England versus Australia in rugby will always evoke great
memories for me, since losing the ’91 World Cup, England have put the Aussies
out three tournaments running including the 2003 final, in Australia, with that
drop goal by Jonny Wilkinson.
England still appears to be in a transitional stage. After a
disappointing World Cup last year many new faces are being introduced by Stuart
Lancaster, with the emphasis on the changing mindset leading into the 2015
tournament more than the short term. Why this match is quite so important will
become quite apparent on December third, when the draw for the World Cup finals
will be made. To try to explain the convoluted process of ranking points
allocations, would need several maths lessons and quite an increase in column
inches, but the basics are that the top four sides in the world will be kept
apart in the pool stages. As it stands New Zealand, South Africa and Australia
occupy three of those slots but the fourth was very much in the balance with
France, England and Wales the three in contention.
So with this knowledge in hand it was with much excitement
that I took my seat up in the gods in the East stand at RFU HQ with my lucky
English rugby jersey. My first autumn international, I was interested to see
how the atmosphere differed from that of my more regular Six Nations outings.
Now one thing is for sure, the Aussies like a bit of banter,
especially after a sneaky pint or two, so to my delight we were sat in the
vicinity of a couple of antipodeans. My old uni’ mate nicknamed these two chaps
Skippy (with the comedy Kangaroo hat) and Bush tucker Bob - due to the big ears
and bigger belly of the respective characters. Perhaps the best thing rugby has
over football is the ‘friendly’ banter, and after a few colourful interchanges
about the respective coaches, Stuart Lancaster and Destroyer (Robbie) Deans as
the head coach was christened), we settled into the comfy plastic seats along
with 82,000 others to fully expecting to enjoy a third straight English win
against the men from down under. The teams came out to fanfare, fireworks and
much ceremony, perhaps due to the fact that they needed a distraction from the
hidious new Regal Purple monstrosity of a kit.
As the game progressed it was clear that the usual “pom
bashing” was a distant second to the abuse that Deans was receiving, not a
popular figure. Deans the destroyer of Aussie “football” presiding over a
battle weary side, much maligned by all and sundry, and shorn of many of its
top players through injury, fatigue and suspension. It was quite clear however
that this counted for nothing as the Aussies were murdering us at the
breakdown, and even in the scrum which surprised most of section E36.
Listening in on my handy little ref radio my hackles were
instantly raised by the French referee constantly penalising the “pinks” which
only added to the indignation to the fact that England were not wearing white.
The Aussies dislike of all things Gallic soon became softer as Mr Poite became
an unofficial Aussie. The noise from the home fans referring to the referee as
a rather uncharitable gentleman with questionable lineage, boomed long and load
from much of the crowd around us as we were constantly penalised.
The first half however was promising, Toby Flood kicked his
goals and we looked half decent in defence until a hole twice the size of the
one that sunk the Titanic appeared and Nick Cummins waltzed over. The crowd
roared, forward pass surely, but the English voices were dulled and Australia
led. Right on half time with the rush to the bars well and truly on, Manu
Tualigi bounced over the line in possibly the most sympathetic of video ref
decisions in some time, (perhaps evening out Cummins’ try). A collective
exhale, a massive roar. When a stadium that holds 81,361 people screams and
cheers, it shakes, the floor vibrates, drinks are spilt and the hair on the
back of your neck sends goosepimples to your very core.
Sadly that was the last time we were able to celebrate a
score, of any description, as missed passes, clumsy moves, poor decisions and a
ridiculous amount of turnover ball allowed the Aussies to clear their lines
time and time again. Aussie Michael Hooper seemed to be tackling anything and
everything, turning over the ball as though it was the World Cup Final itself.
In seasons passed the Rob Andrew’s, Jonny Wilkinson’s etc would have popped
over our second half penalty chances instead of kicking for touch and
attacking. Percentages over flair, and even in defeat this naive bravado made
it a thrilling end instead of a stagnating kick-fest, but with an Aussie side
quite clearly on a different plane to the one spanked by the French, perhaps
the duller option would have brought a much needed win. A change of mindset was
called for prior to this match and perhaps this was it, just without the
cohesiveness required. When the umpteenth rendition of Swing Low boomed out, it
was more of a prayer, a murmour of hope rather than a call to arms and the
crowd knew the Aussies weren’t going to allow us the all important score that
hard graft in the last 15 minutes perhaps deserved. Statistics are hard to
disprove and with only 6 wins from 17 autumn internationals, Lancaster has a
big job to do. The inexperienced side needs to learn and learn fast with the
Springboks and New Zealand waiting in the wings. If these lads can learn to
deal with the pressure as the 2003 side did, maintaining their skill set under
pressure there is still hope for the future. It was just a shame that we lacked
a little guile, a little more organisation in some of the set moves that
stifled our wingers instead of feeding them.
Spending over an hour waiting for the trains next to a group
of celebrating green and golds rubbed just salt into the wounds. Having been
told that England just lost to the worst ever Aussie team may be a bit on the
extreme but it cuts nonetheless. Ah Pom Bashing at its best, relentless, and I
have to say I puffed out my chest with my 2003 World Cup badge as far as I
could, remember this? Futile and childish, but I felt better and it kept the
vociferous celebrations to a hardly bearable rumble.
And let’s be fair, it could have been worse, we should have
won, we had enough chances, but we could be supporting the Welsh who were
downright awful in every department!
No comments:
Post a Comment