How Eddie Jones has England flying
The mind games have broken the bounds of the Six Nations Championship and crossed the equator to New Zealand. Impressive stats accompany England to Dublin. But perhaps the truest measure of the transformation under Eddie Jones was the sheer exuberance of some of their play in the 61-21 mashing of Scotland.
Of all the prizes at stake in Dublin on Saturday (Sunday NZ time), a world-record 19th consecutive test win is the least substantial – the most transitory.
A nice landmark to own, and a wonderful achievement, but one floating in the space between World Cups. England’s sequence started with a hollow consolation hammering of Uruguay after a mortifying early exit from their own World Cup. Assuming Ireland go along with the script, No 19 will be reached two years out from the next global tournament, in Japan, where Jones’ side seek parity with the truly great team of 2003.
There is nothing in the current record-equalling run to justify disparagement: not even the absence of New Zealand on the list of victims. It is a reward for hard work, superb coaching and a willingness to change.
A second successive Grand Slam would be an even stronger endorsement of Jones’ work, which ranges from the physical (greater fitness) to the tactical (improved game management) to the psychological, which is arguably the most fascinating of his reforms. Jones had been warned that successful England players were inclined to relax on their laurels.
Stuart Lancaster, who started this 18-game run, was the first to diagnose the flaw, especially among overnight sensations who burst to prominence in some sauntering Twickenham win and then waited for the fame to roll in.
Successive generations had been caught between paranoia about being thought arrogant and the knowledge that English rugby’s only calling card was bullying power and relentless setpiece domination. There was no real manifesto. Lancaster identified it as a problem of ‘‘identity’’ or ‘‘culture’’.
Jones knew he had a conquering monster on his hands, if only he could find the right way to control it. There was a clue to this conflict in Jones’ comments this week. ‘‘To me the English are quite reserved and they actually struggle quite a bit with success,’’ he said. ‘‘I know the perception from the Celts is that it’s the opposite – they think the English are arrogant. As an Australian I think the English are very polite and reserved. And they struggle to carry that success around.’’
At no stage since Sir Clive Woodward and Brian Ashton (the backs coach) were in charge could England consistently be called entertainers or free spirits, in the sense that we witnessed those urges against Scotland at Twickenham. Chucking the ball around is not the issue. The point is more that England’s potential has so often seemed locked away inside, smothered by inhibition and regimentation. The world knows this is a tender spot, which is why Steve Hansen, the New Zealand coach, praised them for playing the ‘‘sort of rugby people want to see’’, as if the All Blacks are the game’s official exam board.
In the Six Nations titleretaining win against Scotland we saw Jonathan Joseph and Anthony Watson attack with a rapier precision that showed the way to a higher level of rugby.
They sliced through Scotland with devastating speed of thought and deed, jinking, side-stepping and supporting each other’s angles to befuddle defenders.
In the startled responses of England’s followers you could sense a
higher level of pleasure, as if all the athleticism of the professional era had found a higher purpose than mere ‘‘big hits’’. Owen Farrell has progressed from collision specialist and deadly kicker to defence-unlocker and passspinner.
Some doubted whether he could ever make such a leap. But now he is the timing mechanism in midfield: a much better and more dangerous player.
So much of watching top-level rugby now is about observing
smash-ups, and wincing and admiring in equal measure. During the Wales-ireland game last weekend, the thought occurred that the human body was really not meant to play rugby, the way it is currently played. Of all the Six Nations teams, England have the power and depth of talent to cope with the inevitable attrition rate.
The more tantalising question was whether Jones could fuse traditional English strengths with the more instinctive Australian qualities he knows so well from his homeland. To watch Joseph against Scotland raised the hope that pure game-changing talent will thrive in the buildup to Japan.
Jones headed out to study Premiership club rugby and found an essentially attritional spectacle, a world of physical subjugation played out in wintry conditions. There were spots of dazzle in there too, and lots of drama, but nobody could have expected England’s first overseas coach to start with a romantic outlook. Nor will idealism play much of a part in Dublin. England will not be counting Joseph’s sidesteps, only the scoreboard hits. But a whole new spectacle could be developing: a chance for self-expression.