The multicoloured maverick club that is Harlequins book-ended my rugby career. A mid-Varsity flirtation with this amazing club was certainly fun and particularly when the post match entertainment was at Annabels. Gin and tonics at halftime beat oranges any day. Yes, during the time when Dick Best was a player/chef and the Claxton brothers started the fights even if they couldn’t finish them. We were cool but did not win much, especially in Wales where our occasional brilliance was tolerated because there was never any doubt over the outcome. Remember this was a full ten years before England won in Cardiff.
My move to Bath sparked an eight year journey of incredible rugby friendships and achievements. Some never forgave my return to a Carling/Winterbottom influenced Quins, and there was some historical justice in the final dénouement when the 1992 KO Cup final between these two epic clubs resulted in a last second drop goal by the mercurial Barnes to seal victory. I took it personally. This was a season when even England’s double grand slam triumph became secondary for a moment to a tribal conflict of true International class played out in club jerseys.
So many years on, Harlequins sit at a different top table. In a fortnight of exceptional European Cup rugby, of which EPCR should be rightly proud, they have raged against the form book. First Glasgow, stuffed with Scottish Internationals, couldn’t suppress their unquenchable thirst to prevail despite a flawed performance. Then, in the heat of South West France, their unpredictable brilliance was too much for a Bordeaux side whose Penaud-less backline forgot how to play (let alone tackle) until too late. The drama of a missed conversion which would have sent the Quins home as heroic losers simply added lustre to a result which will go down as one of the best ever in European Club rugby.
No-one has a clue how it will go against the French National proxy, Toulouse, where there should only be one result in the semifinal. I predict that Harlequins will fire some big shots until the muscular brilliance of the rather well resourced four-times winner will prevail. This is where the salary cap differentials apply but not enough to chase an unsustainable dream. Toulouse is a giant on and off the field, no-one can compete (please believe me).
Elsewhere, the Saints go marching on to Dublin. A glorious defeat probably awaits against the Six Nations champs (oh sorry, I mean Leinster). Rather like ‘Quins, Northampton can score from anywhere and their backline can grace an International field (remember Dingwall?). Their smiles on faces, a vibrant and loyal support plus the peerless and ageless Lawes make them a team to love.
With the burgeoning talent of a young Exeter Chiefs side bravely in the faces of Toulouse for much of the game, Steve Borthwick suddenly has an embarrassment of riches in his England squad. The emergence of so much quality, all of a sudden and boding well for 2027, resembles the release from prison of wrongly convicted inmates who are now making up for lost time.
Finally, the other National Proxy, Benetton, could well surge into a Challenge Cup Final and delight the 130,000 Italians living in London given that the final is being played in Tottenham’s White Hart Lane Stadium.
How I love the European Cup competition, I know I am biased but this tournament moves, frustrates, elevates and glorifies all that is best about club rugby. Even if for me the Quarter Finals have always held an irresistible allure, Semi Final day cannot come soon enough.
