Black hole doubts that gnaw away at rugby supporters

I have just come back from a short break in Avila. Although it is Spain’s highest provincial capital, it was still not much of a respite from the oppressive heat afflicting much of the country and, indeed, Europe.

Driving back with the air con on full blast was not enough to prevent my mind from wandering. The baby was sleeping so no distracting music. The traffic was light so no need to tax my brain with relatively complex tasks.

It is a disturbing realisation when driving a car on a motorway that your mind hasn’t been operating at full capacity. Like the cruise control function, you shut down to just the basic requirements. But when you come to, you invariably ask yourself the question: was I fully present in those last 50 kilometres?

These black holes of recollection are unsettling as they plague our minds with doubts and insecurities. Harking back to my wilder, youthful days, I often asked myself the question the following day after a night out on the town, how and when did I get home last night? And what was that traffic cone doing in the bathroom?

There are moments in your life that you play back in your mind and no easy answers appear. They’re like imagining the person who came up with the packaging you’re struggling to open and wondering did this person really think this was easy to open? Or am I being toyed with by a vindictive personality? Either way, it spells bad news for you.

The Rugby World Cup is very much like this. Past experiences still haunt us and we’re not quite sure where it all went wrong. There is a vague recollection of what occurred but denial or singling out of players or referees or attributing external events to your team’s demise seem so much easier than taking ownership for what really happened.

Personally, I have vague grainy images in my mind of Olivier Magne and Christophe Dominici wreaking havoc, missed drop goal attempts from Andrew Merthens, an intercept by Stirling Mortlock from a Carlos Spencer pass and a seemingly eternal period of play where the worst opportunity to take a drop goal was all we could muster.

However, you have to acknowledge your opponent and tip your hat to a team that absorbed your own team’s pressure and exerted their own. There really isn’t such a thing as an undeserving winner. Perhaps from a fan’s perspective, but they too exist on the losing side. They just get a different name: from a gloater to a sore loser.

There’s no harm in saying, though, that we all bring our personal baggage when it comes to World Cups. Pocock sounds fairly innocuous enough – a lame peacock springs to mind – but it sounds more terrifying to a South African supporter than anything that roams on the savannah looking for a fleshy bite or two. Wayne Barnes and a night game against France sound inviting to quite a few teams but the prospect sends New Zealand supporters rushing to the toilet.

Like all good supporters, we get behind our teams but we are still troubled by events that are beyond our control. More so when we don’t remember too well what went wrong. I’ve never seen the film Invictus, I’ve never watched a single World Cup defeat. I’m at peace knowing we were beaten by a better team on the day but I don’t dwell on those failures. We don’t willingly recall horrific dates that we’ve been on for the same reason.

I don’t have a problem with people who talk a big game or those who jump on people who dismiss their own team. Pride in your team can take many forms, just as the game of rugby itself, and sometimes we get too caught up in our own emotions reacting to what other people say.

After all, a good supporter has unconditional faith in their side even though they might well have many reservations. As defending champions and with only two losses and a draw as blemishes since that victory in 2011, there is much cause for optimism as a New Zealand supporter.

Unconditional faith does not equate to blind faith. There is realism as well as vague memories of previous roadblocks. The signs are there already without a single Rugby Championship having been played yet.

Take the Super Rugby final and the recent test against Manu Samoa. As a New Zealand supporter, these are two sides of the proverbial World Cup coin. One side suits New Zealand’s game and the other brings the opposition more into the contest.

Heads is when both sides enter into the spirit of a frenetic free-for-all. It may seem haphazard but it is coldly calculated to suit New Zealand’s accurate application of playing with space. Running at players who have less time to react to what is happening in front of them brings basic skills to the fore. When the defensive line is up quickly in the face of an attack, skills become more high risk.

Look at what Ireland did in the Six Nations, eliminating high risk from their game. They may not have scored many tries but they didn’t concede them either. Not all teams have that discipline or mindset to play that type of game. You do what works best for you.

However, the opposition is acutely aware of what works best for you. This is why the prospect of tails keeps me up at night. When New Zealand are able to score quickly and freely, they can inflict psychological damage on their opponents. The French team of 1999 were exceptions to the rule, but once in front, New Zealand are hard to stop. They do not need much in the way of possession to achieve this scoreboard pressure. They just need the right opportunities.

When these opportunities do not present themselves easily and points are much harder to come by, even the best of teams can be made to look ordinary. Often the best way of achieving this is to employ a rush defence and cut off the supply of oxygen in the centres and render the extremities lifeless. Like a giant python, teams can rush up and wrap themselves around the ball and render players like Julian Savea lifeless.

The breakdown is another way where teams can slow down or steal ball. Interpretations can differ and when teams do not commit players to the breakdown, psychologically that can appear to be conceding defeat at the breakdown. Sealing off rucks, the round-the-ruck kick that looks like a person in desperation trying to set off those motion detector taps in public bathrooms, are less likely to be pinged when then are few players surrounding the ball.

Naturally, what one set of fans speak out against differs depending on previous events that have shaped those concerns. We also like to call out specific moments in previous games. We have crystal-clear memories of Wayne Barnes letting France away with murder or Craig Joubert allowing an illegal free-for-all.

Bryce Lawrence seemed to hand out ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ cards to David Pocock even though he kept on rolling three doubles in a row. Mark Cueto’s foot was off the ground when he dove into the corner and that would’ve changed the game.

This interpretation of events is natural. We are rooting for our teams so when things don’t go our way, it’s only human to seek blame elsewhere. The ‘we were robbed’ mentality sits a lot easier than the ‘we stuffed that up royally’ admission. Still even harder is ‘how good did that team play against us’ appraisal.

Furthermore, try to get people to recall other specific moments in the game and this is where the heads bow down and incoherent rumblings take over from heated shouting. We lock onto seemingly key moments in a game but our overall recollection of the game is vague at best.

Therein lies the beauty of the World Cup. It happens insufficiently frequently to recall matches with great detail. The slate is, therefore, clean for all teams. We all have a shot at the title but we all have our vague mental demons dancing around in our heads that undermine our confidence.

The uncertainty of the events about to unfold in September and October only serve to keep us simultaneously both on edge and cock-a-hoop. The unknown is the appeal of sport. We like to think we’re in control of our destiny but, much like our past, we can’t speak with any degree of certainty on the matter.