Pool matches saw some incredible performances, notably the 24–23 victory by Ireland over Wales which once again saw that proud rugby nation leave the tournament before the knockout stages. The tournament also revealed a twenty-year-old who literally burst onto the scene and become the icon of the World Cup, New Zealand’s massive left-wing Jonah Lomu. He certainly left his mark on international rugby (in addition to leaving his mark on several players) and scored tries practically at will. Almost overnight this 6ft 5in, 19st battering ram, who could run the 100 metres in about eleven seconds, became a phenomenon. He was scary enough performing the haka; at full pelt he became truly frightening.
England played Australia in the quarter-final and Rob Andrew’s dropped goal in the final minute of extra-time knocked the favourites out. It was a tough defeat for the Australians to take, having harboured such high hopes of retaining the Webb Ellis Cup when the tournament began. The English supporters, however, revelled in the victory, as John Eales, one of the Australian locks playing that day, recalls.
‘Walking off the pitch I felt the disappointment of defeat, and in the days that followed the feeling grew rather than subsided. We had a World Cup song which had been sung ad nauseam throughout the campaign and one of the lines was “We’ve won the cup, we ain’t giving it up.” When we arrived back at the team hotel we were greeted by rugby’s equivalent of cricket’s Barmy Army. Hundreds of English rugby supporters, all singing our song with a few word changes: “You’ve lost the cup, you stuffed it up.” I think it was “stuffed” anyway.’
Poor lambs. And if that wasn’t bad enough, worse was to follow for John and his team-mates. Following their exit from the tournament they headed straight home and it was while they were in transit at Perth airport that perhaps the full impact of the defeat hit them. Rugby is all about the supporters and as a player, knowing you have let down those that follow you and cheer you on is worse than your personal disappointment. In 1995 Australia were confronted by this reality almost face to face.
‘We were in Perth airport at the same time a planeload of Australians were going the other way, heading to South Africa to watch us play in the semi-final of the World Cup! It was an awful moment. Their expectations had obviously been as high as ours, and as a result they had booked the trip many weeks or months in advance. We had let them down, and now they were on their way to watch England against New Zealand, a match they wouldn’t normally cross the road to glance at if they hadn’t already paid thousands of dollars for the trip. This was an exceptionally ‘ordinary’ moment for me, probably the lowest in my entire rugby career.’
The England team were to face their own low moment not long after John’s airport encounter when Jonah Lomu almost single-handedly tore them apart in the semi-final but I’ll leave it to others in the stories that follow to relive the big man’s astonishing impact. In the other semi-final in Durban South Africa beat France in a match played from start to finish in a rain storm so heavy that there were moments just before, and even during, the game when abandonment seemed the only option. Interestingly, if the game had not been played, France would have gone through due to a better disciplinary record. What that would have done to the history of the game, one can only guess at.
The final was played at Ellis Park in Johannesburg between New Zealand and South Africa and after eighty minutes the scores stood at 9–9. The match went into extra-time and it came down to the Springboks’ fly-half Joel Stransky to kick the winning dropped goal for a 15–12 South African victory.
There is no doubt that the most memorable moment of the tournament was Nelson Mandela, recently released after twenty-seven years in prison on Robben Island and wearing a replica of the Springbok captain François Pienaar’s jersey with a number 6 on the back, presenting the trophy in Johannesburg on Saturday 24 June to François and thanking the South African team for what they had done for the country. ‘One team, one country,’ he cried. From that moment a party started in South Africa that some say lasted for four days.
A couple of weeks after the final reports began to circulate that were to have a massive impact on the game of rugby. It was being said that hundreds of the world’s best players had signed up for a super league after being offered large financial inducements. The amateur game was cracking at the seams and it was just weeks after these rumours broke that the game of rugby union entered the professional era on 26 August 1995. Thoughts ten years earlier that a World Cup competition would help prevent the game becoming professional had, if anything, accelerated it towards professionalism.
What Did Suzie Do Next?
Having been a member of England’s victorious World Cup sevens team in 1993 and gaining selection to tour South Africa a year later, I felt I stood a chance of making the squad in 1995. But on the day of the announcement, no matter how many times I listened to the radio or read the press my name was nowhere to be seen or heard. As an ambitious player I wanted to be involved and was hugely disappointed when the Bath No. 8 Steve Ojomo received the nod ahead of me. However, looking on the bright side I did not run across, or probably more accurately get run over by, Jonah Lomu. Every cloud and all that.
I’m not certain of the validity of this story but I have heard it told on several occasions. Apparently James Small, the South African winger in 1995, was a little bit concerned about facing Jonah in the World Cup final and requested a meeting with the team coach Kitch Christie. James asked Kitch for advice on how to defend against the giant All Black and in a very relaxed manner, Kitch explained how simple it was. ‘All you have to do when he’s running towards you is to get on his outside and shepherd him infield. This will give our back row and centres the chance to climb all over him and bring him down.’
‘But what if Jonah makes an outside break?’ asked James.
‘I’ve thought of that as well,’ replied Kitch. ‘You need to stay on his inside and force him towards the touchline, which will become our sixteenth player, keeping him on the field of play. As he straightens up, once again our back row and centres should be across in time to bring him down.’
Thinking he had covered all the bases, Kitch stood to leave the room when James piped up again. ‘What if he runs straight at me?’
‘Ah, now this scenario is simple. All you need to do is turn around, bend down, pick up a piece of shit and throw it at him. With a bit of luck he’ll be distracted and forced to slow down.’
James thought about this unusual piece of advice and asked the obvious question. ‘What if there isn’t a piece of shit behind me?’
‘Believe me, if he’s running straight at you, there will be,’ was the reply. And apparently there was!
Incidentally, Kitch Christie was the South African coach from 1994 to 1996 and was unbeaten during this period, leading his country to a then record fourteen consecutive victories, one of which was the 1995 World Cup final, the first tournament they had been allowed to participate in in the post-apartheid era. Not a bad record.
Whilst I wasn’t involved in 1995, I was close to the squad and have heard numerous tales from the boys who played, one of which involves the third- and fourth-place playoff match. If there is a more inconsequential game in rugby, I don’t know it. Who cares who comes third? Whichever countries are participating, one assumes they gave their all throughout the tournament and came up short at the semi-final stage. To then make them play a further match seems ludicrous to me, and also to the England team of 1995 apparently.
The players were not interested in the fixture and the majority of them decided to go to a bar the night before the game for a couple of quiet beers and reflect on the tournament before returning home a few days later. As they walked in they could hear a loud party taking place at the back of the bar, champagne flowing and the distinctive smell of Gauloises cigarettes. Closer inspection revealed it was the French team, England’s opponents the following day. Clearly they had a similar opinion on the importance of a playoff. Although France had started their party before England and conti
nued after the English left, they still ran out 19–9 winners in the ‘crucial’ match a few hours later. French flair or a relaxed approach? I’ll leave it with you. Mind you, England may have been a little premature in dismissing the match. It was subsequently discovered that the team securing third in 1995 gained automatic qualification to the 1999 tournament, while the team finishing fourth had to qualify (oops).
The final between New Zealand and South Africa was another match that could not be decided in eighty minutes, and once again it took a dropped goal to secure South Africa’s 15–12 victory. It was something of a miracle the All Blacks lasted through extra-time as the majority of the side had succumbed to severe food poisoning forty-eight hours earlier, and ever since the match there has been a series of conspiracy theories. Had the chilli sauce, chicken burgers or sweet and sour prawns served to the team been poisoned by a waitress known as ‘Suzie’? Nothing was ever proved but the incident does highlight how players’ diets have changed with the advent of professionalism. I can’t imagine chicken burgers or sweet and sour prawns being on the modern player’s menu, at least not during a World Cup tournament. Just goes to show, not everything about the modern game is an improvement.
Tight as Newts
François Pienaar
François is arguably most famous for being captain of the first Springbok team to lift the World Cup. Before the 1995 tournament the Springboks were seeded only ninth and were certainly not expected to dethrone the incumbent champions Australia.
‘All rugby followers will remember the remarkable post-match presentation ceremony with Nelson Mandela, but may have forgotten François’s acceptance speech, where he made it clear the team had won the trophy not just for the 60,000 fans at Ellis Park, but also for all 43,000,000 South Africans. It was the dawn of the Rainbow Nation.
‘I got to know François well when he moved to the UK in 1997 and became player-coach at Saracens. In fact I’m not sure I’ve forgiven him and his team for inflicting defeat on Wasps in the 1998 Pilkington Cup final.
‘As a player he was uncompromising, and when you look at the record of Saracens during his tenure you realise he was some coach as well. I think they qualified for the Heineken Cup during each of his four years’ involvement. François writes as captain of a World Cup-winning team and previous winner of the prestigious International Player of the Year award, and I am delighted he has made a contribution to this book.
Friday 1 April 2011
I received a phone call this morning from Lawrence Dallaglio asking me if I would contribute a World Cup memory for a book he was producing. As a fellow rugby player and friend I was more than happy to help.
‘What sort of thing are you looking for?’
‘To be honest any recollection at all that you have of the 1995 tournament and preferably something humorous.’
‘If you want something humorous, why are you ringing me?’ I enquired. ‘I don’t do humour, you know that.’
‘Well, perhaps something informative then.’
As I was speaking I looked up at a calendar hanging from the wall in my office and I knew he was winding me up. The conversation carried on for several more minutes in which he explained about Wooden Spoon, the benefiting charity, and shared with me a couple of stories which had already been submitted. We said our goodbyes and I put the phone down. I was being set up for something, but I didn’t know what. Anyway I had an hour to spare and decided to scribble something down, but I want everyone to know I wasn’t taken in by his April Fool’s phone call. I’m not certain how the following is going to come back and bite me in the arse, but the one thing I am absolutely certain of is that it will not appear in Lol’s mythical World Cup book. So with that in mind, here goes.
As I said, I don’t do humour. Nevertheless, I would like to share with you a decision I made as captain in 1995 which I genuinely feel was instrumental in helping us win the opening match of the World Cup and set the tone for the rest of the campaign. Hopefully it will illustrate that a captain’s role does not start with the first whistle of a match and end with the last. There are so many things you need to consider, from team dynamics through to selection, strategy and game plans.
Our opening encounter was against Australia, favourites and undefeated in the twelve months leading up to the tournament. We knew if we beat them we would have a potentially easier route to negotiate through to the final. There are no easy ways to win a World Cup, but topping your pool helps as it allows you to play a team in the quarter-final who finished second in their group. All our preparation had been geared towards beating this Australian side, which featured a fantastic pack of forwards including Phil Kearns, John Eales and ‘Willie’ Ofahengaue to name just three. Most rugby matches, in particular Test matches, are won and lost up front. There’s an old saying in rugby, ‘Forwards win matches, backs just decide by how many.’ As a back-row forward I couldn’t agree more. We needed not only to take them on and match them up front, but to dominate them. No mean feat. We had several weeks’ training before the tournament and things were going okay, not great but okay. Something was missing, particularly amongst the tight five (front row and second row). With less than a week to go to the match I made a decision which a modern-day management team would probably not allow.
I arranged for two limousines to arrive at our hotel and take every squad member in the tight five out for the evening. This amounted to about ten or eleven players. Now, limousines in South Africa in the mid-nineties were hardly commonplace. In fact it proved extremely difficult to locate any as it soon became apparent pretty much all we had were ox wagons and normal cars. However, after countless phone calls I found what I was looking for and they both arrived at the appointed hour. I had earlier briefed the guys selected for the trip. I told them the limousines were at their disposal and what they did with them was of no concern to me or the management. In addition I spoke to our coach and we cancelled training the following day. All I asked of them was to return whenever they wanted with a plan to beat Australia.
To this day I have no idea where they went or what they did. They arrived back at the team hotel in the small hours and we met at 10.00 a.m. in the team room. Looking into their eyes it was obvious they had not spent the night in Annie’s Tea Room or indeed the local spa. We talked for no longer than five minutes, and as the room quickly filled with the stale fumes of a good night out, it was clear to me they had formed a ‘brotherhood’.
