Best of RWC #16 - 2011 Final
RWC 2011 – The Final
Without question THE most intense sporting experience in my life. My goodness, what a ride.
History has a way of repeating itself. New Zealand v France in the Rugby World Cup Final. That was how the inaugural tournament culminated way way back in 1987.
Rugby was so simple then. The All Blacks turned up, won most of the time, and did it again the next year. There were series. Some more important than others, but (discounting the 70s) we won most of those. Rugby life breezed on year to year, test match to test match, tour to tour.
Then this thing called the World Cup was born. And hey we rocked up and won that too. Quite easily as it turned out. Cool, that will keep happening.
We thought.
But it didn’t.
We, shock horror, lost to Australia in the next tournament 4 years later. That can’t be right? Never mind, we’ll sort that out in 1995 … only to run into the juggernaut that was the birth and reconciliation of the Rainbow Nation.
And so it continued: 1999: France; 2003: Australia; 2007: France (and that history repeating thing again).
New Zealand’s disappointments gaining us the not always deserved label of chokers. Although not always fair it was a sure fire way for non-Kiwis to wind up their Antipodean counterparts. And more significantly the continued failure of the All Blacks built the legend of the World Cup.
“’We’?” I hear you ask? “Us”? “Our”?
Yes, “We”.
We’re all a part of the great beast that is New Zealand rugby. We’ve lived it, breathed it, been a part of it. Most of us have had an active role in it. Somewhere along the line we’ve played against someone whose brother’s cousin’s uncle’s nephew became an All Black. And taught them all they know. We’re part of the legacy. We live it. We’re part of the team. I’m sticking with “We”.
And that’s why we had done it so tough, waiting for this shot. Every game each four year cycle was the most important. Every match was a barometer of potential performance at the next World Cup. Performances must therefore be perfect. Being under par meant we would be ripe for the picking by Australia/South Africa/England/insert team here. Pressure grew. We demanded. And every four years the demands grew louder. We must win. And that was just us fans.
So it had been 24 years that we been waiting for a chance (we’d been thrashing everybody then we’d go and lose to France…) and finally we got our shot at redemption.
RWC had come back to New Zealand. And there were essentially two parts to the tournament. The one we all hosted for the world, the party we all enjoyed … and the one New Zealand had to win.
Part 1 had gone off brilliantly.
Best. Tournament. Ever.
Great rugby. Great weather. Great crowds. Great fun.
Part 2? Well … after 6 weeks, and four, no, twenty-four years shit was about to get real.
While we were waiting for the longest week of our sporting lives to roll around to 9pm on Sunday evening Australia played Wales in the play-off for third. Just like in 1987. Weird similarities abounding. Although this was at Eden Park on a Friday evening rather than a sunny Wednesday afternoon in RotoVegas (remembering night footy was a weird future innovation last century).
Unlike the classic the 1987 equivalent became, like most 3v4 games this one, despite being a reasonable game of footy, will most likely be forgotten. For the record Australia won 21-18.
Not a good sign for the superstitious types amongst us who noted the result in 1987 was reversed, and hoped it didn’t indicate a trend for the final.
And then it was here.
The haka was simply amazing. The most stirring rendition of Kapo o Pango was met with France’s arrowhead acceptance of the challenge sending out a challenge of their own and shivers down the spine. They had come to play.
The All Blacks started with a full strength team, with one obvious exception: first five-eighth.
The now legendary fly-half crisis had started on a Wellington training paddock a couple of weeks earlier when the world’s best 10 tore something in his groin. Losing Dan Carter – one of the two best players in the world … ever … was a major blow (having the other playing with a bone in his foot broken in three places was another disaster waiting to happen … but we didn’t know that then, and this bit is about the pivots).
Young Aaron Cruden was called in to deputise for Colin Slade, and called on to the field in the quarter-final against Argentina when Slade suffered the same injury as DC. AB fans were jittery but Cruden allayed those fears bossing the semi-final versus the Wallabies.
But more concerning was Cruden’s replacement Stephen Donald, who had not played for the All Blacks since 2010, and had been roundly criticised by the public following the loss to Australia in Hong Kong. When NZ’s stock of 10s started to deplete Donald was located on the banks of the Waikato River whitebaiting – not training for rugby – and rushed to Auckland to sit on the All Blacks bench.
Amazingly France had a debutant, in a World Cup Final! Half back Jean-Marc Doussain made his Test match debut in a World Cup Final coming off the bench late in the match.
