Most open Rugby World Cup yet
The ninth staging of the Rugby World Cup, and the sixth in the professional era, is the first to take the sport away from its traditional base and into a new frontier.
And so, the Rugby World Cup is upon us. A time of monsters, mauls, madness, mayhem and mystery. A time for heroes, when the mettle of men is tested, when cool heads are needed to rule hot, reckless hearts and battered bodies. It is the best of times and it can be the worst.
Of the five World Cups I watched live or worked on, 2003 was certainly the worst, but perhaps Springbok rugby needed to hit that nadir before it climbed to the glory of 2007, which was the best of times.
All of the World Cups had a personality and character, and each brings back strong memories. In 1999, I bought a package that included flights and tickets for the two semifinals, playoff and final.
Stephen Larkham’s extraordinary and unexpected drop goal in extra time was a mixture of luck and timing. It was the first drop goal he scored after he had injured his kicking leg. The Springboks, strong and highly regarded, lost the tightest of games to a 48m drop goal by a man who did not kick. Such is rugby, as the All Blacks found out the next day.
Touts were selling tickets at below face value outside Twickenham. France would fall to the All Blacks, but, the French being the French, they did not. Before the game, an All Black fan waved a banner that read: “Blackwash ahead.”
A man sitting behind me had taken a £1,000 bet with his mate that France would win. He danced a jig in the stands. Afterwards, the All Black fan with the banner walked slowly down the stairs towards a stadium bar. He had changed his banner to read: “Bugger”. The cheers and laughter raised the roof, and he was bought consolation beers.
Before the Boks left for 2003, a function to mark their departure saw a bus drive through a fake brick wall. SA’s campaign started off as an accident and rolled along as a wreck. The management were paranoid and anxious, the players confused and yet gave as much as they could.
It was not a happy tour. We spent the last two weeks staying in the England hotel in Manly in Sydney, where the Boks had stayed earlier in the tournament. Martin Johnson queued for his eggs with the rest of the guests. The Boks ate in a separate room. The difference was stark.
The 2007 tournament felt different. The Springboks arrived believing they were going to win. In their last team talk before they left for France, the Boks were told that they would act, train and play with that top of mind.
They had the luck to spend most of the eight weeks in Paris and were settled. They were relaxed with the media, open and entertaining. Gurthro Steenkamp bought me a beer at the Bok hotel in Lens after the Tonga scare.
Then came another scare when Tonga initiated a citing against Frans Steyn for “biting” Tonga winger Joseph Vaka. There was no evidence, the witness contradicted himself and the charge was dismissed.
Bok management let slip that the Tongan management had called them late on Monday night to apologise for the citing, saying they had been forced to lay the charge, but they would not say by whom. Sinister and telling. The Boks were a team feared in France.
I have watched the 2007 World Cup final a few times this week. It was an old-fashioned smash-up. Some of those tackles would have seen cards. SA were direct and brutal, unapologetically ferocious. World Cups change how teams play. Defence wins World Cups.
The 2011 event was a wonderful time that ended too soon. Bryce Lawrence was awful and the Boks did not adapt to him, taking the uncertainty out of the referee’s hands.
In 1995 I was six months into a 22-year stay at The Star and only watched the Ireland-Wales group match live. I watched the semifinal and final at the Pirates Sports Club in Greenside then.
I’ll be down there again on Saturday morning to catch the Springboks against New Zealand. The Rugby World Cup is upon us.
What a time to be alive.