Saving a Country: The All Blacks at Eden Park

Saving a Country: The All Blacks at Eden Park

For so long, a nation that has produced a string of outstanding rugby sides has stumbled at the last hurdle. Gods take it upon themselves to destroy those they deem gifted. The World Cup is hardly something that populates the otherwise stacked All-Back trophy cabinet. At a certain point on Sunday, it seemed that the trend would continue.

Prior to the final between the New Zealand and France, there was much nonsense spouted about an All Black juggernaut, relentlessly sweeping aside Thierry Dusautoir’s technically challenged men. If one was to refer to the history books, one would find enough to suggest that such observations are the stuff of fantasy – the French have had it on the All Blacks at various critical stages of World Cup history. In 2007 at Cardiff, the New Zealanders were famously ambushed. As the proceedings at Eden Park began, the French signalled a novel and defiant approach to the haka, adopting an arrowhead formation with their captain as its tip, then moving slowly to the All Blacks line, coming precariously close.

True to final’s form, New Zealand’s fabled ascendancy never materialised, choked by French tenacity and mesmerized by bold grace. Both sides played what could only be described as the match of the tournament, though the home side had assumed a mechanical posture. Two tries, one a piece, and a series of missed shots on goal, were the order of the day. The kicking boots of Piri Weepu had been left in the lockers but so had those of Francois Trinh-Duc, whose attempt to get a field goal was in vain. Dimitri Yachvili, whose kicking is generally sound, was oddly replaced.

In the second half, the French began attacking with well executed, nimble footed fury having absorbed the All Black push in the first. The All Blacks in turn countered with a cracking, grinding defence, grim and pragmatic. Legs were dislocated. Concussions inflicted. The bodies started sprawling. But as the match moved on, the French began assuming more and more possession, despite the generosity shown to the All Black side by South African referee Craig Joubert. (‘He did not want us to win,’ concluded a disgruntled Yachvili.) With Dussatoir’s converted try, history’s shadow began to cast its cloud over Graham Henry’s team.

The final few minutes saw a desperate effort by New Zealand to maintain possession after a questionable turn over in their favour, depriving France of a chance to make a final push to the line, or play for a penultimate field goal. Trench warfare tactics were applied. While frustrating viewing, the effort was perfectly understandable. In the words of Robert Kitson, writing for the Guardian, ‘This one simply boiled down to the All Blacks’ fear of walking off their favourite field as beaten finalists in a game they were expected to win by the length of North Island.’

Henry and Captain Richie McCaw will be relieved to have dispelled the ghosts that have shadowed the teams of past. One is almost tempted to look beyond the match itself, off the field to see its symbolic power. Panacea for the Christchurch earthquake or Pike River mining disaster? A balm for bouts of national depression? Such observations might be hyperbole, though the impact of Union on the country is hard to overestimate. ‘We have God and rugby,’ proclaimed Prime Minister John Key. Simon Mannix, who played his one and only match as an All Black against France in 1994, expanded on the theme. ‘Twenty-two guys have saved a country.’

The French, whose sentiments were expressed so well in pieces such as Julien Schramm’s Le Monde tribute, proved gracious – disappointed at the score, but noting that the overall result in the competition was a fair one. The French coach Marc Lièvremont summed it up perfectly for his side in terms of feelings – ‘immensely sad and immensely proud.’

Binoy Kampmark was a Commonwealth Scholar at Selwyn College, Cambridge. He lectures at RMIT University, Melbourne. Email: bkampmark@gmail.com

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