Now we all believe in the cult of Eddie again
Bold selection calls pay off as Jones lives up to his billing
EDDIE JONES had one more battle to win. England had just beaten Australia 40-16. They had just equalled their best-ever Test victory over the Wallabies. They had just qualified for the World Cup semi-finals for the first time in 12 years. But with Jones, there is always one more fight to pick, one more samurai to kill.
He was asked whether he felt vindicated by England’s superb performance after making the shock decision to drop George Ford and he bristled. He smiled that smile he always smiles before he lunges. ‘I didn’t drop him, mate,’ he said. ‘I changed his role. Maybe you have got to stop reporting like you did 30 years ago. Rugby’s changed. Come and join us. Join us.’
Join him? Sure. Everybody is going to be doing that over the next week now. England will play New Zealand in Yokohama next Saturday in the country’s biggest match since 2007 and we will all be riding his coat-tails until then.
We believe again now, you s e e . T h a t ’s wha t yesterday did. It re- established the cult of personality around Jones that had faded in the summer of 2018 when England f el l to f i ve defeats in a row. The halo’s back. ‘There’s always a better samurai around the corner,’ he said, looking forward to the semi- final. But right now England would not swap him for anyone.
This was Jones’ type of victory. This was not a battle that was won on the plains, on open ground. This was a battle won in the trenches; a battle won in gullies and culverts; a battle won with heart as well as strength and a b i l i t y. ‘Defend with brutality,’ their coach had told them on the eve of the game and England obeyed him to the letter. In one stunning victory, Jones justified his hiring four years ago as the saviour of English rugby. He lived up to his billing as the man to r epair t he damage af t er t he d e s p e r a t e d i s a p p o i n t ment o f exiting the 2015 World Cup — our World Cup — at the pool stage. He vindicated the decision to let him restore order and confidence to an England team in shock. Jones had put himself on the line before this match. He had stood with his chest bared to the point of the bayonet. If England had lost this game, he would have been torn to pieces for dropping Ford, for tinkering too much, for controlling too much, for trusting too much in Owen Farrell. And then, probably, he would have been sacked. But that is why England hired Jones in the first place. Because he i s ruthless. Because he does not shirk difficult decisions even when they make him vulnerable. He b a c k s h i s judgment and he does not care wh a t others think . Others might fret about alienating big-name players by dropping them. Jones does not give it a second thought. He does what he needs to do to win.
Every one of his decisions was vindicated. Leaving Ford out of the starting XV was the big one and the way England stood up to t he juggernaut bursts of Samu Kerevi and the callow brilliance of Jordan Petaia justified that call even before Henry Slade, effectively Ford’s replacement, burst forward i n the first half and played a beautifully instinctive kick into the path of Jonny May for England’s second try in two minutes.
Farrell, restored as the side’s p l a y ma k e r, w a s practically faultless. It was his brilliant flat pass to prop Kyle Sinckler seven minutes into the second half that sent him barrelling over the line and killed Australian hopes of a comeback after they had drawn to within a point of England.
That was the game’s crucial attacking move. The Australians do not like Sinckler because he taunts them and mocks them and his score seemed to break their hearts. Maybe that was why Jones seemed to take particular pleasure in it.
‘He is not short of athletic ability,’ he said of Sinckler’s burst for the line. ‘He was charging. He was like a runaway rhino.’
But this was not a game decided by England’s backs. Tom Curry was a deserved man of the match at flanker. This was a game won in defence. It was a game won in Jones’ mind. He knows World Cups t end not t o be won by open, expansive teams who embrace risk. He knew that Australia’s best chance of victory was overpowering England in midfield and so he nullified the threat.
When his opposite number, his old mate Michael Cheika, was asked whether he felt his own tactics of playing more open rugby had failed, he said that that was just the way Australia played. ‘ I’m not going to go to a kick-and-defend game,’ he said. ‘Call me naive.’
Sadly for Cheika, that is exactly what he will be called after he played straight into Jones’ hands.
Today, in theory, will be a day off for Jones. But Jones does not really do days off. His previous one was last Thursday and he spent it coaching a group of sixth formers at a school in the town of Beppu.
When he thought they were not working as hard as they should be, he started barking at them goodnaturedly. ‘You’re country boys,’ he said. ‘You should be fit. Rugby’s about running. You’ve got to run hard. Do you think you can do it?’
Later, he taught them tackling techniques. ‘Pull them towards you when you tackle them,’ he said. To make his point, he demonstrated it on one of the pupils, tipping him on to his back. Jones grinned. ‘Look at that,’ he said. ‘And I’m 60.’
Sixty years old and never better than he was last week. Never better than he was yesterday. Still not resting. Still hunting the next samurai.