Classic Games - Saints 41 Wigan 6

I have a tendency to recall that Wigan won every game they played when I was growing up. To some extent that is true. It is well documented that they won eight consecutive Challenge Cup finals between 1988 and 1995. Saints were involved in two of those, humiliated 27-0 at the old Wembley in 1989 but pushing them to the very limit in a match that finished 13-8 two years later. As well as success at Wembley Wigan dominated the first division championship too. They bagged seven in a row between 1989-90 and the final season of winter rugby league in 1995-96.

Although that trophy haul demonstrates their dominance of the era immediately prior to Super League there were times when it didn’t go all their own way. When a bounce of the ball here, a refereeing decision there, could have brought the streak of league titles to a shuddering halt. In two consecutive seasons - 1992-93 and 1993-94 - Wigan won the title only by virtue of a superior points difference over the campaign. In the latter of those two seasons there were not one but two other sides involved in the tie-breaker. Both Warrington and Bradford Northern matched Wigan’s 46 points from 23 wins and seven losses in 30 outings.

It is to the first of those two seasons with photo-finish endings that we go to remember one of the great Saints performances in a derby, or indeed any other fixture. Wigan came to Knowsley Road on December 27 1992 with only one league defeat blotting their record. That came in what these days would be known as Round 2 when they lost 14-13 in a game notable for the fact that Martin Offiah kicked a rare drop-goal. Saints by contrast had lost three times, so needed a win in this one to prevent their local rivals opening up an eight-point advantage over them. That kind of deficit would have seemed insurmountable even with half of the season still to play.

The teams had met once already that season, a bruising Lancashire Cup final encounter at Knowsley Road in October. That game had been so tight that no tries were scored by either side. The result was still familiar even if the methods were not, Wigan winning 5-4 thanks to Frano Botica’s drop-goal. Botica was one of nine Wigan players from the starting line-up that day to start the festive league encounter. Phil Clarke had missed the cup final but returned here allowing Dean Bell to revert back to the centres in place of Joe Lydon. Andy Platt moved from prop to second row to make room for Neil Cowie as Billy McGinty dropped to the bench. Sam Panapa started on the wing in place of Jason Robinson who was only a substitute.

Saints returned the same number to their side. Phil Veivers was relegated to the bench as David Lyon came in at fullback, while Paul Loughlin’s return to the fold meant Aussie import Jarrod McCracken moved to the wing. With Anthony Sullivan out Alan Hunte switched wings. Jonathan Griffiths was also absent leaving Saints with an all-Kiwi halfback partnership of Tea Ropati and Shane Cooper. Chris Joynt moved to Cooper’s regular loose forward spot so George Mann partnered Sonny Nickle in the second row. Kevin Ward, - one of the chief protagonists of the story of the Good Friday meeting which ultimately decided the destiny of the title - was not available so Jon Neill and John Harrison started at prop.

Optimism did not often endure when it came to derby matches during Wigan’s glory days. You’d approach the game thinking that if every Saints player played to the best of his ability, if every risky offload stuck, and if two or three of Wigan’s key players had an off day we had a chance. The trouble was that this Wigan side had more keys than Elton John’s piano. If Offiah didn’t get you with his Spaceballs ‘are you nuts?’ speed then Shaun Edwards, Botica, Clarke, Bell, Steve Hampson or Platt - with all of their varied weapons and talents (yes Clarke had talents in those days) - would. They had internationals all over the field and a couple on the bench in McGinty and Robinson. So there was a sense of foreboding as early as the fourth minute when Offiah turned up on the right edge to put Botica over in the right hand corner. Botica was fairly automatic when it came to goal kicking so barely an eyebrow was raised when he slotted over the conversion from out wide to give Wigan a 6-0 advantage. It was the last time the scoreboard operators would need to bother with the Wigan side of the ledger that day.

Had Botica been wearing the red vee rather than Wigan’s blue and white hoops the final score line could have been uglier for the visitors. Saints missed a plethora of goal kicking opportunities, the first of which came on seven minutes and was spurned by Lyon. The responsibility would be handed back to Loughlin for the rest of the afternoon and although he was just as wayward at times he would get plenty of opportunities. The first of those arrived on 11 minutes. After building their way back into the game with a good spell of possession Saints broke through. Cooper found Hunte on the left hand touchline and the then 22-year-old squeezed in at the corner. Loughlin was unsuccessful with the extras but Saints were back in the game at 6-4.

