Alfie's reply

My lasting impression of the final will be the sight of Victor Matfield. Soaring to deny England a decent supply of line out ball (arguably, the reason why they never looked like a team that was going to get a stranglehold on the game), making a remarkable cover tackle on Tait (where did he come from ?), or pinning England back in to their 22 with a deft kick ahead late in the game. The man was everywhere.
South Africa won it all because they had specialists who could do it all. Proper stuff it up the jumper forwards who could also handle the ball, backs who could attack from deep at turnovers, but were happy to do the donkey work by making the hard yards when the game demanded it.
The adaptability was key. They attacked with the best, but when it got ugly, they had the grind and kick game to out grind and out kick England.
The competetion exposed those teams who couldn't adapt. Of the favourites, the Kiwis will know that their defeat was a case of "any given Sunday", and the sour grapes brigade will point an accusing finger at Wayne Barnes, but allowing for their lack of serious match practice leading up to that epic game in Cardiff, they failed to adapt to what Laporte's men threw at them. Likewise, the Australians allowed the game to be dictated by Sheridan et al. The wily Loffreda had got the Pumas kicking endlessly, in an effort to break down defenses. It got them so far. The French were too careful, and tried to out kick Jonny. England couldn't adapt anyway - they had decided on one tack.
And the poor Welsh, who could razzle and dazzle, who could fill a stadium with neutrals and play it like purists, forgot to read the bottom line.
No glory without the grunt.

So what's it all about (Alfie) ?

The Final

England 6 - South Africa 15

So it was all about this ?

Another fraught French evening, players fearful of getting caught in possession, or throwing the game breaking interception pass. And we were back to that kicking game, so beloved of Laporte's hapless warriors last weekend. In reality, it made for a poor game. The Kiwis who had hung on to their tickets so grimly, so determined to see out the last of this World Cup even though Carter and Co had long returned to the Land of the Long White Cloud, were rewarded with, well, a grim game. A great deal of blood and thunder at the breakdown, crunching defense, a display of macho sufficient to make Jean Claude Van Damme beat a hasty retreat and... kicking. High kicks, spirals to corners, deep drop outs from 22's, end over end punts, grubbers, up and unders ("cathedrales", I believe they're called in France). A veritable feast of, well, kicking.

The England team tried to out Bok the Bokke. Having been crushed 36-0 a month ago playing a clunking neither here nor there kind of game, Ashton and his merry men decided to follow the formula of the past two matches. Get territory deep, then see if Jonny's boot could engineer a lead that they could defend. Limited, but they could have won it, if Cueto had been wearing boots a size smaller.

How the fluent attacking talents sitting at home in Canterbury and Sydney would have squirmed to see the showpiece final played in such a dour manner.

But, hey, they were watching it, not playing it.

Swing Low, kick high...

Saturday, 13th October

France 9 - England 14

What this World Cup has done for the form book ain't pretty. Sage rugby men are reduced to pinning the tail on donkeys.
Another surreal match.
The softest of soft tries to begin, and Lewsey was so grateful he ruffled the hair of the distraught French tackler as if to say "I say, that was jolly decent of you..."
Then the French got going, rumbling menacingly in the forwards, the ball flickering across the back line. Obviously the conservative Laporte got a message on to the pitch, because the French started to kick the ball to death. Take that, Monsieur Gilbert Synergie.
They lost Pelous, which meant that Chabal, Captain Caveman himself, was denied the chance to be thrown on as a game breaker. Then - the master stroke from that smooth cranium of Laporte. Let's put Freddie Michalak on - BUT TELL HIM TO KEEP KICKING THE STUFFING OUT OF THE BALL...
So Robinson kept skipping back in to the French half, Jonny picked up some points, and Les Bleues somehow lost the game of their careers.
England, dear old one paced, one dimensional, stuff it up the jumper England had stormed their own personal Bastille.

Heading into the semis are...WHO ???

Teams keep paying the price for underestimating their opponents - perhaps the TriNations "you score 2 and we'll score 3" mentality, perhaps players and coaches guilty of looking one or two games ahead. Wales, Australia and NZ all fell short in this way. In all three games, their respective forwards were ultimately outmuscled and their coaching teams out thought.

Wales 34- Fiji 38

Nantes, 28th September 2007

Well, at least I can say I was there...
A few days down the line, I still find it hard to describe what that was like.
We spent most of the game out of our seats, and stood to cheer Fiji's lap of honour as well as the shattered remnants of Wales' finest as they crawled round at the end of what was an astonishing game of rugby.
Wales lost the game about ten minutes before the kick off.
Two crystal clear illustrations of how and why - the Welsh playing some extravagant touch rugby to warm up, the Fijians running disciplined grids, putting the spare man over in the corner. Oh God, I thought, they're going to take them on at 7 a side.
And lo and behold, Wales spurn two chances to put a spare man over in the corner in the first 5 minutes.
Ultimately, the Fijians were more pragmatic. They were willing to pick and drive, to take the Welsh forwards on, then take them on again. The Welsh were unwilling or unable to subdue them at the point of contact. As the game wore on, the Fijians recycled the ball at greater speed, so the Welsh were unable to make it count in the scrum, where they were clearly superior.
But all this sounds too technical, too dry.
I was there, and it was bloody brilliant stuff.