ENGLISH PREMIERSHIP FINAL:NOT EVERY final deserves the word "grand", but today's English Premiership showdown between Leicester and London Irish should justify its billing. The Tigers are chasing the first half of a remarkable double, while the Exiles have never been club rugby's top dogs.
A crowd of almost 82,000 will also be present at Twickenham to salute the 37-year-old senior citizen of English back play, conclusive proof that you can always teach an old Catt new tricks.
While Leicester’s forward power could ultimately prove decisive, the tale of two persevering number 10s is deeply woven into the narrative.
When Mike Catt played his first game for Bath, Sam Vesty was still at primary school and dreaming of becoming a tennis pro. Sixteen years later the Cinderella of Welford Road finds himself pitted against an opponent who has had to demonstrate even more patience.
“It’s been 16 years of fairytales as well as the odd frog,” sighed Catt, fully aware that happy endings can never be guaranteed.
It did not happen for, among others, his World Cup-winning captain Martin Johnson on his Twickenham farewell in 2005, which may explain why the 75-time capped Catt refuses to confirm this will be his final hurrah.
He would prefer to be remembered as someone who crept in and out without a fuss.
“I’d rather go away slowly. Just leave me alone and I’ll go when I have to. I still think I’m capable of playing at the top level. Until I stop thinking that, I’m going to carry on going, whether I’m 40 or 25.”
For Irish to scoop the title for the first time, Catt or no Catt, they badly need to ensure that Vesty and friends play for significant periods on the back foot.
There was good news yesterday when Nick Kennedy was named in the starting line-up; the downside is that the England lock faces a fitness test on strained knee ligaments and must be rated a doubt. Irish will surely want to play the game at pace and cannot afford any limping passengers.
Nor will they be particularly keen to play to Leicester’s scrummaging strength, which places a considerable onus on Chris Hala’Ufia, both half-backs and the proven finishers out wide. Hala’Ufia takes some stopping, but he also treads a fine disciplinary line.
London Irish must keep 15 men on the field and maximise any set-piece ball they win. If their runners can find the odd hole, offloading out of contact to the pacy Armitage brothers and Peter Hewat, they have the lung capacity to confound, particularly if the game is close entering the final quarter.
“We’ve gone from being bullied two or three years ago to dominating sides,” observed Catt.
Toby Booth, London Irish’s head coach, likens his team’s season to a low-budget movie which has been an unexpected box-office hit. Leicester are more in the blockbuster category, vulnerable only to complacency and sides who act smarter.
“Statistics show that being in and winning a final are two completely different things,” Booth said yesterday.
“If we perform well we have a good chance of winning. Our self-belief over a long season has earned us this opportunity and we intend having no regrets come the final whistle.”
They will assuredly give it a lash, but the force is with the Tigers.