It was at this point that one of Wigan’s biggest weapons (which works on at least a couple of levels) left proceedings. As Saints prepared to restart the game the frustrated figure of Offiah could be seen being led away for further examination on what seemed to be an injury of some sort. For all his brilliance Offiah was not the most robust of rugby league players. His ability to evade being tackled served him as well for his own protection as it did for rattling multiples of four on to the scoreboard. He was replaced by Robinson. History dictates that Robinson is just about as good a replacement winger as it was possible to introduce. Yet at the time Robinson was still a fairly raw 18-year-old playing in his first season in the first division after arriving at Wigan from Hunslet. He would have much, much better days than this.

Saints were beginning to establish their supremacy on the game. Just before the 20 minute mark one of rugby league’s long forgotten relics created an opportunity to extend the lead. This was a time when it was perfectly legal to tap the ball to yourself at the play-the-ball. Sonny Nickle did exactly that to go over by the posts after a dazzling move earlier in the set involving Mann, Cooper and Joynt. Loughlin was more accurate with the extras this time and Saints were 10-6 up.

It was only two minutes later that the scoreboard and as a consequence the game itself started to get away from Wigan. Lyon stormed through on a sizzling break and when the ball eventually found its way to Hunte he finished it superbly. In doing so he absorbed a hit from Clarke that was later than a government lockdown. The kind of challenge that were Blackrod’s finest to witness it now in his role as a Sky Sports summariser he would no doubt emit one of his unloved piercing shrieks before calling for the culprit to be sent for an early wash. The game was different then, however, not least because games were not covered by live TV very often and therefore not subject to the musings of a trolling controversy hound. The worst that happened to Clarke was that Loughlin tagged on two more points and Saints led 16-6.

Joynt was next to cross for Saints as proceedings took us ever closer to Dreamland. Bernard Dwyer was the provider and when Loughlin was on target with the conversion and a penalty just before half-time Saints headed to the break with a barely credible 24-6 lead. Yet still we wondered. Even as Ropati was scything through the Wigan defence to set up the position for Dwyer to put Joynt over you were not a proper, seasoned Saints fan if you were not thinking about how much better Wigan were going to be in the second half. How they would romp back into the game and snatch it away, probably via some heinous act of skullduggery and shithousery.

Except they didn’t. To our absolute delight John Monie’s side were just as bad after the oranges. Monie would later remark that he didn’t have a good player on the field which was some statement. He had several good players and some greats. Yet they were made to look average by a Saints side for whom everything was working. There was one surreal moment when Gary Connolly was forced into a rash kick from dummy half on the last tackle. Connolly was to kicking what Priti Patel is to the oration of six-figure numbers, but his effort nevertheless pulled up inches short of the dead ball line forcing his future employers to have to run it back into the field of play. It was that sort of day.

Gus O’Donnell had been at Wigan for four years before switching to Saints earlier in the year. He was introduced at the start of the second half in place of Neill. This forced a bit of reshuffling, with Mann slotting back into his preferred prop role from the back row, Joynt moving into the spot vacated by Mann alongside Nickle and Cooper reverting to loose forward. That allowed O’Donnell to partner Ropati in the halves and within two minutes he had made his mark. His grubber bounced into the Wigan in-goal area where it was missed by Connolly but pounced upon by Lyon. Loughlin fluffed his attempt at two more points but at 28-6 those half-time doubts were diminishing.

If there was ever any doubt about who was going to win this game it evaporated three minutes later. McCracken embarked on a typically strong run, the type which regards self preservation low on the list of priorities, whereupon he was met with some of that Wigan skullduggery and shithousery. Kelvin Skerrett hit McCracken in the head with a shoulder, dropping the Kiwi centre to the floor like Boris Johnson dropping a pregnant mistress. Or the idea of herd immunity. There was no surprise in Skerrett’s actions. He had something of a reputation. I met him in a long forgotten St Helens drinking establishment once and we recalled the incident - and a subsequent one in which he jumped over a pile of bodies to get involved in a fight with some Featherstone players - with great amusement. He couldn’t explain his actions on either occasion and didn’t seem to feel the need to. It just was what it was. Skerretts gonna Skerrett.

