Rugby Union has never made any serious inroads into my sporting psyche. A strange mix of class and geography has left me immune down the years to the merits of a sport that thrills toffs and taffs (that’s posh people and the Welsh). I was never brought up on the intricate formulas of the game.
I may have visited 70-odd English football grounds, a cricket venue in every county except the homes of Glamorgan and Derbyshire, plus numerous racetracks ranging from Ascot to the dangerous Daily Telegraph day trips to York. But Twickenham, the spiritual home of rugby, has been off my radar. Well, I did go there once but that was for an REM concert for my sister Dianne’s birthday in August 2008. It was a good gig. Shame that Blackburn Rovers had to start the day off badly with a 4-1 defeat across the other side of London at West Ham.
Even when England won the World Cup against host nation Australia in November 2003 thanks to the boot of Jonny Wilkinson I was caught almost in a state of indifference as time ticked away. I did not want the game to last any longer than possible — I just wanted someone, anyone, to win. Gabs and me were watching the match in the hotel foyer of the Red Rose suite at the “real” Old Trafford, the Lancashire cricket ground. Why? Because Rovers were playing over the road against Manchester United. I just wanted to leave the bags and get to the Trafford pub on Chester Road to anesthetise myself with some pints of bitter ahead of our annual defeat at the den of Satan — the “other” Old Trafford. Eventually Wilkinson kicked the decisive drop goal in the dying seconds and I admit I did leap up and down. England had beaten Australia and I could head off for pre-game pints.
However, a sport that sees it as positive to lump the ball into the crowd to make progress and where the referee has the starring role, blowing his whistle for seemingly minor indiscretions, has never held any real fascination for me. This is not to knock the sport — it’s just a personal view. I do take a passing interest such as keeping an eye on England’s dismal World Cup early exit last year on home soil. Rugby League convert Sam Burgess seemed to be made the exclusive scapegoat for that. No wonder he’s now back at South Sydney, playing rugby league. From the debris of that doomed campaign ebullient Australian Eddie Jones took charge and immediately transformed England into worthy Six Nations champions. And so this week, for once, I have been following rugby union news with great fervour. The reason? Eddie Jones. Here is an Aussie coach in charge of the English team who is so full of vigour, good vibes and seems eminently quotable, that he just wins you over. He breezed back into his own native backyard ready for the ensuing flak, took it and gave it back via England’s win the first Test in Brisbane last week. No doubt my mate old Sydney Morning Herald mate Pete Brown would have loved it.
In the build-up to the Test, Eddie even evoked the spirit of cricket’s Bodyline, which is always assured of rousing Australians’ ire. Particularly when the English dish it up with a smile. In the words of the esteemed former journalist with The Times, Simon Barnes, Bodyline is “the greatest sporting whinge of all time.” So Eddie knew what he was doing when he stirred the pot. He almost comes across as rugby union’s version of Jose Mourinho, such is his maverick but confident demeanour. Eddie’s team certainly took it to the more fancied home side as the game unfolded in Brisbane. Bodyline-style, the bullies became the bullied. “They don’t like it up ‘em,” as Lance Corporal Jones, portrayed by Clive Dunn, used to say in the Dad’s Army television series of yesteryear. The result certainly made me sit up and take notice.
Now can Eddie and his resurgent squad carry this on into the second Test in Melbourne on Saturday? The Australians are definitely rattled and coach Michael Cheika has been forced into changes. But they are also roused and ready for revenge. It will be no mean feat if England upset the odds again. Rugby sits some way down the sporting ladder, even in Australia, so in many ways the code should be grateful for Eddie’s England making such a bold impression. Now it’s on to Melbourne to see who will be making the headlines this weekend. For once, I will be glued to the action.
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