A colossal arm wrestle throughout, this was a classic final. Though perhaps not a classic game of footy. Neither team was prepared to give an inch, so scoring opportunities were precious.
So it was concerning when Piri Weepu – so brilliant in the Quarter Final following the loss of Carter – seemed to have left his goal kicking boots in the changing shed. What we didn’t know was Weepu had tweaked a groin muscle in the warm-up affecting his performance. This match was going to hinge on little things, so leaving 5 points hanging in the ether was critical.
Piri however did have his kicking for territory boots on, smashing a touch-finding penalty from the middle of the field to within 10m of the line, to set up an attacking lineout on the 14 minute mark.
A brilliantly worked set piece – that when I look at it still fools me into thinking the ball was being thrown to 2 no matter how many times I’ve seen it – split the French defence and had prop Tony Woodcock scampering over for five and the coaching team slapping Shag Hansen on the back. The legendary Tea Bag was unveiled. Weepu couldn’t convert but the ABs took a 5-nil lead that they carried into the half-time break.
It was at 34 minutes that the latest episode of the fly-half curse struck. Cruden damaging his knee after getting monstered on a couple of occasions by the massive French backrow. It was time for Donald to step up for his own chance at redemption. And for the public to redeem themselves for vilifying him.
Four minutes after half-time Donald got his chance. France failed to roll away from a ruck and Beaver had a shot at goal from 35m in front of the posts. He nailed it (sneaking it past the inside of the right-hand post). 8-nil New Zealand.
And then came the moment that would turn this from a cake walk to a classic.
As the All Blacks worked up the field with box kicks the ball spilled out to Israel Dagg who scythed through the midfield. With the ultimate distributor Conrad Smith and the super efficient Richard Kahui in support in a classic three on two it looked to all the world like a try for the taking and a 15 point lead.
One would have thought.
But perhaps encouraged by his own success through the tournament Dagg elected to ignore the overlap and was tackled. The inevitable happened. The ball was won from the tackle but it came back sloppily. Weepu looking to maintain the momentum tried a speculator kick pass off the ground. The ball went loose and the French swooped.
They shifted it left then back to the midfield where skipper Thierry Dusautoir took a short ball from Rougerie through the gap and dotted beside the posts.
All of a sudden it was a one point ball game and ghosts of French knockout games past started to rattle around the Eden Park rafters and haunt the fragile New Zealand fans.
And the French seemed to sense something as well.
They lifted, and attacked and piled pressure on the New Zealanders. I’m starting to get nervous just writing about it.
Their set piece lifted. Their loose forward trio, the one unit in the world that could match the AB’s, were brilliant. Imanol Harinordoquy was everywhere (and in my opinion better than official man of the match Dusautoir). Fifteen minutes to go and the French scrum bullied the All Blacks for a penalty, but Francois Tranh-Duc’s attempt from 46 metres mercifully flew wide.
France had another fling at it, phase after phase starving the All Blacks of ball and so very nearly finding space down the left.
Having watched the replay numerous times the thing that stands out was just how disciplined the ABs were through that period. They refused to give away a penalty. They were scrupulous about staying onside, dropping back metres from the offside line to ensure no chance was given to the French goal kickers.
It was the great man himself, captain courageous, Richie McCaw who created the turnover opportunity for the All Blacks, cleaning out Mermoz straight into the French halfback who knocked it forward.
But something was wrong. An errant finger in the eye left McCaw prone at the resultant pile up.
The stadium of 4 million screamed at him, begged him to “get up! GET UUPP!” The greatest player to have graced a rugby field HAD to be there to guide the final three minutes.
He did of course. Helps if you are Superhuman.
So the All Blacks had the scrum and three minutes to kill. Three minutes of pick and go. Why isn’t that clock ticking faster?
A penalty. Yes! Oh – still a minute and a half. A bit far for a shot. Tap and go, then pick and go? Bang it to touch.
Andrew Hore’s most important lineout throw ever found Big Bad Brad Thorn soaring high to grab the most cheered lineout take in the history of the world and the maul was set, clawing forward, and then it wasn’t – it was on the ground.
And the clock ticked. It passed 80 minutes. But the ball was trapped in the pile of bodies. The ball was still alive and until we could kill it the game was too. Time was up as New Zealanders around the world chanted in unison:
“Kick it out …!”
“KICK IT OUT!”
“KICK THE F … AWW REF!”
White noise.
Szarzewksi had gambled and had a crack at the ball. He lost. He was premature.
The match, the Cup was won – Andy Ellis’ touch finder just confirming it.
