by Richie McCaw
Leading the Crusaders out for my 100th game of Super rugby, against the Stormers at Cape Town, 2010. Shame about the result.
By the time we get to Round 7 and the bye, we’ve won six out of seven, got the benefit of a swag of bonus points and are looking good for a home final.
Inevitably, the other team that is travelling really well and collecting even more bonus points is the Bulls.
A draw against the Canes in Wellington is okay, and we manage to cream the Cheetahs at home, but our trip away is an unmitigated disaster.
We lose all three, going down to the Force, who always seem to present problems for us in Perth, then get utterly hammered by the Stormers 14–42, when Stu Dickinson, never my favourite referee, whistles up his own storm. It’s my 100th game of Super rugby, so I’m up for it and even though we didn’t play that badly, we just get smothered.
Despite the loss, there are two uplifting moments in Cape Town. One was a present from Schalk Burger for my 100th game, a case of wine from his family’s vineyard. The present cements a friendship that developed through playing together for the Baabaas at the end of 2008, and epitomises one of the wonderful contradictions of rugby, that such fierce rivals—and there are none more ferocious than Schalk—can drop their guard off the field and be mates.
We stayed on a few days after the Stormers game before heading up to Pretoria, and the Force were staying in the same hotel. I took the opportunity to meet veteran Aussie lock, Nathan Sharpe, about Players’ Association business. The business chat took half an hour, then we sat and talked for another two. Really nice guy. I’d been playing against him for about eight years, but had never got past ‘G’day’.
The following week we go down narrowly and desperately after the hooter against the Bulls 35–40. That really hurts—we’re almost home, and succeed in charging down a Morne Steyn drop-kick, but the ball goes loose and, bugger me, they score from a marginal forward pass. When your luck’s out . . .
That loss really costs us, because a bonus point win against the Brumbies comes too late. We make the semis, but two South African teams, the Stormers and the Bulls, have taken the top spots and no prizes for guessing who we’ve drawn. I pack the boots and the mouthguards and board the plane for the trek back to South Africa, trying not to hear Yogi Berra chortling in my ear.
Loftus Versfeld is being readied for the Fifa Football World Cup, so we play at Orlando Stadium in Soweto, which is different, particularly when we get delayed in traffic. The saving grace is that the ref, Stu Dickinson, is even later. The atmosphere is different too, particularly when the crowd start practising their vuvuzelas. But nothing else changes, when for the third time in four years, we go down to the Bulls in a semi-final, this time 24–39. We get a sniff of it early in the second half, at 17–23, but Matfield and Fourie du Preez are immense. Du Preez takes the game away from us by reacting quickest to a screwed defensive scrum and scoots down the blind. A shame, not least because Owen Franks, now 22, has shown, particularly in the two Bulls games, that he can deal to the best of them at tighthead.
The Stormers thrash the Waratahs in the other semi, and the Bulls win the final narrowly at home.
I’m hoping that Super 14 form doesn’t equate to test triumph, because if it does, the All Blacks are in trouble.
While the Super 14 might have ended in what is becoming an all too familiar disappointment, the All Blacks come together really well, and in the June tests, renamed the Steinlager Series, we seem to be ready to kick on from Marseilles, rather than have to start again.
In May of 2009, Paddy O’Brien said there’d be no more rule changes before the RWC. But 2009 was such an appalling year for the game globally that even the northern hemisphere sides wanted changes to the interpretation of, you guessed it, the tackled ball rule. So that inkling that Ted & Smithy & Shag had last year that the rules or interpretations had to change has proven to be well founded.
This year, the tackler has to get out of the way and any potential snaffler has got to be on his feet supporting his own body weight to win the ball. The refs have license to be harsh on the tackler, who used to be able to lie there and passively obstruct, and also on the guys who were having a dig when they’re half on their feet and half not.
The other change is to the 10-metre exclusion zone around the kick retriever. The chasing team used to be able to put an umbrella defence around the catcher, forcing him to go forward, but now that zone extends in a line across the field, which gives the catcher a few more options.
