Triggering the Thomond frenzy

ONE EVENING, while I was relaxing at home on my couch, I got a phone call out of the blue from Rua Tipoki. We had never set foot on the pitch together, but mutual respect meant we often consulted each other for an opinion. Munster were to play the All Blacks in about a week and rumours were flying that a Red Haka would take place.

Rua was ringing around some of the older players and former players, wondering if some Munster tradition would be offended by a Maori war cry on the province’s behalf. On the contrary, there was approval all round. Traditions change, and new ones are being created all the time.

The All Blacks Munster reunion is now etched in history. From the moment the Munster Kiwis stepped forward for their ceremonial war cry, everyone in the new stadium knew something special was in the offing. The next 80 minutes was Thomond Park magic at its best. Only for a last ditch effort by the All Blacks, we could have been celebrating a victory to rival 1978.

Northampton arrive in Thomond tonight with a clean slate. They’ve played Munster twice and won both times and should have nothing to fear. However, sometimes big game occasions are guided by intangibles, like the inexplicable impetus Thomond Park gives Munster.

It’s not only international teams that have left with a tarnished reputation. Since the ‘78 match against the All Blacks, many other mighty teams have arrived at the famous Limerick ground, had a look around and have been utterly conquered.

Gloucester arrived in Limerick in 2003 full of swagger. They were regularly mauling the opposition off the park. The players were not even aware of the permutations that would ensure progression from the group. It was complicated and too unlikely.

Midway through the first half, Gloucester were awarded a kickable penalty but opted for the touchline. I was praying our forwards could hold them out. Our pack beat back wave after wave of attacks. A scrum was awarded to Gloucester and the pressure intensified. Marcus Horan ploughed into Phil Vickery. We won a penalty on our own line and celebrated like we had scored a try.

It was the turning point and the players and supporters recognised it. It was the spark that set Thomond Park alight and from that point on, the Munster faithful roared the home team to victory and qualification. Gloucester’s Henry Paul probably still hears the crowd ringing in his ears.

THE famous ground has been the burial site of other notable English sides on the european stage, despite the forewarning. Sale had blitzed Munster in the 2006 opening match of the pool stages. Ronan O’Gara spoke candidly to his team-mates afterwards: we could forget any trophies that season if there was no improvement. He was at the centre of the pivotal moment during the crucial return fixture. Sebastian Chabal ran at O’Gara early, perceiving him to be the weak link in Munster’s chain of defence. Rog hit him right under the jaw and sent him flailing back, Anthony Foley hammered in behind and the ball was turned over. Chabal’s appetite for contact evaporated and the crowd sensed it. People tend to forget the Munster faithful aren’t just passionate – they’re astute.

Tonight Munster are facing a Northampton team who again have nothing to fear. But they have yet to set foot on Thomond Park and run the Munster gauntlet.

Declan Kidney always told us before the big home matches: “The crowd will get behind you, but you’ve got to give them something to latch onto.” Whether it is some valiant defence on the line, a big hit, or even starting a new tradition by doing a Munster Haka, Munster have always found the catalyst to set off the fireworks at Thomond when they have to make an early statement.

Northampton must deal with whatever is thrown at them early and often if they are not to go the way of their predecessors.