Stuart Barnes on box kicking.

[Heathen]

Scrum halves are falling for curse of slow box-kicking

Stuart Barnes - The Times 6 Jan

Professionalism vis-à-vis the media isn’t a matter of saying nothing while trying to make it sound significant, wrapped in the clichéd jargon of the day, so on Friday it caught my attention when Diamond mentioned his scrum half Will Cliff, after Sale’s 48-10 win at home to Harlequins.

Cliff, the 31-year-old veteran, is not a man who has ever been a target for jargon. A solid technician and journeyman, Diamond’s description of him might just have been the media highlight of his career.

Cliff plays in the shadows of the World Cup-winning, budgie smuggler-wearing, blond bombshell, Faf de Klerk. The Springbok No 9 is undoubtedly at the heart of the revolution that Diamond is trying to build from the foundations of several South Africans in Sale. He is box office and — on his day — brilliant. He can pass, tackle, break and he will boss the biggest of packs, as he did so successfully at the World Cup.

But he does have a predilection for taking his time with his box-kicking. The wide base, the kicking foot’s heel dug into the ground, and then there’s the pre-kick. Slowly dribbling the ball backwards from the breakdown until the scrum half launches the kick.

De Klerk had an off day away to Bath at the end of last month, when Sale lost 16-14, but he is one of the best in the business — scrum half and box-kicker.

Nobody on the TV punditry panel on Friday night picked up on Diamond’s comments but he blatantly singled out the contribution of Cliff, the speed and accuracy of his service, the impetus he brought the side. Diamond duly praised De Klerk, who didn’t play on Friday, but singled out

Sale didn’t miss their little Springbok maestro because a largely unknown Englishman did what scrum halves once did without a second thought: moved the ball from the breakdown and maintained tempo. Had Sale played at such a lick against Bath, I have little doubt that they would have won.

As it was, the home crowd witnessed an exciting display of offensive rugby and the television cameras lingered long and lovingly on the entire Sale back line, with the exception of Cliff. It isn’t merely the man who has been forgotten but the benefits that a swift-passing No 9 brings to a team.

Diamond’s smiling assessment was a contrast with that of his Harlequins counterpart. Paul Gustard, the visiting director of rugby and former England defence coach, had every right to be unhappy at his side’s hapless performance. “For all our possession,” he said, “we weren’t able to manufacture a score.”

Perhaps Gustard should consider the malign influence of Danny Care on proceedings. There are two types of Care. Memorably, there is the cheeky, lightning-fast, instinctive Care, who has been blisteringly brilliant for England off the bench. Coming on for his country with less than half an hour to play, there is no time for the posing delays.

Playing from the start, Care positively luxuriates in the time he is given to drag the ball backwards, seemingly unaware that the back line outside him is watching the opposing defence reorganise. When Harlequins won the Premiership in 2012 they had the acute rugby brain of Nick Evans controlling the game’s pace from fly half. Now Care is in command and the trends of the day dictate the haste (or lack) of Harlequins attack.

Yes, Gustard was right to identify his team’s plentiful possession but it is disturbing that he cannot see — or state — what is a problem for not just Harlequins but much of the modern game. A few weeks ago, I touched on the mysterious case of the Greig Laidlaw eulogies; Scotland’s retired scrum half whose baleful dithering at the base was the exact opposite of what his middleweight team required.

Over the years, Ben Youngs has been a constant frustration in this column. The young sniping star who ripped into teams at the start of his career evolved into an enemy of quick ball unless it was the occasional pop-pass to a rampant England pack.

He has box-kicked his way backwards as an all-round scrum half. It would be lovely to think that Youngs will loosen up in the autumn of his career but such a volte-face would be against the overall professional pattern of the sport.

On Saturday, I had the pleasure of an afternoon in Gloucester. I watched Bath dominate a first half in which they led by two points after enjoying more than two-thirds of possession and territory. In Chris Cook, Bath have another scrum half happy to adopt the Faf pose and allow younger fans to divert attention to their iPhones before restarting the action with the inevitable box-kick.

Gloucester’s Willi Heinz doesn’t mind a box-kick either but he was a different scrum half on Saturday. He either booted the ball as far downfield and into touch as he could or he serviced a back line who demanded quick ball from their skipper. The loudest voice among them belonged to Danny Cipriani, who — apart from his exquisite handling — has a tactical understanding of rugby second to none. May other teams and their No 9s escape from the curse of strategy by numbers.

[Rossm]

Interesting read.

[wasps]

So are we saying that the modern game wants scrum halves to manage the game as much as fly halves? 
... Or at least the scrum half makes the decision as to whether or not the 10 gets to actually play?

Whereas, in the past, the main aim for the 9 was to get the ball out to the fly half as quickly as possible?



I assume the theory is that you have 2 play makers so the back row can't just focus on hitting the 10.
However, it seems reminiscent of issues with playing fly halves at 12 a few years ago.
There were plenty of arguments that at 12, the opposition blitz had closed the space so much that the centre had no time to make any decisions.

Maybe with such huge battering ram centres, the game has tried to move that 2nd play maker to scrum half.



We're probably just copying New Zealand and Australia