Heroes in Red claw their way back from brink
Monday January 14 2008
In the end, they were fighting for inches, like soldiers on the front in World War One.
True, there weren't any bullets, but still you marvelled at the courage of the extraordinary men of Munster.
Condemned to defeat, it seemed, and probable annihilation by Clermont in a torrid first half of nerve-shredding movement, Munster revived from the ashes of a 20-3 deficit to dig out a result that keeps their Heineken hopes alive.
If the sponsors could market a beer as potent as the Munster spirit, nobody would ever walk straight down the streets of Limerick again.
We won't know until next weekend, when they entertain Wasps in the final, crucial match of this group of death, just how much yesterday's effort has taken out of Declan Kidney's men. Suffice to say, or perhaps warn, that Munster probably had to dig deeper yesterday than they have ever needed to before, which really is saying something.
Caesar's troops were once devastated by the locals near Clermont Ferrand so Munster knew what to expect. To call it a hot reception on an afternoon when the effective temperature was little more than six degrees would be oxymoronical, but whatever the level, Munster looked several degrees under as the first 40 minutes approached its climax.
But the rugby men of Munster greet adversity like an old friend. Indeed, there is an increasing case to be made that it is only when that familiar foe rears its ugly head, that Munster produce their absolute best.
There have been many fine hours from these many fine players, but it's doubtful whether there have been any braver than yesterday's high up in the mountains of Central France.
In boxing parlance, they dragged themselves off the floor at the count of nine and by doing, so have almost certainly ended the hopes of a French side that had seemed equipped to go all the way in Europe this season.
Munster bodies were laid waste across the battle field, they were bloodied and bruised. But leave aside for a moment the physical challenge.
A score line of 20-3 represented the ultimate test of Munster's mental strengths. Once more, they proved themselves equal to the task in both facets.
Astonishingly, absurdly, as the French imploded at the implications of Munster's unerring refusal to lie down and die, the Irishmen fought back, so well that at 23-19 with 11 minutes left, they looked perfectly likely winners.
Clermont resembled a team with scrambled senses, they continued to pound but no longer with the sense of dynamism or conviction that had been writ large through their play during the first half.
Inexorably, Ronan O'Gara, offered the opportunities to punish their indiscretions by the withering toll referee Rob Debney took on the Frenchmen, calmly slotted the kicks that edged them ever closer.
In the end, Brock James's fourth penalty dragged Clermont across the finishing line but at the expense of seeing Munster within seven points and therefore clutching the prized bonus point.
Rarely in sporting legend has so much energy been expended, both on and off the pitch, for the acquisition of a single point.
But what a crucial point it may prove to be in the final reckoning.
To salute Munster individuals would be invidious, as distasteful as mentioning some on the Somme, not others. Every man who was there played his part nobly.
Tony Buckley, an unheralded prop if ever there was one, replaced John Hayes and strove manfully to hold a Clermont scrum that had threatened havoc before half time.
Alan Quinlan defended his side's line like a maiden her virtue; Doug Howlett seemed to have read the entire Munster creed before the end of his first match for the province.
Marcus Horan made a stunning 80th minute tackle on Benoit Baby inside his own 22 that in all probability saved Munster's entire European dream for this season.
They called Group 5 the group of death. But yesterday, on a foreign field, Munster looked death in the face and took it on.
Glorious, glorious days.
- Peter Bills
