Captain Cook, Friday, April 30

NOW it's the Big 'Un. There's virtually no chance of making it into the semis but if we can pull something  out of the hat against the Bulls tomorrow, this Super 14 competition can still rank as one of our proudest. We've already picked ourselves up off the deck with five wins in a row, and we can now look to sustaining the momentum in the Currie Cup later in the season. A win tomorrow would put the cap on it.

Look at it this way: a game between Natal and Northern Transvaal (to use the old terminology on which the tradition is built) is in itself a classic, like between England and Scotland. There they play that one match of the Six Nations for the Calcutta Cup, no matter what might be happening in the rest of the competition. It's the same between us and Northerns, though no trophy is involved. It's an epic.

It goes back a long way. There was that first Currie Cup final at Kingsmead back in 1956, when Northerns scrambled a late try in the closing minutes to win 9-8. There was that glorious final at Loftus in 1990 when Tony Watson foxed Theo van Rensburg for a split second, to run round him through impossibly narrow space and score a consummate try to give us victory, 18-12 (I think they named an overture after it).

It's instructive to recall the run-up to that match because there are some who say the Bulls are so cock-a-hoop at the top of this year's Super 14 log that to even think of mounting a serious challenge on their home ground is an impertinence.

But in 1990 it was much the same. Only a fortnight or so earlier in a different competition (remember the Lion Cup?) Northerns had given us a terrible drubbing.

Yet from the moment the Currie Cup final started – in fact even before – it was a different story. One of the Northerns players pulled a hammy as he ran out through the tunnel. Naas Botha slipped and fell on his guava as he attempted a penalty.

This was Natal's day. Craig Jamieson and his side were rampant, unstoppable. When Watson scored, three Omies stood up, courteously shook hands with our group, congratulated us and gathered their belongings to go.

"But there's still ten minutes to play."

"Nee," they said. "Dis verby."

They were what are known at Loftus as "kenners". Twenty minutes into tomorrow's match, the kenners will have a shrewd idea of what's going to happen. The rest of us will, I trust, be glued right until the final whistle.

Last Saturday was again encouraging. Thumping tackles. Serious running. And what great driving play by the loose forwards. If we can keep this up, and if we can rid ourselves of that last vestige of the lemming-urge to kick away possession – that's what gave Auckland their try – we can take on anyone.

And if we can really click – for the first time this season – we can run rings round them. Rugby is a game played with an awkwardly bouncing oval ball. Nothing's impossible.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends …