Moments when a 24-carat superstar bursts on the scene are few and far between, but always something to cherish. And we rugby fans have had two in the past few weeks. First came the dazzling performance by Sacha Feinberg-Mngomezulu, the Springbok No 10 who tore apart a powerful Argentina side in Durban in September, scoring a record 37 points with three tries, eight conversions and two penalties. With his effortless running and velvet touches all over the field, he suddenly gives the traditional raw power of the Boks an explosive new dimension. He is compellingly watchable, only 23, and will soon be as much of a benchmark of rugby excellence as the French scrum-half Antoine Dupont.
Closer to home was an extraordinary display by a north London teenager on his first start for Saracens in the Gallagher Prem at the weekend. Noah Caluori, 19, has been talked about for years by parents on the touchline following some blinding performances as a Mill Hill schoolboy. (The standard of top schoolboy rugby seems terrifyingly high.) Now he has shredded Sale, one of the most formidable Prem clubs. Caluori scored five tries and was almost balletic in the air, soaring high to reach balls no one else could get near, then gliding across the ground, weaving and dancing past all-comers. He’s 6ft 5in and still has some way to fill out. God knows what he’ll be like then. It was rugby from dreamland.
Caluori is
6ft 5in and still has some way to fill out. God knows what he’ll be like then. It was rugby from dreamland
Caluori has been called up to the England training squad, though whether he’ll play in the coming internationals, starting with Australia on 1 November, is questionable. I hope he does. If you’re good enough, you’re old enough. And with men like Caluori and Feinberg-Mngomezulu, international rugby union has rarely been in such a wonderful place.
It has always been possible to distinguish between high table at All Souls and the Maccabi Tel Aviv ultras on the lookout for a punch-up. They’re not a bunch to trifle with and never averse to a fight. But the British state’s decision to admit that it can’t keep safe some overseas football fans has got to be among the most disgraceful episodes of recent years. It’s not often you can say you feel ashamed of your country, but this is one of those times.
Maccabi won’t now be seeking any tickets for their fans at next month’s fixture against Aston Villa because Birmingham police have already said that they couldn’t protect them from danger. But over the years police have escorted away fans through what are basically war zones – Glasgow, Birmingham, Manchester – and kept them safe. Well, safeish.
It’s hard not to see some underlying anti-Semitism here, especially with the toxic bigotry of the appalling ‘independent’ Birmingham MP Ayoub Khan, sounding off about Israelis and disgracefully being given lots of time by broadcasters to spout his poison.
Unless you’re a fan, who isn’t entertained by the farce at Nottingham Forest and the larger-than-life characters involved (in more ways than one)? Here’s gruff, surly, straight-to-the-point Ange Postecoglou giving his weekly ten-minute lectures on his supreme fitness for the job. And there’s the owner who looks like the spoiled son of a taverna-owning Greek family whose mother has cooked him too much moussaka.
Who’s to blame? The owner surely for falling out with Nuno Espirito Santo, though even he is hitting the buffers at West Ham. How long before fans there start baying for his blood? It’s not long since Graham Potter was treated atrociously by the Hammers, though thankfully he’s been given a new lease of life and a chance to flex his excellent Swedish managing that country’s national team.
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