FOOTBALL

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 19786, 9 March 1927, Page 4

FOOTBALL

ENGLAND’S WIN THE WELSH UNLUCKY. Welsh rugger enthusiasts were very hopeful that this season they would succeed in doing what hitherto Scotland alone of United Kingdom international sides has done, and defeat England on the hallowed soil of Twickenham (writes the “Chronicle’s” special correspondnt from London on January 20). These high hopes were based on a formidable Welsh side that embodied the best elements of Wales’ rugger renaissance, but centred on the handsome boyish face and slim elusive figure of their new stand-off half, young Windsor Lewis. There was a record crowd at Twickenham, which probably represented £14,000 into the coffers of the English Rugby Union, and at least 25,000 Welshmen travelled up from Mr Lloyd George’s spiritual home to see the red jerseys win, or, like the Comishmen of old, to know the reason why Wales did not win. They were defeated by eleven points to nine— a. converted goal, a drop goal, and a penalty goal, to one penalty goal and two tries—and I do not think the loss of one of their hefty forwards early in the game really made much difference.

Shorter the Better? A® a matter of fact, the Welsh forwards played better, and got the ball more often, when they were a man short. It was a very exciting and fast game, with some brilliant streaks of sheer artistry, but there was a good deal of rather scrambling play, and the general impression of the match was that it fell below a consistent standard of high international form. Wakefield’s damaged knee kept him out of the scrum, and his place was taken by Conway, an inspired scrum leader and a finished artist, who, had he but the physique and weight of a “Wakers”, would stand forth as the finest forward of all time. The English side was a piebald of veterans, like Corbett and Locke at centre three-quart-ers, staunch, cool and skilful players no longer quite at the top of their elan; and raw novices like Sellar, the young middy just promoted lieutenant, at fullback, H. C. Laird, an exceptionally sturdy public-school boy, at stand-off half, and Stark, another youngster from the public-schools, as a forward.

Veterans To The Fore. As it turned out, though the youngsters on the English side performed quite well, and in the case of Stark even brilliantly, it was England’s veterans of the sere and yellow rugger leaf who were compellcrs of victory." The English pack played a great game. In the scrum they got as much of the ball as their far heavier Welsh vis-a-vis, a number of whom are fourteen-stone policemen, and in the loose they were definitely masters of the situation. At half-back, that crucial key-posi-tion that means so much in rugger, Wales had a decided advantage. Worton played, as usual, like a rock of Gibraltar, though perhaps not quite so slow. The way he went down to it in defence, and his peerless tackling of the man, were worthy of the British Army. But he had not quite the finesse of Powell, his Welsh duellist, and yonng Windsor Lewis towered over Laird conspicuously. That young gentleman was a regular waggon-load of monkeys from start to finish, and, though Laird and Worton manfully tackled him whenever they could, it was the solid, watchful veterancy of England’s two centres that kept Mr Windsor Lewis from Annexing a triumphant Twickenham scalp even in his ’teens. What we shall do with him when he grows up, and adds experience to the inspiration of genius, is a problem for the English selection committee. The two "Welsh centres were completely outmatched by Corbett and Locke, and their wing three-quarters, Andrews and Rowe Harding, were certainly no betteri than their opposites, Gibbs, the sprinting Harlequin, and Hamilton Wickes. Drama Of The Game. At full-back comparisons were rather odious. Tho Welshman, Male, only just falls short of being a great player, worthy to figure in the classic hierarchy of the Bancrofts. Young Sellar is as plucky as anything that ever came out of the wardroom of Nelson’s tradition, but he lacks judgment and experience, was frequently out of place, brought off one or two harum-scarum saves that must have made the English selection committee a little faint and dizzy, and sometimes kicked badly. But from a nervous wind-up beginning, he gradually settled down to a calmer mood, and after bringing off one glorious and valiant tackle that saved a certain try, braced himself like a seaman, and began to develop the temperament that will make him in time England ’s proved and assured full-back. As the match progressed, he was, like the young ladies at Mr Weller’s teaparty, a-swclling visibly with modest confidence.

The drama of the game is briefly told. England pressed from the kickoff, her forwards swarmed on the Welsh line, and the Welshmen showed signs of being rattled. Male miss-kicked for touch, and the ball fell into the sure hands of England’s captain in mid-field. Corbett made his mark, though a burly Welsh forward bowled him over rather savagely. Corbett’s revenge was to drop as neat a goal as anyone need want to see.

Then the red jerseys got busy. Windsor Lewis developed a sudden movement, following som e fumbling by the English defenders, that outflanked Hamilton-Wickes, and enabled Rojve Harding, with that greyhound stride of his, to race in for a try just at the corner. Male could not luck a goal, and the scores were equal. Then England forged ahead. First Stanbury kicked a penalty goal, the opportunity for which was righteously awarded by the referee for a flagrant default by one of the Welsh forwards in his own twenty-five. The Star Turn. Then Andrews scored a try for Wales, which was not converted, again as the result of the genius of Windsor

Lewis. Now came the thrill of the match—an individualistic try by Corbett, who ran in, swerving, selling the dummy, and handing-off a last desperate Welsh tackle, to score between the posts. It was a brilliaait effort, roused the crowd to fever-heat, and easily produced a final goal. The only scoring after that was a penalty goal awarded to Wales for off-side. The generalship of Corbett thereafter foiled the most frenzied efforts of the Welshmen to puil a Twickenham victory out of the very embers of th© fire. A noteworthy feature of the game is the fact that, for the first time on record, it was broadcast by the 828. C. This may prove an epoch-marking innovation in football. The broadcasting was done by a genial young Harlequin from a specially-constructed observation tower. At half-time he rejoiced several million listeners-in by a naive and perfectly audible aside: “And I now, what about a beer? It’s jolly [good beerl ”