Maybe you recall that this time four years ago much was made here of the Rugby World Cup. This was because England fans like me genuinely reckoned England could win the thing. England went into the tournament on the back of two great wins in the Southern Hemisphere against the might of Australia and New Zealand, and when the tournament began they were the top ranked side in the world. If England played as well as they were capable of, they would win in some style. Actually, they did not play quite that well, but they still won, by the skin of their teeth and a famous Jonny Wilkinson drop goal in the final minute of extra time.
This time, it was all completely different. The only Samizdata coverage of this event so far has been Johnathan Pearce’s piece about how the shirts worn by New Zealand and Scotland in their group match were impossible to distinguish (I felt just the same).
I for one make no apology for this. I think that the way to enjoy sport is to pay close attention when your team is winning, but otherwise to relax and treat it all as only the game that it is.
England arrived at this current tournament in a state bordering on shambles. They won their first game against the USA, a rugby union minnow, but scored no points at all in the last half hour of the game while the USA even managed a try. And in the next game England hit rock bottom, being utterly annihilated by South Africa by the crushing scoreline of 36-0. Meanwhile, the other Southern Hemisphere sides were storming through their early games, winning by cricket scores. Any thought that England might be able to make a serious defence of their title was, frankly, ridiculous. But England then played two further tough but winnable group games, against Samoa and Tonga, both rough and physical teams, both teams capable of ripping less than completely alert and committed defences to pieces with creative back play. England won both games. The manner of those victories, and the inevitable jelling and bonding that happened under what now looks like very astute leadership, meant that by the time England played their quarter final game against Australia, they were ready to make a real contest of it. The Australians must have told themselves not to underestimate England, but resisting that kind of mind-set is hard. England won a remarkable if rather ugly and scrappy victory, 12-10. Wilkinson, after four years of nearly continuous injury of one sort or another, who had missed that South Africa game because he was still, yet again, injured, was now well and truly back in business, and kicked all of England’s points.
France, meanwhile, following their own humiliation in the first game of the tournament, which they lost to Argentina, also had to bounce back strongly to make any progress. By the time they played Ireland they had pulled themselves together and they beat the under-performing Irish handsomely. Then, hours after that amazing England Australia game, they pulled off an even more extraordinary quarter final upset, beating the mighty New Zealand All Blacks.
What the hell do the All Blacks have to do to win one of these things? New Zealand were the red hot favourites, as I had told all my friends, but, as I had added, they always seem to find a way to lose somewhere along the line. The last time they won the World Cup was the first time in was held, in 1987.
My take on this New Zealand loss was that until they came up against France, and unlike France, they had not been seriously tested, by anybody. The team that came second in their preliminary group, Scotland, didn’t even try to beat New Zealand, preferring to rest their first team for their key game against Italy, allowing New Zealand to stroll past them much as New Zealand did against the other weaker teams in that group, like Italy. (That being the game with the indistinguishable shirts.) And then, with no serious matches behind them, New Zealand came up against a rejuvenated France, and couldn’t quite prevail. Caught up in a close finish, they looked like fishes out of water. Not being able to win at a canter, they proved unable to win at all. Their fly half had chances to win it towards the end with a drop goal in the Jonny Wilkinson manner, but by the time he tried this, the best chances had gone and his despairing kick in the final minutes, from way out, was well wide.
So it was that England played France last night at the Stade de France. Fans had to wait until 9 pm, local time, for the game to get under way, that being because people in Australia and New Zealand had to able to watch their teams play one another without having to get up too early. What they made of the semi-final that actually transpired I do not know.
England beat France in their 2003 semi final, but this time France were playing at home, and seemed far better prepared. England, on the other hand, this time seemed a far less formidable outfit, and flying on fumes.
Yet, England won again. They won much as they did against Australia. It was tense and ugly, and ferocious. Once again, the boot of Jonny Wilkinson was the difference, taking England from 8-9 down to a 14-9 win with a penalty kick and a drop goal in the last few minutes. Or then again, maybe the difference was that England scored the only try of the game, after about a minute and a half, when Lewsey got the luck of the bounce and leapt over the French full back to score in the corner, Wilkinson for once failing to convert.
My nerves already shredded by the ordeal of trying and failing to watch the England Australia game, I was grateful for a dinner invitation from Perry de Havilland which would spare me from having to pace about my kitchen like a caged kitten, trying to watch this game, and failing again. Having given my orders to my TV hard disc, I dined contentedly at Perry’s, only occasionally nipping upstairs to see what the score was. When I first checked, it was 6-5 to France. Half an hour later, into the second half, it was 9-8 to France, and I was getting seriously tense. If England were still within range towards the end they could win, and Perry and the rest of us did watch the final fifteen minutes, and we witnessed Wilkinson’s decisive kicks. We also watched ten minutes of crunching England tackling, including one miracle ankle tap by Joe Worsley on a French back who was about a yard away from scoring the try that would have finished it. Presumably England had been tackling like that for the entire game, because France scored no tries at all. That doesn’t often happen, and was the last thing anybody expected for this game. As I finish this posting, I am now watching the recording. All has gone well with that, and I will have a treasurable DVD of this remarkable contest for ever.
How is it that England are now doing so well at rugby? Last time they won as favourites. This time, they are in a position where they could win it once again, having been written off as hopeless after their earlier games. Well, I don’t really know, but I’ve been reading a very interesting book by the England coach the last time around, Clive Woodward, which sheds quite a lot of light on this question. I hope to be telling you about this book here, soon, preferably before the final next weekend. (I hope to, but: I promise nothing.)
I now anticipate that South Africa will win this tournament fairly comfortably. It is being said that Argentina could upset the South Africans today, much as they have already upset France and Ireland, but I don’t see that happening. I think that the South Africans, having themselves had one of those salutary frights in an earlier game (at the hands of the Fijians), will roast those beefy Argies by a big margin. And although England have improved a hell of a lot as this tournament has gone on, I don’t think they’ve improved enough to beat South Africa. But then again, I didn’t think England would beat Australia, or France.