The 24 year wait was over.
It was a joy and it was such a relief. A turning point in rugby. To quote my favourite piece of writing following the cup (by TSF poster Gorgeous Grogan) “I can watch rugby again and actually enjoy it”.
No longer must every game be a desperate battle to prove we can and will win the next World Cup that is still 2, 3, 4 years away because we had to redeem ourselves from the last one we “should” have won.
Those days may return if the unthinkable happens in October. But for now? Enjoy.
The team and management were heroes. So much better than the angst of preceding post Tournament fall outs. “Ted” Henry and the NZ Rugby Union who reappointed him were vindicated.
Rugby has been a pleasure since 2011 (it always has been – but now there is added freedom to enjoy the All Blacks’ awesomeness for what it is). And because of the win I could nearly entertain the thought that we may not win the next time.
Naaah … bugger that. Go Black.
my favourite World Cup, only because i took a month off and went to a heap of games. Then went back for the Final
Other than the rugby, the enduring memory is opening night, where we headed to the Auckland Waterfront for pre-game beers, and it was the simple matter of trying to get a train that made us think something was a bit different. Arriving at the waterfront to an absolute sea of people, no room to move, pubs packed. Insane. We ended up just going to Eden Park and having beers there.
Great tournament. Maybe only shaded by 2003?
I was living in Sydney at the time but was able to get permission to work from NZ for the month of the pool stages. Went to loads of games at Eden Park, Albany and Okara Park. It was a great atmosphere at every match I went to
I didn't even try to get tickets for the knockouts stages. I was at Cardiff in 2007 and thought fuck turning up to a knockout game again.. I just did the fun party section at the beginning
@mariner4life said in Best of RWC 2011:
my favourite World Cup, only because i took a month off and went to a heap of games. Then went back for the Final
Same, although I was just working in between games and travelling. Oddly enough I couldn't get tickets for a match in Hawkes Bay but went to all the ABs and a fair few other games around the country.
I was trying to get into the city on opening night and the packed trains and buses just kept shooting by, but there was barely any traffic so it was easy just to taxi there and then back up for the game.
Some of the pool games I went to in Rotorua and New Plymouth were just as much fun as the playoff games at Eden Park. Sitting on the embankment in the sun at Rotorua was much more enjoyable than a night game there.
I do remember driving down Sandringham Rd on the afternoon of the opening game and seeing Tongan flags everywhere.
Epic tournament.
Went to 13 games; meant to be 14, but NZZPJr arrived on the night of the 3/4 playoff. Party atmosphere, the day the tourney kicked off was glorious, downtown was going off, the fanzone was full and closed 4-5 hours before kickoff, was like the last day of the school year.
Luckily we drove to Eden Park ... trains didn't work 
The fan mile was an unexpected success. Boozing and bantering up to the ground; bumped into Stephen Moore's parents as we walked to the SF against Australia! They were happier before the game than after it.
EP was amazing. The temp stands at each end created an incredible bowl-like atmosphere. Still an incredible tournament, and the party through the group stages was non-stop.
Biggest gripe for me was the schedulign didn't line up for a roadie. Would have been great to spend 4-5 days doing consecutive games in Wellington, New Plym, across to Hawke's Bay, Hamilton and then Auckland. Ah well.
Loved it as a tournament, and loved the Richie finally got Bill.
2011 - Two memories.
-
Biting our leather sofa. I was thinking "Not again, and not against France..." We replaced the sofa last year, and yes, the bite marks were still visible...
-
Beaver coming on with a shirt 3 sizes too small and, when the ABs got a penalty, walking up and saying "Just give me the fucking ball". He was one of the most composed players on the field that day and utterly nerveless. Bless him.
I don't know if it showed on TV, but some time into the second half the cops came out and ringed the field. I thought "oh crap they think we're going to lose so they're preparing to repel a crowd invasion". Also how quiet was the crowd about half way through the second half? Around us it went eerily quiet as people thought here we go again
Was on a weekend away in N Wales with the missus on the day of the SF against France
We woke at 5:30, left at 6
Got to our house in Cardiff at 9
Was in the stadium watching it on the big screen at 9:20
Had flights to NZ on hold
Then Roland fucked it for us
Should still have beaten the Frogs despite the RC
Got back in the car and we were back in N Wales for afternoon tea
So close
@Bovidae said in Best of RWC 2011:
I do remember driving down Sandringham Rd on the afternoon of the opening game and seeing Tongan flags everywhere.
