The Blues showed pluck, then succumbed to the inevitable

Scotty Stevenson spent Friday night at Eden Park where the Blues showed pluck, then succumbed to the inevitable.

If you came here for the numbers you’re plumb out of luck. I went for the drama and the romance that got me hooked on this damn game. I went for the story of triumph in the face of adversity. I went for the desperation and the heroism and the moments not measured on stat sheets. I came to watch the Blues shake their curse on a drizzly autumn night at their crumbling fortress. I came for the inevitable heartbreak and the pain of defeat, but can we really call it that when that is what we expect?

I went for the fans, who came late like they always do, especially on a drizzling Friday after a fight through the Auckland traffic. The maudlin dawdlers had barely found their seats by the time the Hurricanes went a try up. A lineout drive, in the wet. I missed it. I was in an elevator with the food carts, filled with corporate offerings all bound for level five, where the money resides, and the doors to the boxes are wedged wide open so you can see all the people talking about things more important than the game outside.

I had a seat in the broadcast suite where sits our security chaperone, a Chiefs fan and our Friday night mum. She sits these days because standing is too taxing. We get kisses and good wishes and we always feel better for seeing her. I watched the Blues fight back for awhile, all thrust and good intentions and, importantly this: simplicity. The Hurricanes stood their ground and gave away penalties. Every good team knows you have plenty of those to give before it really starts to cost you.

I went for Sonny Bill’s return. I still can’t figure out what his critics have against him. Reneged on a contract or something like that. Has big biceps. Probably seems threatening to a whole lot of insecure people. A Muslim. I watched him throw an offload from a Stephen Perofeta cut that put Orbyn Leger over for his first try and the Blues’ go-ahead score. Orbyn Leger. Now there’s a kid I can get behind. He comes from a wh?nau of teachers. He was learning outside the old master with the three biggest initials in the game. He has much to learn and he will in time. That’s all he needs.

The Blues tried to draw out time, slow things down. This team that talks of playing what’s in front of them and taking opportunities were trying to take away opportunities, denying the Hurricanes their ball and their chance to counter. Time and patience equals pressure. It seemed like they were beginning to understand the former, but they still lacked the latter. It was best illustrated when Murphy Taramai made a standing strip on Sam Lousi, sending Augie Pulu and Rieko Ioane down the right wing side. There came the kick ahead, which was cut off by Beauden Barrett, who was expecting it. As usual.

Oh but they were in the fight these Blues. After the game Hurricanes’ fullback Jordie Barrett admitted the Canes felt the pressure, felt themselves on the back foot against a side that had straightened the back somewhat after a win the week before. Confidence and concentration are two different things, however. The concession of a quick tap try before the end of the first half evidence enough of that.

It wasn’t just the Blues fans who were stung by that one. Referee Jaco Peyper had also seen enough and departed at halftime, citing a mystery illness. The Blues, having regained their composure in the break came out swinging in the second half, eschewing kickable goals and aiming up on the chin of their opponents. In an oftentimes exasperating period of play, it looked from a above that the Blues offensive organisers had forgotten about one entire side of the field, but persistence, if not precision, led to a try for Ofa Tu’ungafasi and the Blues took the lead once more.

There was, in the dampness, a hint of hope in the ground. There was also a TJ Perenara, who entered the game for the Hurricanes and immediately put paid to that. It was Perenara who stole the ball from Leger and almost scored from a return ball off Ngani Laumape. It was Perenara who could see the space for Nehe Milner-Skudder to score in the corner. Barrett converted the try from a position best described as somewhere near the concessions in aisle 17. It was game over then. And everyone there knew it.

What had begun as a composed and organised performance descended once more into a hodge-podge of hair trigger plays and costly mistakes. There were set piece errors, there was chaos over the ball, penalties given away at crucial times in dangerous positions. All of that patience seemed to evaporate in the chase. Gareth Evans stole a lineout and two phases later Sam Lousi crashed over the try line. It was a predatory play. It showed the fundamental difference between the team at the top of the table and the team at the bottom: it’s not a foot on the throat. It’s a steel bar across the windpipe.

The 63rd minute of this match will go down as one of the more batshit-crazy 60 seconds of rugby this year during which: Ngani Laumape almost killed Perofeta, Pulu almost maimed Beauden Barrett, TJ perenara ran around like a headless chook and Sonny Bill offloaded to no one. The minute only came to a close because the referee took pity on the reputation of the game and called a scrum.

There were still classy touches from the Blues, still glimmers of an upset in the wet. But the Blues went forward one by one while the Hurricanes regrouped on mass. They found ways to halt the home side, and then advanced through their heart with a pace that would make Patton jealous. They took more points and put the game out of reach for good.

If anything summed up the night (season, last ten seasons) it was one phase of attack on the Blues 10 metre line in the 75th minute when three passes were shovelled left, all to players in worse positions, and with the last tackled into touch. Good luck, good luck, good luck. Aw shucks.

With two minutes to go, chasing a bonus point, Laumape cross kicked to Jordie Barrett, who offloaded inside while his brother ran a decoy line on the outside and Matt Proctor, deservedly, crossed for the bonus point try. Oh the power of positive thought.

The final score was 36-15 and the fans wandered off with a shrug of the shoulders. They knew there had been moments for the Blues. But they are just that. The rest of the timeline is obscured by a fog of thought, and the haze of a haunted past.

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