That really changes the game back to one where it pays to have the ball in hand; it pays to play with the ball rather than without it. All of which helps us in the development of the game we want to play—and puts us a year ahead of the opposition.
These changes are seized upon delightedly by Ted & Shag & Smithy, who have clearly been putting the preparatory work in during the Super 14. To that end, they’ve decided to change roles again, with Ted going to attack and strategy overview, Smithy keeping defence and counter-attack and Shag moving back to the forwards.
The first test against Ireland at New Plymouth turns out to be a bit of a romp after their No. 8 Jamie Heaslip gets red-carded after 15 minutes, then Ronan O’Gara follows him with a yellow shortly after. By the time O’Gara comes back, we’ve put 38 points past their 13 men and the contest is over. Notwithstanding that, we’re intense and focused until the last quarter when we lose our shape—not helped by my gifting an intercept to Tommy Bowe. Israel Dagg and Sam Whitelock have notable debuts, and others like Kieran and Conrad and Jimmy have fine games, and Cory Jane once again looks like the complete package at right wing.
We make only one change a week later against Wales, which is supposed to be our last test at Carisbrook. After a quiet first 40, we thrash them 42–9. Part of that is due to Dan, who’s been subdued during the Super 14, taking on the line again—and breaking it, spectacularly. It helps that he’s got Jimmy playing so well inside him, and Conrad taking leadership outside him.
I’ve got Welsh fullback Lee Byrne in front of me as I size up the options against Wales.
By the following week in Hamilton, Wales are more defensive. Sometimes you get the feeling, particularly with northern hemisphere teams, that they’ve decided to go out there and keep it as close as they can, stay in the hunt, then see what happens. By our lights, that’s an impoverished sort of ambition, but it works in so far as they lose by 19 points instead of 33.
We seem to do better against teams that come to play. It’s strangely counter-intuitive that we have a better chance of slamming a team that genuinely believes it can beat us by playing footy than a team that doesn’t believe it can do that and shuts up shop.
I’m very aware that we’ve been beaten at critical times in the past by teams that have a perverse combination of those elements: they believe that the only way they can beat us is by not playing, just spoiling.
Like France, when they go the Biarritz way.
Like South Africa almost any time at all.
The 2010 Tri Nations begins with two home tests against the champions, who did us 3–0 last year.
‘If all the Springboks do during this Tri Nations is pretty much keep the ball amongst their heavyweight forwards and rely on Morne Steyn’s boot to retain the trophy, then the game worldwide is in serious trouble,’ writes Peter Bills. He also opines that the South Africans ‘have the strongest and best squad’.
Last year after Hamilton, I might have agreed with him. I don’t any more.
Ted’s been assembling the big picture during the Super 14 and the Steinlager Series has been a good shakedown. We go into Eden Park with no major injuries and a determination to really take it to them. The night before the game I note in the Warwick that I’m looking forward to another great day doing what I do.
And it is a great day. The Boks look as lost this year as we were last year. It becomes apparent early on that they haven’t adjusted their game to the new ‘interpretation’ and expect to make hay with
the same old same old. But it’s not just the tackled ball interpretation that’s different. We’re different, in mindset and strategy.
We smash their double runners back with huge defensive hits. That takes guts. Reado and Jerome are immense. We’ve also learnt to catch and compete in the air, both at lineout time and in general play, and this year we’re able to launch counter-attacks and recycle quickly and securely if we get stopped.
There’s one of those signature moments midway first half, when Mils, who’s been out with injury and needs a good game after Israel Dagg’s debut, takes a Ricky Januarie up-and-under beautifully. Joe Rocks gives Mils a heads-up that he has room and Mils rips them apart on the counter. Seven points. We’re able to breach the gain-line through Ma’a and the loosies, and keep the pressure on them in the set-pieces. It’s true that we try to avoid kicking the ball out, to give them as few lineouts as possible, but when we have to go there, we do the business. Elsewhere, in scrums and breakdowns, we’re brutal and we feel we’ve got the wood on them.
