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I’m a proud Australian.
I stand when I sing the national anthem, I love the Wallabies, the Kangaroos, the Socceroos, the Boomers and the Hockeyroos and I go to the beach on Australia Day. I trek into Martin Place at 4am for the dawn service on Anzac Day, and I sleep on the floor for a couple of hours in the sun after Christmas dinner.
So you can understand how these next few words are going to catch in my throat. How my tongue feels like a dry potato stuck to the roof of my mouth, and why my eyes cross slightly as I force the sentence out, but here goes….
“I really admire the English”.
Cue roar of angry mob….”WHAT???”. OK, whoa back, and in between piling sandbags against the door and unplugging the phone, I’ll explain what the hell I’m talking about.
In Australia, (contrary to what some ill-informed posters on this site would have you believe) we have brilliant sportspeople from just about any sport there is. Per head of population we’re one of the most successful sporting nations in the world, and we have had world champions at rugby, rugby league, swimming, athletics, surfing, diving, archery, clay pigeon shooting, boxing, weightlifting, speed skating and about a dozen other sports I’ve neglected to name. Even in the sports where we’re comparitive minnows like soccer, we’ve got some of the best players in the world, like Kewell and Viduka. We’re pretty good – and that’s not blowing our trumpet, it is just stating the historical facts.
Unfortunately though, at least in rugby circles, we’ve lost that Anzac toughness which over the years has defined Aussie sportsmen and women across the board. The desire that made Herb Elliot punish himself alone on the sandhills at Portsea. The spirit that kept Jeff Harding forging forward on the way to his upset title win against Dennis Andries. The mental toughness that had Steve Waugh hooking Curtly Ambrose to the boundary in Barbados en route to a memorable ton. The impenetrable focus of Cathy Freeman in winning 400m gold in Sydney.
Whatever the sport, and whatever the event, you could rely on an Aussie to front up, to stand their ground and to give as good as they got. The old cliche, “They didn’t beat us, they just scored more points” was always applicable, and you could usually leave the stadium content that even if we lost, we would have had a red hot go.
So what’s this all got to do with the Poms? Well, by some miracle of sporting osmosis, I’m suddenly seeing all of those qualities that I used to admire in my beloved Wallabies, transposed (God forbid)to the English! Seriously. They don’t have the best team in the tournament. There’s no doubt that they would admit their limitations in pace and skill, and in a quiet moment, I’m sure they would also admit that their rugby isn’t all that attractive.
But what is attractive is their willingness to use what they have to best effect, and to die for the cause. After their initial 36-0 flogging by South Africa, the Red Roses (since when have they been called that anyway, and why the obsession with naming teams after something? But I digress…) could have been forgiven for rolling over and saying “Righto luds – lets joost give it our best for the rest of the Coop eh?”. But did they? No way. They huddled together, hung in and battled out some ugly, close, flawed wins, while the showponies were flaring briefly in pretty losses.
Why do I care so much that the English beat us? Because they’ve stolen all the reasons I used to have to gloat over them. They used to be slow, polite and soft – now we are. And they have truly assumed the British bulldog mentality which they used to claim, but invariably failed to live up to. Sure their rugby is ugly, but it’s filled with pride, with stubborness and with an iron will to win – against which some of the more fancied sides have bent and broken.
I don’t applaud English rugby for a moment. It is one-dimensional and boring to watch. I prefer seeing tries scored – and that’s not a judgement from on high, it’s simply a personal preference.
But I admire the way that a team who was completely written off, has simply refused to lose. The pride in each other, the spirit of endeavour they have – which we used to applaud in our very own Wallabies, and which unfortunately seems to have gone missing.
I’ll be cheering for South Africa this weekend, because somewhere deep down in my DNA, it is imprinted that I never cheer for England. But should the Poms win, I will quietly applaud the spirit shown by their team. A team who was often outclassed, a team who made the best of a limited set of gifts, a team who had a largely ordinary set of aged players and a poor old coach….and yet, a team who, when it has mattered, have simply refused to lose.