SCHMIDT & JONES
There’s a clash of coaching cultures in the offing when straight -talking Kiwi Joe Schmidt takes on mouthy Aussie rival Eddie Jones in a potential Grand Slam decider in Dubblin on March 18
EDDIE JONES is treading a razor’s edge. He wants England to be mean, and mean winners are remembered simply as winners. Think of their 2003 World Cup-winning side. They had their charmless moments, but they succeeded when it mattered.
Up to this point, so have the England of Eddie Jones. But at their first significant set-back, when the winning run concludes, the nastiness Jones has been content to foster will have to be accounted for. Then, the decision to joke about Dylan Hartley’s horrendous disciplinary record, as Jones did at the Six Nations launch, will look not like pragmatism but the indulgence of a player whose talent cannot match the levels of his temper.
Jones and Joe Schmidt are chasing the same target, whether they admit it or not: a Grand Slam. And the wish of the fans of both countries – and many beyond them – is that the last day of the Six Nations will double as a play-off for that honour when the teams meet in Dublin.
One shared goal, then – but they pursue it through different routes.
Jones seems to revel in his larrikin reputation, the Australian wise-guy. It is a stereotype as tiresome as the gas Irishman but, so far, he has looked delighted to be viewed as a straight-talking doer.
He talked about harnessing Ireland’s hatred of England before the teams played in the Six Nations last year. It worked as England won.
Afterwards, though, he didn’t want to play. Whereas before the match it was okay for him to tastelessly suggest Johnny Sexton’s parents must be worried after the battering he took against France, after England’s win against Twickenham he was insolent, clearly stung by the criticism he faced.
His days as a coach at the elite level of Test rugby looked over until Japan’s performances at the last World Cup and, most obviously, their magnificent win against South Africa, made him relevant again.
At the press conference unveiling him as England coach, he was asked about the development routes through which younger players might emerge. ‘I’m a national team coach. I don’t discuss academies,’ he replied.
Given England’s resources, he can afford to be brutal in this regard, in a way Schmidt never could. But Jones looks like he enjoys being the abrupt, win-at-all costs character who succeeds no matter what.
His record disputes that but, with England, his numbers brook no argument. They have won all 13 matches played under him, a fantastic record, and it is worth recalling the way they played in last year’s championship.
There was little daring about them, not much in the way of risk-taking. They did what they needed to; Jones wanted wins and he understood that early success would not only protect him but it would also allow him space to shape his team as he wished.
That is why his defence of Hartley is odd. The Northampton hooker has such an awful record that Jones could have ditched him, even without the authority bequeathed by his marvellous management record in 2016.
But by persisting with a player who is nowhere near the best hooker in England – that is Jamie George at Saracens – he is obviously making a statement: his team are mean, and their leaders will set the example.
‘The reality of elite sport now is that players come through academies and are told what to do every day,’ he said on the subject of leadership this week.
‘You have to find ways of overcoming it otherwise you end up with teams that cannot make decisions. They need to stand on their own two feet.’
The risk is that Hartley will be sitting with his two feet out in front of him some time this spring, after the latest calamitous loss of self-control, but Jones is happy to keep taking risks on him.
When he coached his native Australia, he brought them to the World Cup final in 2003, but lost eight of his last nine matches in charge of them before inevitably departing in 2005.
A persistent criticism of him then was the prescriptive way his teams played, as if every phase of play had been anticipated on a chalkboard beforehand. England have shown signs of that, too, but the difference now is that Jones has a world-class pack of forwards to impose his will. The charge of over-drilling his players is one that Schmidt would be familiar with. The expansive style that did for New Zealand and Australia in the autumn provided fresh tributes to his coaching greatness, already established during his time at Leinster.
But, this time last year, Ireland did play a much narrower game, prompting Jones to talk about having to win the Aussie Rules aerial game against Ireland at Twickenham. They ended up winning the match with some ease, but as England have gone on to thrive, so have Ireland.
There wasn’t much dividing the teams a year ago, and there is less now.
The hope, frankly, is that both sides are four wins from four by the time March 18 comes around. Imagine the mouthing of Jones then.
SCHMIDT, though cooler in public, is not inclined to let people away with much when they comment on his team or their style. He rebutted the Aussie Rules comment, for instance, while the aftermath of that match was dominated by Mike Brown’s kick to the head of Conor Murray when the England full back was booting the ball.
There were no accusations made by Ireland – Schmidt said he believed the kick was unintentional – but his calls for World Rugby to review the rules in this area became headlines.
Jones, meanwhile, sulked, on account of the coverage of his Sexton jibe. ‘From this press conference onwards, I’m putting a media ban on myself,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to do any scaremongering or do anything that offends the media or people’s parents.’
It was a preposterous pose to take, and it didn’t last long.
It showed that underneath the tough exterior, there is a man sensitive to how he is perceived. Schmidt shares that characteristic, but it is one of the rare points of convergence in analysing these two men.
The only other common points are the pressure they feel in charge of teams fancied for the tournament – and the fierce desire to make the talk of success real.