Yep. I recall walking to the stadium for the opening ceremony and my wife remarking on how many there were. Atmosphere was outstanding.
Went out the next day to see France and Japan play at North Harbour. Down to Waikato to see ABs vs Japan. Took father across to see the game against France and then wife again for the last pool game in Wellington.
The final I couldn't get tickets for, but was a nervous wreck for the second half. The joy and relief was immense.
I had organised a great pub off Grey's Inn for the morning, we had about 30 kiwis in there. South African pub manager, and he had Adnams NZ Hop Ales, plus czech lagers, and a solid breakfast.
Come the second half kickoff, a couple of guys retired to the bathroom with irritable bowel syndrome, very much provoked by stress.
With 20 minutes to go, a French family wandered in to watch, as the tension grew they fled - we were not given to violence, but there was real pressure circulating.
The win, the shock, the relief, maybe cortisol and blood glucose levels. I collapsed - we had won, we were on top of the world, everyone else could go and get fucked, 2007 erased!
@Victor-Meldrew said in Best of RWC 2011:
Mrs Meldrew has never known me to be so tense, stressed and out there. As a psychologist she was starting to worry about me...
Went thru almost a full bottle of single malt IIRC.
The day after the win was like the scene from Fever pitch. The win took me to a place of contentment that lasted for years, 24 years of heartbreak lifted when GOAT picked up that little golden trophy
@Tim said in Best of RWC 2011:
I had organised a great pub off Grey's Inn for the morning, we had about 30 kiwis in there. South African pub manager, and he had Adnams NZ Hop Ales, plus czech lagers, and a solid breakfast.
Come the second half kickoff, a couple of guys retired to the bathroom with irritable bowel syndrome, very much provoked by stress.
With 20 minutes to go, a French family wandered in to watch, as the tension grew they fled - we were not given to violence, but there was real pressure circulating.
The win, the shock, the relief, maybe cortisol and blood glucose levels. I collapsed - we had won, we were on top of the world, everyone else could go and get fucked, 2007 erased!
We were in Dublin at the time. Pub was full of kiwis…and then a drunk obnoxious Pom who came in with amount 10 minutes to go and wouldn’t shut up “you’re going to choke”. Which is what we were all secretly afraid of. Such relief at the final whistle.
(Then the Irish being Irish started the whole France woz robbed by Joubert routine.)
@canefan said in Best of RWC 2011:
@Victor-Meldrew said in Best of RWC 2011:
Mrs Meldrew has never known me to be so tense, stressed and out there. As a psychologist she was starting to worry about me...
Went thru almost a full bottle of single malt IIRC.
The day after the win was like the scene from Fever pitch. The win took me to a place of contentment that lasted for years, 24 years of heartbreak lifted when GOAT picked up that little golden trophy
I had a London based challenger bank as a client at the time. Nice people. The COO - an Irish lady - made a point of coming over and congratulating me. Classy touch
Georgia were based in the 'rapa for a week, and the support they got was immense. All the kids had free Wairarapa loves Georgia t shirts, there was a huge parade when the team arrived. They were gobsmacked, the Georgians couldn't believe it.
I went to all the Wellington pool games, Tonga beating France was amazing, the atmosphere at SA Fiji was great- then rushing to the pub then catch the Irish beating Oz. I learnt land of my fathers to sing when Wales played SA, and was right behind the posts for the penalty that never was, it fucking sent over, disgusting call.
But the final was awful, just awful
@Victor-Meldrew said in Best of RWC 2011:
@canefan said in Best of RWC 2011:
@Victor-Meldrew said in Best of RWC 2011:
Mrs Meldrew has never known me to be so tense, stressed and out there. As a psychologist she was starting to worry about me...
Went thru almost a full bottle of single malt IIRC.
The day after the win was like the scene from Fever pitch. The win took me to a place of contentment that lasted for years, 24 years of heartbreak lifted when GOAT picked up that little golden trophy
I had a London based challenger bank as a client at the time. Nice people. The COO - an Irish lady - made a point of coming over and congratulating me. Classy touch
I shook the hand of an old French guy after the final. He had a tear in his eye but it was a classy thing for him to do.
@Machpants said in Best of RWC 2011:
Georgia were based in the 'rapa for a week, and the support they got was immense. All the kids had free Wairarapa loves Georgia t shirts, there was a huge parade when the team arrived. They were gobsmacked, the Georgians couldn't believe it.
To think there was a lot of shit in the mainstream UK media about how RWC2011 would be shit as NZ rugby fans were so biased, insular and arrogant that stadiums would be empty if the ABs weren't playing.
