'Flaky Fred' and 'Shaky Spencer' fall apart

Tuesday November 18 2003

The Sunday Times' Stephen Jones looks back at the weekend's Rugby World Cup semi-finals - a tale of real rugby, he says, and a tale of rugby gone wrong.

Here is a tale of two number 10s - and also of two cultures. A tale of real rugby and rugby gone wrong. It is a tale of Jonny Wilkinson and Carlos Spencer and it explains why New Zealand will be playing in the joke Final on Thursday before departing for home, and why England will be playing in the real thing.

It also explains, in large part, why, by the time of the 2007 Rugby World Cup in France, New Zealand will have won the Webb Ellis Trophy a none-magnificent once in 20 years. Frankly, they are unlikely to win it in France either.

Last weekend, the going got tough for these two fly-halves. Wilkinson had been under ferocious pressure from the occasion and the media and his own massive expectations after a reasonably quiet tournament so far. He stepped up to the plate against France, held it together in filthy weather, kicked his goals beautifully despite the rain and the swirling wind. He tackled thunderously.

When the going got tough for Spencer, Spencer got going - sideways, backwards, or anywhere where he could safely disappear from the action. During the second half of the Australia-New Zealand semi-final, in a rare interlude when the New Zealand forwards, staggeringly, had actually been able to win the ball, New Zealand launched a move that went through many phases.

One of the TV commentators almost shrieked out: "Where's Carlos, where's Carlos?" The answer was that Carlos was way out wide towards the outside centre position, and instead of stepping in as first receiver to take responsibility, he had decided to become about ninth or tenth receiver.

Granted, most of the top teams here have been desperate to target Spencer and also Frédéric Michalak ever since they arrived and both expectations were borne out since both Spencer and Michalak collapsed under pressure when the time came. 'Flaky Fred' and 'Shaky Spencer'. The coaches had it right all along.

And for Carlos Spencer at this World Cup, read the whole expectation of New Zealand, read the whole overblown dream. You can accuse me of many things, but never of being wise after the event. It is around eight years since I first warned that New Zealand were basing their whole rugby ethos on a platform of quicksand - that because of their sudden ignorance of the first principles of the game and because of the early frippery that was the Super 12 they had apparently decided that you no longer needed a real forward platform and a real forward crunch.

And don't blame John Mitchell. The squad he brought to this tournament were simply children of the era, children of the idiots who have been in charge of New Zealand rugby and the Super 12 for the last eight years - including the nitwit referees and coaches and marketing men who all got together and decided that the only real entertainment was a sickly succession of tries and the only measure of a match's greatness was the length of time the ball was in play.

The ball was in play a long time in New Zealand's early World Cup matches. It was in play a long time, chiefly because New Zealand's pool opponents fielded weakened sides and suddenly, given room to move, players such as Doug Howlett, Joe Rokocoko and Mils Muliaina looked world-beaters. As the tournament went on, more and more Kiwis out here, especially ex-players spouting in the media, bought into the crude fallacy that all this had anything to do with playing real rugby in the knockout stages of the World Cup.

And sure enough, the ball was in play for a long time in the semi-final too - in play in Australian hands. The chickens came home to roost. Australia do not have a particularly devastating pack, but their efficiency in the scrum and line-out and their harsh competitiveness in physical contact absolutely stuffed the New Zealand pack, who are not used to such matters as confrontation and contesting possession.

The likes of Dave Hewett, Greg Somerville, Ali Williams, Reuben Thorne and especially the supremely-limited Jerry Collins, were brutally exposed. So was Carlos Spencer, the magician who made himself disappear in a puff of smoke. Wilkinson's England may, or may not take the tournament this weekend. It is a close call, although the fact that England have not quite hit their straps does indicate that this rejuvenated Australian team, are far better outfit than when they themselves were buying in to the Super 12 myth some years ago, may be favourites.

Fair enough. But if England lose, then they will have given it a major shot. And the reason for their defeat, should they lose will be nothing concerning a total failure to understand the modern game, and nothing concerning an abject betrayal of historical principles. New Zealand rugby stands accused on both those fronts.