the smile. Everitt kicked for touch and his boot flew off, almost as far as his touch-finder. Then Horak teased the Saints to distraction by wandering his way in-goal before dabbing down for the minor. It was time-eating on a nibbling scale.
Was there a final twist? There certainly was. Matt Dawson, a model of frustration throughout, tried to find Beal but saw his pass picked off by Appleford who ran the length of the field for the try.
Another desperate Northampton attack broke down moments later. Sackey set off again, this time chasing the ball along the floor. Peter Jorgensen tracked back but had to surrender possession at the ruck. The ball was swung left to Bishop whose raised arm this time really did spell the end of the game. It is almost impossible to upstage Leicester in the club game of England, but London Irish under their mighty former Springbok, their Doctor Brendan Venter, are giving it their very best shot.
Northampton: Beal; Moir (Brooks 40), Jorgensen, Leslie (Tucker 7), Cohen; Grayson, Dawson; T Smith, Thompson (Richmond 51), Stewart (Morris 5), Ackermann (Phillips 57), Brouzet, Blowers, Pountney (capt), Seely (Rennick 76).
Try: Cohen. Con: Grayson.
London Irish: Horak; Sackey, Appleford, Venter, Bishop; Everitt (Brown 79), Martens (Edwards 57); Worsley, Drotske (Kirke 46), Hardwick (Halford 46), Strudwick (capt), S Williams (Delaney 72), Halvey, Danaher, Sheasby.
Tries: Appleford (2), Horak, Bishop (2). Cons: Everitt (5). Pen: Everitt.
Referee: S Lander (Liverpool).
Attendance: 75,000
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