His dismissal was the final nail in the Wigan coffin on the day. For a while after all they wanted to do was fight and spoil. Any thoughts of playing their way back into the game had drifted away. Within two minutes there was another confrontation, the upshot of which was that Nickle and Platt were ordered to sit down and cool off for 10 minutes by referee Robin Whitfield. Platt had played 185 times for Saints before moving to Wigan in 1988. He had shed tears on the Wembley turf in 1987 when two disallowed Mark Elia tries denied Saints victory and had all of Halifax (and probably Wigan) in rapture. I couldn’t hear what was said to Platt as he and Nickle trudged off for their enforced rest, but it was unlikely that many of the fans on that side of the ground were asking after his health.

Loughlin slotted another penalty five minutes later and Saints led 30-6. In many ways the decision to kick for goal there was indicative of how the game has changed, and how the power dynamic between these two great rivals has transformed. If the Saints of 2020 get back on the field they can expect nothing short of a social media shit storm should they decide to kick for goal from a penalty while leading Wigan at home by 22 points with only a quarter of the game left. It suggested that there was still a part of the Saints psyche that wouldn’t allow itself to believe that the game was won against Wigan until the final hooter sounded. Every point still seemed crucial. It was that sort of insecurity which probably led Mann into deliberately interfering with an attempted quick play-the-ball which meant that he also saw yellow shortly after. For a time it was 11 v 11 with Skerrett showering and all of Nickle, Mann and Platt in the sin-bin.

McCracken should have added to Saints lead but couldn’t chase down his own kick after an errant Wigan pass had gifted him an opportunity. He was probably still seeing fairies and stars after the hit from Skerrett. Loughlin hit the post with another attempt at goal before we saw the next points of the afternoon. When they came they were worth the wait. It was undoubtedly the aesthetic highlight of the game. Hunte was found in space on the left touchline where he broke and then attempted an audacious chip and chase. The bounce of the ball beat him but it was scooped up by Veivers, on as a 61st minute replacement for Ropati. The Australian fullback found the newly returned Nickle in support, and he trekked right across the width of the Knowsley Road pitch before strolling over in the right hand corner. Again the conversion failed but Wigan were now officially on the end of a hammering at 34-6.

When O’Donnell added a drop-goal to push it out to 35-6 even the most paranoid Saints fan could breath easily, the most optimistic Wigan fan already ordering his first pint at the Black Bull or the Bird I’th Hand. Yet Saints weren’t finished. Nickle was quite a sight in full flow back then. A more slight, speedier presence than the player who returned after a spell with Bradford Bulls. He used that speed to great effect to set up Saints’ final try of the night, hurtling through a gap and charging down the right hand touchline. He was eventually stopped, but some trademark ball skills from Cooper drew in several Wigan defenders and with a flick of the wrist Cooper found his compatriot Ropati who walked in untouched. Loughlin’s sixth goal of the day completed an eye-popping 41-6 win.

We know the rest of the story. Saints would only lose twice more in the league that campaign, at Widnes and Hull FC. Yet that 8-8 draw on Good Friday at Central Park - which saw Ward suffer the leg break which would end his career - also did for Saints title hopes. Wigan recovered sufficiently from their Knowsley Road towelling, albeit slowly. Nine days after their visit to St Helens Monie’s side lost 11-4 at home to Warrington. Further defeats in the run-in at Bradford and Castleford meant that the Easter meeting was effectively a winner takes all clash. Like a boxer defending his belt the draw was just about enough to see Wigan through to the fourth of those seven successive titles.

The tide would turn towards Saints as professionalism emerged. They would have their time with a new set of stars. Bobbie Goulding - formerly of Wigan - Paul Newlove, Scott Gibbs and a bright young thing named Keiron Cunningham joined the likes of Joynt and Hunte in Shaun McRae’s inaugural Super League champion side of 1996. Yet for many December 27 1992 is the date when the fear factor attached to facing Wigan started to subside.