Backing up a performance like that has always been problematic.
John Smit admits their minds ‘weren’t in the right place’. There are reports that the Boks were still jet-lagged after getting into Auckland too late, that key players were still wandering around yawning on game day. Maybe Bakkies was sleepwalking when he assaulted Jimmy and got sin-binned. It was so crass that you had to wonder what the hell he thought he was doing.
If that game doesn’t wake them up, nothing will. We’re expecting a backlash, if that’s the right term for a team that relies on strangulation. John Smit is reported as describing his team as a malevolent hybrid of python and green mamba that constricts the life out of its prey and then delivers deadly strikes when its prey’s limbs are limp. I can’t compete with that. We’ve got the odd boar and a tiny poisonous spider that might give you a nip if you sit in the wrong place on a sandhill, but the thing that kills more people than anything else in our bush is the weather. Hypothermia doesn’t really stack up against pythons and green mambas, but you can usually count on Wellington to do its darndest.
Another great day doing what I do . . . against South Africa at Eden Park.
This time, though, Wellington serves up a clear night. Danie Rossouw replaces Bakkies and also replicates his yellow card, for an attack on my head with boot and fist, neither of which impresses Richard Loe: ‘It wasn’t a kick, it was a nudge, and the punches weren’t up to much either.’ That’s a relief—I shouldn’t have felt a thing.
We score a point a minute for the 10 that Rossouw is gone. It gets tough before halftime, and midway through the second half, where they get some possession and drive and the game might be in the balance.
The way we deal with those moments, the brutal defence we put in, and the way we keep our confidence in the game plan, are as satisfying as anything else. We’re 14 months away from the RWC and we know that it’s those moments, when we’re under the cosh and keep our shape and composure, that will determine whether we’re winners or losers.
Kieran is mighty again, Jerome’s not far behind him and it’s hard to find anyone who didn’t have a good night. Piri’s Man of the Match in some people’s estimation and shows such startling pace when he scores his try that he’s described by one journalist as ‘a runaway fire hydrant’.
Two weeks later we cream Australia in Melbourne, 49–28.
‘This was shock and awe rugby . . .’ writes Gregor Paul. ‘This was the Russian tanks rolling into Prague . . .’ Not sure about that, but we are pleased with ourselves. A more satisfying reference by the same writer is to the great Dutch team of the Johan Cruyff era that was known for playing Total Football, where defenders could attack, and everyone in the team had a plethora of skills. Paul points out that it was Dan who won the turnover for Mils’ first try and it was two tight forwards, Kevvy and Brad, who then ‘pulled off the neatest and slickest of interchanges to get the ball to the wing’.
Wallaby legend John Eales proclaims we’re on the verge of a great era.
And it is starting to feel special. The team’s fizzing, I’m fizzing. Seven tries against Australia at home ain’t bad.
A week later, we host a much better Aussie team in Christchurch. Their forwards are able to hang on to possession for long periods and really test our defensive structure and faith in one another. A different sort of test for us, but no less valuable, forcing us to work hard for everything we get in a 20–10 win. It’s a different type of game, where we’re in control on the scoreboard, play smart and shut it down. Conservative by our standards, but effective. We need to be able to play like that too.
Shock and awe rugby . . . dotting down against Australia at Melbourne.
Robbie’s homecoming might be miserable—the win secures the Bledisloe for another year and is our ninth consecutive win against Australia, all since he took over—but at least he can look across the AMI Stadium at the new Deans Stand.
We invite the Aussies into our changing rooms for a beer, but they’ve got a bus or plane to catch. After the match in Melbourne, when we were disappointed not to be invited by them for a beer, there’s a growing perception on our part that Robbie wants to keep the Aussies from fraternising with us. Okay, we can appreciate he’s just lost his ninth test in a row to us and is under a fair bit of pressure, but even so, he’s back in Christchurch, his home town, with a lot of us across the corridor who know him and would have welcomed him.
