I heard it again this week: that phrase so seductive, so flirtatious; those words that seem to promise so much and yet keep their fulfilment ever just out of reach. That term in which a vast world of meaning seems to reside, and yet which when looked at directly shies and ducks out of view like a startled fawn.
Yes, I heard it again this week: “the Australian way”.
It’s quite common to hear observers of rugby in this country, and even practitioners of the game, call for those who pull on a gold jersey to play “the Australian way”.
Some express the conviction that winning or losing is less important than playing the Australian way. Some are convinced that the Australian way is important precisely because it will result in victory. It is, by turns, the key to reclaiming our rightful spot on top of the world, the surefire way to return the game to mass popularity, and a sacred trust that all Australian rugby players and coaches should be maintaining for its own sake and which too many of them have betrayed.
But what is the Australian way, exactly? What is the unique essence of Australian rugby that unlocks whatever potential is currently locked, that satisfies the desires of the Wallaby spirits, that could make all things well in this land if only we would recommit to it?
It turns out it’s kind of hard to pin down. At first glance the Australian way seems to be some kind of interpretation of “running rugby”. You may remember the early 90s, back when rugby was a joyous leisure pursuit, before it evolved into its more sophisticated current form when it is mainly a psychological outlet for jaded victims of late capitalism to vent their inherent loathing of the human race in a socially acceptable way.
Back then there was a television commercial starring David “Goose-Step Mama” Campese as the coach of a team of scrawny, malnourished children who for some reason had been forced to play a game of rugby against a group of adult professional wrestlers. After a first half of being brutally stomped on, the disheartened littlies slumped to the ground, only to have Campo step up and tell them to “RUN THE BALL”. He also rectified the team’s biggest problem from the first half: forgetting to put on the theme song.
And so in the second half the skinny waifs started flipping the ball about madly, running rings around the clumsy behemoths opposing them and proving to the world that large children are bad people. It also proved that the way to play rugby was to throw the ball about with abandon and play with dash and dare at all times, for this was the AUSTRALIAN WAY.
So maybe that’s the Australian way? After all, just before that ad came out, Campese had inspired the Wallabies to victory in just that manner at the World Cup, where Australia’s breathtaking running rugby won hearts all over the world and proved irresistible against all comers. At that tournament, Wallaby coach Bob Dwyer had uttered his immortal catchphrase, “Kick it to the shithouse!” which…actually never mind, that doesn’t really fit, does it. He was probably just flustered from being so close to the Queen.
Anyway, that’s one theory as to what the Australian way is: running the ball at every opportunity and emphasising attacking flair over boring kickathons or mindless forward drives.
Another theory would have it that the Australian way is less about specific tactics and more about mindset. This theory goes that Austrralian rugby players are indeed like the wispy youths of that ad campaign, and so must play smarter against their inevitably bigger and more ferocious foes.
Under this model, Australian rugby is all about out-thinking the opposition: when confronted with the genetically engineered super-soldiers of New Zealand or South Africa or England or France or Ireland or Wales or Italy or Fiji or Scotland or Argentina or Georgia or every other country in the world where they breed them bigger than the inevitable mosquito squadrons available to us, Australians must rely on the one advantage they have, which is that we are inherently more intelligent than other countries.
This might involve a modicum of running rugby, but it will also at times necessitate cunningly placed kicks, devilish lineout tactics, unconventional structures, intricate rehearsed plays, secret codes, double-crosses, mysterious moonlit meetings in deserted parks to exchange confidential documents, and so on. The Australian way, in a nutshell, is to accept our physical inferiority and think of ways around it.
Or is the Australian way not about thought at all, but about feeling? This theory posits that the one thing Australians do better than anyone else is give 110%, leave it all out on the field, never say die, play for the jumper, lay down their lives for their mates, embody the ANZAC spirit and so on.
That version of the Australian way would have it that the Wallabies need to take advantage of the fact that Australians just naturally care more about things than non-Australians, and therefore can overwhelm oppositions with the sheer force of their passion – if only they can access that passion and forget all the stultifying new-age management speak that malign forces seek to impose on the game.
If our men can only hurl themselves into every ruck and maul and tackle with the ferocity of a digger charging across No Man’s Land; if they can simply whip themselves into a patriotic frenzy when they take the field, they will be unbeatable, because they will be playing the Australian way – that is, giving maximum effort at all times. To put it in a nutshell, this theory goes, Australia needs to become the Queensland State of Origin team of rugby nations, and win not because of strategy or tactics or intelligence or playing ability, but purely because they want it more.
All of these concepts of the “Australian way” have one thing in common: they specify as a starting point that Australian rugby has at some point stopped playing the Australian way, and that is what has led to all of our woes.
As a passionate Australian rugby supporter who is very keen to get rid of those woes, then, I have carefully investigated the evidence in a quest to discover the definitive answer to the question, “what is the Australian way of playing rugby?” Poring over the history of Wallaby teams, endless reams of statistical data and match reports, and undertaking a forensic meta-analysis of all previous studies of Australian rugby practice both on and off field, I found the answer. And it was quite a surprising one.
Because it turns out that the Australian way of playing rugby is, in fact…the way that Australians play rugby.
For example, go look at a clip of Australians playing rugby from the 1970s. See the way they’re playing? That’s the Australian way. Then check out one from the 1990s. Note their way of playing – that is the Australian way. Look at how the Wallabies played in the 2003 World Cup, and then the 2007 World Cup, and then the 2010 Bledisloe, and then the 2017 Rugby Championship, and then the 2022 spring tour, and then the 2023 World Cup, and then last weekend’s game against Wales. You’ll see many differences, but one overriding similarity: in every single case, those teams are playing the Australian way.
Know how I know? Because they’re Australian, and they are playing. And the way that Australians play, is the Australian way of playing.
This is actually pretty good news for anyone urging Joe Schmidt to get the current Wallaby team to play the Australian way: there is a 100% chance that he is going to, because no matter how Schmidt’s team plays, they will be playing the Australian way. This is a function of the fact that every Australian team in history has played the Australian way by definition and couldn’t avoid playing the Australian way if they tried.
So my advice to Joe Schmidt would be: get your team playing rugby the Australian way, by selecting a team of Australians, and getting them to play rugby.
Some people might see all this as my way of saying that anyone bemoaning the failure of Wallaby teams to play “the Australian way” is talking bollocks, but that’s a very unfair accusation. Frankly those people are being very un-Australian.