What you need to understand is that prior to 1995, during the apartheid regime, our ‘Test match’ arena was to play against each other (South Africa having been banned from the world of international rugby). So when Northern Transvaal guys played against Western Province, for instance, it was nothing short of warfare. There was no love lost whatsoever. This had been the case for more than a generation. As there was no national team to play for, we had little or no understanding of how to forge together as a unit. All we knew was how to beat each other up. So although we were about to represent South Africa in the World Cup, there was a degree of distrust, to a greater or lesser extent, between the players from the various provinces.
Through the fumes I could see a group of guys who were quite jovial, yet a little jaded, definitely focussed and most important of all, they sat there as friends. At the very next training session and for the rest of the tournament their contribution was immense. I’ve already used the word, but they had genuinely formed a brotherhood. It was as if there was nothing they wouldn’t do for each other and I like to think the decision to find the transport and give them a free hand for a few hours contributed to their transformation.
To exemplify this bond I recall our semi-final match in the driving rain against France in Durban. We had built a decent lead during the first fifty or so minutes and then froze slightly, attempting to protect our position. This allowed France to play some of the rugby they are renowned for and before long there were no more than a handful of points between the sides. I will always remember the giant French No
. 8 Abdelatif Benazzi almost scoring in the closing minutes. To be honest I thought he had succeeded but the referee, Derek Bevan, made the right decision as subsequent replays showed Benazzi’s arm separated the ball from the try line. At the ensuing five-metre scrum we were under huge pressure as the French put about a dozen players into their pack to try and secure a pushover try. The scrum broke up and just before it reformed I saw Kobus Wiese grab his second-row partner and say, ‘In this scrum you can go up, you can go down, but you are not going back.’ The scrum held firm and we made the final primarily due to the tight five who didn’t give an inch.
Finally, I’m often asked if I had any official role during the filming of the 2009 movie Invictus, the story of how Nelson Mandela joined forces with the South African rugby team in 1995 to help unite the country. The answer is no, I was not involved in an advisory capacity although I did get to meet several of the stars including Morgan Freeman (playing Nelson Mandela) and Matt Damon (playing me). I had a couple of very good nights with Matt, who at 5ft 10in and around 12st (75kg) was always going to find it difficult to play me at 6ft 3in and 17st (110kg), but as an award-winning actor he was used to overcoming such minor problems. Yet another factor which did not work in his favour was the simple fact he’s an extremely handsome man. The make-up department were going to have a major job making his face look like it had been set on fire and put out with a razor blade, which mine clearly now resembles after all the stitches I collected during a career in rugby.
During one night out whilst drinking red wine I mentioned to him that a couple of friends and I were going to climb Kilimanjaro and then compete in the Cape Argus Pick n Pay Tour, which is one of the largest sporting events in the world with in excess of 35,000 competitors racing around the Cape peninsula over a 110km course. Matt said he would love to join us on the climb but once we explained the timeframe it became clear that it would be impossible given his schedule commitments, but he said he would compete in the race (by this stage we’d had a glass or three). He phoned his brother in America who is a keen triathlete and asked him if he fancied taking part on a tandem. Within a couple of days his brother arrived and the two of them, together with me and a friend of mine, took part in the race aboard a couple of bicycles made for two. It’s testament to the spirit of Matt Damon that he undertook the challenge, especially when you consider he was not a cyclist, the weather conditions were the worst in living memory with severe gale-force winds, and all his people kept urging him not to compete, obviously fearing he might be blown off his bike and scarred (which I suppose might have helped his physical portrayal of me hugely). Anyway, we all finished the race unscathed. So it was as a result of the film that I had my brief encounter with American film royalty. It was fun to have a brief glimpse through that window, to witness the lives of global celebrities, but nothing will ever come close to the feeling I had in 1995 when Nelson Mandela presented me with the Webb Ellis Cup.
More Blood, Sweat and Beers Page 12