No matter how you view the loss to Scotland on Tuesday night, it was bad. It was bad for any number of reasons.
High on the list was the fact that it all but mirrored the loss in Edinburgh in 2009, although the weather in Edinburgh was decidedly better. The handling was bad. The tactics were probably bad. The execution was definitely bad. The scheduling was outrageously bad.
Worst of all, this Australian team lacked passion.
No want, no desire and no fire in the belly. While the Scots marched around the field as if facing an English army at Falkirk, Australia seemed sedated. The Scots were ready for a rugby war. The Wallabies weren’t even ready for Gordon Ramsey.
It all started pre-game. Barely a Scot blinked while the wind lashed their faces as Flower of Scotland boomed out. The Wallabies collectively looked like commuters on a Monday morning.
The men in gold lacked emotion, cohesion and purpose as they stood lined for a bleak, wet and dour battle. Strangely those same traits flowed from the anthems to the game. The weather was not the reason Australia lost this game. A lack of passion was the main contributor. Who wanted it more was always going to come into play at six-all with minutes to go.
In my opinion the issue is a throwback to the Jones / Gregan days when the ‘P’ word was treated with disdain. Rugby became all about statistics and straight bat answers to unimaginative questions from journalists. Anyone remember an Eddie Jones news conference?
“Eddie how should we go about beating the All Blacks?”
“Well, 20 percent of third phase ball goes through the ten twelve channel and the side that makes 93.2% of its tackles in that channel will be well placed to come out on top.”
Fair enough the professional game has evolved. We all know controlled aggression is key. Teams must play smart. But where is the fire burning inside the Wallabies? I don’t want to single individuals out but to be honest some deserve it. Passion definitely isn’t about Scott Higginbotham prancing around the field carrying suitcases like a hairy ape. It’s not about Mike Harris having a grandmother born in Australia. It definitely isn’t about JOC’s image rights.
Before you all point it out, I know James O’Connor didn’t play on Tuesday night. I know he is suffering from a lacerated liver caused by a collision. Unlike the author’s lacerated liver JOC’s injury happened on the rugby field and not at the boozer after a second string club game.
But what I will say is that playing club rugby there is seldom an occasion when mates don’t leave it all out on the field on a Saturday afternoon suburban pitch. The stakes are comparatively low, no suburban players are realising their boyhood dreams or peaking after years of dedication to fitness. But not a backward step is taken while playing for your mates.
Certainly if anyone shirks your mates remind you. Theirs is a collective accountability and leadership. A collective passion to play for each other and your club.
I never thought I’d say it, but maybe Tommy Raudonikis needs to be left alone with the likes of James Slipper, Rob Simmons and Scott Higginbotham pre-game? Do they need a few slaps to be reminded who they are playing for and to bring tears of determination to their eyes? They certainly shouldn’t need reminding. The Scots didn’t. And the Welsh won’t.
Join The Roar rugby editor Christy Doran, former Wallaby Matt Toomua and a cast of regular and special guests as they look at the biggest issues in the game on The Roar Rugby Podcast. If you’re looking for great odds on the next game check out Aussie bookmaker PlayUp. Chances are you’re about to lose. Set a deposit limit.
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