Watching from afar, one of the great memories was the groups of spectators wearing different coloured buckets supporting the smaller teams
2011 was absolutely manic for me. Fluctuated between being confident about finally getting the monkey off our back to going for long runs to alleviate the stress of simply contemplating another 4 years of hurt.
There was however one weird, totally random sign that told me that this might finally be it. A couple of weeks before the final, the wife and I stayed at this nice spa hotel in Eastern Norway. I turned on the TV that evening and, remember this is bloody Norway, the Footrot Flats movie was on. Absurdly random. I felt that had to be a sign. Love that film btw.
My "enduring" memory is my wife and then 6 year old eldest son watching in shocked silence while I carried on like a demented idiot during the Argentina game.
Anyway, the wife was planning a weekend away with some friends and being such a lovely soul she said should could wait until after the final so that she could look after the kids while I lost my mind watching rugby. I told her not to and to keep to her plans. Murphy's law dictates that if she stayed home then we probably would lose to Aus and not even make the final. Yeah I was looking at every superstitious farking Voodoo doll advantage I could get.
So of course we made it and I had to watch the final while babysitting my youngest (then 2). Thankfully he was mostly behaved but I scared the poor bugger when yelling at the TV. Those last minutes were agony. At the final whistle I just slumped down to my knees in relief. To celebrate I took the lad to MacDonalds where I guarantee not a single person within a 50km radius even knew the game had been on. I remember picking up a newspaper that had nothing in it but shit about soccer and Ronaldo. Massive party for me!
@Catogrande said in Best of RWC 2011:
The only thing I take with any Nationalistic pride from that tournament was Manu Tuilagi getting the Auckland Ferry high diving gold.
Dwarf throwing champs?
Me and the wife took in all the AB's pool games as our big hurrah before we settled down and had kids. I didn't have the confidence to book any tickets for the knock out games though (if only for 20/20 hindsight).
Remember it being an incredible event, everyone was in such good spirts, so friendly, you'd just sit and chat with random people prior to kick off and buy each other drinks. The foreign fans offered so much color and joy - it was an atmosphere I'd never see and maybe never will see in NZ again.
Missus was ever so social so we'd befriend people at games then catch up with them at the other pool games across the country for drinks before the game, just total strangers ya know, just bought together by rugby and having a good time.
The most pleasing aspect of the pool games was how easy it was to get booze at the venues, mind you that may have been abetted by my wife being more than happy to go off to the concierge and make new friends with people while I sat in the stands with a constant supply of beer (and new friends to talk to) being delivered.
The final however was the most stressful event ever, was hoping that Donald would come on as Weepu couldn't hit a barn door with his kicking.
When we won I ran around outside the house spraying a bottle of champagne in the air, truly the best of times.
Was based in London for this WC... but decided I'd hop across to France to watch the Final. Caught the train over to... can't remember - not Paris, a relatively small town... but with a train station for the Eurostar?
Went over, started to panic when I thought I might not find a place open early in the morning to watch it... but found a likely venue.
Turned up early in the morning at this bar, they had a free breakfast spread on, welcomed me in.
We all watched it together - me getting really rather drunk sitting at the bar nervously chopping beer after beer. The locals started enjoying just watching my reaction more than the game I think... and at full-time - they all congratulated me, plenty of hands shaken and pats on the back.
I wandered off in a daze, plenty of locals seeing my All Blacks jersey and congraatulating me... had some lunch, fucked up the timing for my return train - running drunkenly through an international train station - the local gendarme/border-control saw the jersey, congratulated me, asked me which train I was on - the one leaving in about 5 minutes - and ran me through the staff corridors, completely bypassing customs/border-control/etc - to get me onto the train with about 30 seconds to spare.
Pure class - on their part, if not mine.
@Catogrande Yeah - I was looking at the map earlier. trying to figure it out... even Lille seems too big for what I remember.
It had a lovely wee plaza/town-square.
@Kruse call me a romantic, but I love every part of this story, apart from the part where the ABs won the World Cup.
@booboo said in Best of RWC 2011:
Y'know, I'd still struggle with nerves watching that.
I still haven't ever watched it on TV! No motivation to either
Watching the Final just now brought back a lot of memories. We didn't go to a single game, but what a great time we had! Second best experience of a sports event I've ever had, both watching the games in a mate's beer-filled man cave with a group of friends and the whole atmosphere in NZ during the tournament and after the Final.