Breathless as Munster weather the storms

Saracens 16 Munster 18:THIS ALWAYS had the potential to be a proverbial banana skin, and as the thunder roared ominously above the Ricoh Arena at half-time and then the players began slipping and spilling the pill, the prospect grew ever more real right up until the last play of a drama filled semi-final.

'Twas a funny old game, and as with so many, it's all about perceptions. Rather laughably it seemed, almost the first question directed at Alan Gaffney afterwards was whether the last decision could have gone Saracens' way when Richard Hill was penalised for not releasing as opposed to being prevented from doing so, and technically it perhaps could have.

Nonetheless, given all manner of decisions and inconsistencies (be it knock-ons at the base, blocking with impunity by Saracens, varying application of the advantage law for knock-ons) had gone against Munster up till then, it would have been a cruel ending.

A marvellous first half, at the end of which Munster had contrived to lead 15-7, gave way to a taut, error-strewn, compelling second period in which Nigel Owens's penalty count went 8-3 to the home side. And two of those three penalties were the consequence of yellow-card offences - one courtesy of a touchjudge.

Heroes abounded, as ever, from one to 15. Indeed, Marcus Horan can take the grandest of bows, having had to survive - apart from 10 farcical minutes of uncontested scrums - in the face of first Cobus Visagie and then Cencus Johnston; giving over two stone to the first and then, for light relief, over four stone to the second.

He had it tough, it's true, in some scrums but he was still standing at the end and his workrate seemed undiminished.

John Hayes and Paul O'Connell were immense and, as usual, Alan Quinlan was a persistent thorn in opposition sides and came up with his customary high quotient of big plays, including a priceless try.

There were some big drives from the ever-dangerous David Wallace, and bravery personified by the halves, Tomás O'Leary and Ronan O'Gara, though O'Leary's overcooked box kicks and O'Gara's inability to find touch or clear the opposition wingers contributed to Munster's territorial deficit.

The abandon with which Rua Tipoki and Lifeimi Mafi enter into these Heineken Cup occasions has to be admired - Tipoki had a huge game - and this is invariably matched by Doug Howlett, who looked Munster's most menacing runner.

That said, the 25-year-old Fijian flyer opposite him, Kameli Ratuvou, sent a shiver of apprehension through Munster ranks, players as well as supporters, every time he touched the ball.

As feared and expected, Saracens threw their bodies into the collisions with just as much intensity as they had shown against the Ospreys in their quarter-final, and they were given every encouragement by virtually Ratuvou's first involvement.

Fortunate not be reduced to 14 men after Kris Chesney unleashed a flurry of punches on Donncha O'Callaghan, Saracens matched Munster toe to toe for physicality and daring in a wild start. There seemed little danger when Quinlan missed the counter-attacking Richard Haughton deep in the Saracens 22, but from the recycle Glen Jackson grubbered delightfully up the blindside touchline for Ratuvou to gather.

Saracens' all-action orchestrator supreme Neil de Kock moved the ball on to Adam Powell, and though he was nailed by Howlett short of the line, Ratuvou picked up and dived over. Seven points to Saracens. Yikes.

This was going to be a long 80 minutes.

Munster should have responded in kind pretty swiftly after Mafi, Denis Leamy, Jerry Flannery, Wallace and O'Connell made yards in turn, but Ian Dowling overran his line and Tipoki shovelled the try-scoring pass forward to leave them with the mere consolation of an O'Gara three-pointer.

So it ebbed and flowed, a couple of big hits by Howlett on Ratuvou and Jackson helping to keep Saracens out before Tipoki cut back off O'Gara's pass with clever footwork and strong leg-pumping, then picking and driving on after Horan had done so. But Owens wrongly adjudged O'Leary to have knocked the ball forward.

Munster kept knocking though. O'Leary ran diagonally infield from off-the-top ball by O'Connell at the tail and fed Tipoki, and off the recycle all the men in black drifted off O'Gara for the outhalf to show the ball and straighten through.

His conversion was ruled out, controversially, by the TMO - in part because the posts were relatively short - and in the endgame thoughts of that decision flickered back.

Even better followed when Munster withstood a fearful assault, huge hits by Denis Hurley and O'Leary on Jackson and de Kock setting the tone. From what would have been a relieving penalty in most teams' eyes, O'Gara tapped and Leamy charged. The collective response was a telling commentary on Munster's extraordinary mentality. Howlett made the key incision off Dowling's half-break and offload, and from the recycle Quinlan picked and sauntered through from 25 metres for a stunning 15-7 interval lead.

But the ominous thunder and an opening three-pointer by Jackson, cheaply conceded by O'Gara's kick-off into touch and Donncha O'Callaghan's handling in the ruck, were portents of the rollercoaster to come.

Munster went through 10 phases of close-in pick and go, but Saracens were up to that and a stream of five penalties against Munster saw Tipoki binned for not rolling away and Jackson narrowing the gap to two points.

Nick Lloyd, for another flurry of punches, and Johnston, for not rolling away (though there is a lot of him to roll away), suddenly gave Munster the numerical advantage.

Visagie returned at the official's behest from his exercise bike on the sidelines, but suddenly developed a limp within a minute as backrower Paul Gustard returned for what would have been uncontested scrums anyway.

Munster weren't clearing their lines as Jackson brought it back to two points. They had better luck when releasing Howlett and Quinlan in turn to run from their own 22. But Leamy lost his cool and, with a stamp, ensured one last Sarries salvo.

When Johnston burst through the middle of a ruck Munster were clinging on again before finally an Owens decision went their way for a relieved Leamy to kick to touch, leaving poor Hill and Gaffney in tears and Munster heaving a collective "Phew".

Breathtaking stuff and probably not good for the health of viewers.