OK, so not every one of my formulations for a Waratahs win turned out to be necessary – clearly, this NSW team is so good it can win even without the world’s greatest ever player, and Taniela Tupou seemed only mildly annoyed throughout his stint – but you can’t deny I was on the money with a few of them.
Getting the Brumbies carded worked a treat. The Waratahs were seen on several occasions actually trying to defend mauls. Giving the ball to Noah Lolesio was one of the Tahs’ most effective gambits. And the ginger WAS unleashed – the match-winning try came from a Max Jorgensen kick after deadset legend Tane Edmed, he of the flaming bonce and peerless vision, spun a beautiful long pass to release the winger.
So I’m feeling pretty smug right now, as even my well-worn philosophy of tipping against the Waratahs paid off beautifully.
Tane Edmed (Photo by Getty Images)
I’ll admit there are questions to be asked about the win. Why, for example, was Tom Hooper given a yellow card for a perfectly-executed German suplex, when all relevant precedent suggests the correct course of action was to award him the match and a chance to fight Roman Reigns next week at the Royal Rumble?
Why was Max Jorgensen allowed to throw the ball back from the fifth row? Why did Ben O’Keeffe disallow a Brumbies try after reviewing footage of the 2016 Super Rugby quarter-final? Why did the recently released JFK files reveal a conspiracy between Fidel Castro, J. Edgar Hoover and Lyndon Johnson to force Phil Waugh to disband the Melbourne Rebels and give all their players to NSW?
All fair questions, But…just for now, can we maybe take a moment and think about another important issue: the issue of how freaking awesome that game was?
Some of you will no doubt deny that it was awesome. Some of you will bemoan not only the dodgy officiating, but also the many mistakes, the lack of discipline, the absence of ruthless efficiency or tight structure in much of the play.
But what I will point to is this: all four of the Waratahs’ tries – and, for a bonus, one of the Brumbies’ – were exactly the kind of tries that get crowds to their feet, get blood pumping with exhilarating energy through the arteries, and generate that familiar tingle that reminds a person of why they always did think rugby was the best.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I am an admirer of efficient, well-drilled rugby teams. I love powerful, cohesive forward play. I know how important a strong scrum is to any hope of success in rugby. I want every team I support to value percentage plays and to practice relentless pressure-building on the opposition line as a path to victory.
Believe me, if the Wallabies win the next World Cup final by scoring one try from a lineout maul, another two penalty tries from scrums, and kicking six goals from penalties after 20 phases of one-out crash balls, I will be absolutely overjoyed and will not quibble about flair or adventure or the Australian Way or anything else I read in David Campese’s autobiography.
All I am saying is: all the clockwork precision in set play in the world cannot set a heart afire like the opportunistic scythe that the Waratahs swung through the Brumbies’ cornfield four times on Saturday night.
Take a look at ’em. First, near halfway Teddy Wilson swings it left to prop Isaac Kailea. He does not put his head down and thump into the defence. He pops a pass to fullback Andrew Kellaway, bursting onto the ball at speed just like all our coaches always told us to. Kellaway is almost immediately enveloped by two defenders, but even more immediately flips the ball on to Tupou, another prop who deftly draws another tackler and passes like a man with dreams of one day wearing 13. The pass is taken by flanker Rob Leota, who thunders down the touchline, reaches the fullback, turns it inside and finds Wilson again, backing up and hurtling the rest of the way to the tryline. It’s a thing of speed and skill and timing and absolute attacking exuberance from players who find their positions to be no restriction on what they might do on a rugby field.
And then second, again around halfway, Noah Lolesio spills the ball (Tahs again following my advice), and it’s scooped up by Joey Walton, who quickly spreads it to Triston Reilly. Reilly throws it on the boot, a kick, seemingly, of purest speculation. For a second Reilly’s action appears a little aimless. Except that Triston Reilly knows that Tom Wright is a long way away, and that he, Reilly, has a bit of toe about him. The ball bounces, sits up, and the winger comes down like a wolf on the fold. Nobody else was chasing. Nobody else needed to. Reilly has gestured mesmerically, waved his silk handkerchief with a flourish, and pulled a try out of his hat with consummate showmanship.
Photo by Darrian Traynor/Getty Images)
And then…the Tahs are battering away in the Brumbies’ 22. They’re recycling possession well, inching their way forward charge by charge. They could keep doing this for a while, playing with iron discipline and seeking to crack the Brumby wall. But instead, Wilson passes to Langi Gleeson at first receiver. Like any good no. 8 should, he flicks with quick hands to Max Jorgensen at second receiver, who as all good wingers would, throws a massive, looping pass from his position in front of the posts to the left wing, which is where Jorgensen plays, but not where he is. Who is there is, for the second time, Rob Leota, who knows that all good blindside flankers have a responsibility to spend most of their time on the wing waiting for a pass. Leota gathers the ball on the bounce, has a bit of a giggle at the adorable sight of Andy Muirhead trying to tackle him, and plunges over.
And then…our favourite ginger fires out that beautiful cut-out and surprisingly finds Jorgensen rather than Leota on the left wing. Jorgensen puts a cheeky little dink over the top, gets his toe to it again before it bounces, is blocked off the ball but watches Joey Walton gallop onto it and dive over to rapturous bellows from the crowd and me personally. Another moment of sudden, dazzling inspiration, a try born of explosive joie de vivre. Who could not be glad they were alive in that moment? Stephen Larkham, obviously, but then he’s not alive to begin with.
And then a little bit of dessert, as the Brumbies refuse to go down without a fight, and Jack Debrzceni sends a sumptuous kick arcing high into the night sky and landing perfectly for Muirhead to touch down. A magnificent shot out of left field to keep hope alive, heroic even if ultimately futile.
Now, of course in amongst all that were two other Brumbies tries, tries created from grit and grunt and brutal drive, a forward pack working in harmony to overwhelm the barricades. And that’s great. What is so wonderful about rugby is all the different ways tries can be scored: burrowing over from an inch out, dashing through the lines from 100, and everything in between. Scrums, mauls, set plays, high kicks, low kicks, individual scoots and sweeping all-in passing moves. They’re all part of this rich tapestry.
But be honest: those burrows from an inch out? Those lumbering, inevitable maul tries? Those close-range crashes over after phase on phase on phase of risk-minimising rucks? We’re never in any danger of suffering a shortage of them, are we? And what’s more, as much as the grinding game is necessary, valuable, indicative of great skill and commitment, and very gratifying when it results in a win…it doesn’t get on the highlights reel, does it?
Dan McKellar shares a moment with Max Jorgensen after the round six Super Rugby Pacific match between NSW Waratahs and ACT Brumbies. (Photo by Darrian Traynor/Getty Images)
I am not going to push the line that teams should try to score tries like those on Saturday night in order to attract more fans and increase crowd sizes and boost revenue and bring in a huge broadcast deal and persuade every child in Australia to cut their hair like Max Jorgensen. I’m just going to push the line that no matter what you think of how and why the Waratahs won, no matter how salty you are about the refereeing or sceptical that NSW’s style of play will ever hold up once a tight, tough, mistake-free unit applies a blowtorch, no matter how intellectual and entirely correct an analysis of the game you produce…
…it’s when players seize moments with effervescent verve and daring that rugby takes flight and provides the kind of inspiration that structure and technique and cool, calculating adherence to game plans can’t quite manage on their own. I’ll be happy if Australian teams just keep winning this year. But I’ll be more excited if they do it while producing more of the magic the Tahs conjured out of nowhere on Saturday night.