The difference between the Boks and the Aussies seems to be that once the game is over, the Boks are ready to drop their guard and have a beer with us, so I’ve been able to get to know articulate, worldly guys like Schalk Burger, Victor Matfield, John Smit and Jean de Villiers. The du Plessis brothers are formidable opponents but are great mates off the field with Horey, and I’ve got to know them a wee bit through him. I’ve always had a lot of time for George Smith and I got to know and like George Gregan when we played together in the Baabaas, but apart from Nathan Sharpe, I can’t say much about many of the current Aussie team because I don’t know them.
Bring it on . . . at the National Stadium, Soweto, 2010.
We’re happy to be where we are, and our mindset for the trip to Johannesburg for the third game against South Africa is Bring It On! At a leaders’ meeting on Jo’burg we talk about what that BIO mindset means in terms of clarity and intensity. A win will confirm the Tri Nations for us, but it’s also the last time we play these guys for 12 months, and we want to leave them stewing on as many doubts and troubles as possible.
We take it easy early in the week and keep trainings short and sharp, so we’re well acclimatised by the time we take the field at the amazing National Stadium in Soweto. The Fifa world Cup has been and gone but it sounds like every one of the 94,000 crowd has held on to their vuvuzela. The Boks come out after two losses with big attitude. The physicality and intensity they bring to the game is a big step up from anything they showed us in Auckland and wellington.
It’s one of the most satisfying tests I’ve ever played in. The Boks have us under the cosh for much of it, determined to send us a message, and partly due to Dan having a bit of an off-day by his standards we’re 17–22 down with a couple of minutes to go. we have to score twice to win, and one of them has to be a try.
I’m disappointed that we’ve given the Africans what looks like a winning lead, but behind the scenes, we’ve been doing a lot of work with Ceri Evans on how to handle the psychological pressure in exactly this sort of situation, and there’s part of me that relishes the opportunity to find out if we’ve learnt anything. Evans is a former All White defender who’s now a consultant forensic psychiatrist and Clinical Director of the Canterbury Regional Forensic Psychiatric Service.
Celebrating with Cory Jane after just getting over for the try at Soweto.
We keep believing. From a penalty, we take the tap-and-go, and I find myself out on the touchline with an overlap. It’s a case of putting my head down and going for it. Maybe I’m lucky, because
the video replay can’t say definitively whether or not my foot is in touch when I drive for the line. But as we wait for the video ref’s decision, instead of sweating on the decision, we talk about what we need to do next if the call goes against us and we go to a defensive lineout. As it happens, the try is awarded: 22–22. Dan lines up the conversion to win the game . . . And misses.
It would be easy to settle for that. We don’t, that’s what’s really pleasing. Despite the supposed disadvantage of altitude, we feel we’ve had the Boks on the rack in the last 20 minutes and the desire is in us to press for a win rather than settle for the draw. From the last move of the game, Conrad and I get a turnover in a defensive ruck and Ma’a attacks John Smit’s right shoulder, makes the break, losing a boot in the process, and throws a wide flat ball to Israel Dagg who goes over in the corner. John Smit, in the last minute of his 100th test, lies on the ground clutching Ma’a’s boot, watching Israel score the winning try. ‘It’s a cruel game,’ says John, as we walk off the pitch together. What can I say? Yep.
‘It doesn’t get any bigger than that,’ says Ted afterwards, ‘that was a huge game of rugby.’
While I can understand Ted’s sentiments and how great it feels to seal the Tri Nations championship, we know it does get bigger than that: it’s going to get much bigger than that in 13 months’ time.
My only worry is how long away that is. The Boks have gone from Tri Nations champs to chumps in the space of 12 months. The pace of change year on year is disconcerting. If there’s a worry, it’s that we have to hold the advantage we’ve got until the end of next year. We were ready a year early before the last RWC too, playing our best rugby in 2006, which we weren’t able to reproduce for one reason or another in 2007, when it mattered.
