Love rugby league but hate England? Then seeing them lift World Cup trophy will be a win

One of my all-time favourite rugby league memories is the 1995 World Cup final.

I slept on the floor in my brother’s room, we woke up in the early hours and watched the game on our tiny box of a TV with the volume down so as not to wake our younger siblings, bunny ears providing static-filled pictures transmitted to us from the other side of the world.

The Kangaroos beat England 16-8, with Andrew Johns man of the match, so the whole thing was a big win for a couple of young Knights supporters.

But there was also something special about beating the English.

They had pipped the Aussies in the pool matches and had a gun side, featuring the likes of Jason Robinson, Martin Offiah, Denis Betts and Andy Farrell, so there was value in the win based purely on the quality of opposition.

But I also knew – I suspect simply innately, as most young Australians do – that beating England matters.

Always has, always will.

However, while beating the English never gets old (just ask the French, those two have been at it for millennia), it means more if you’re getting one back on them, rather than just belting them for the millionth time.

The classic example is, of course, the 2005 Ashes, which England claimed in spectacular fashion, ending an Australian dominance of cricket’s greatest rivalry that had dated back unbroken since the 1980s.

Andrew Flintoff (right) of England consoles Brett Lee (Photo by Tom Jenkins/Getty Images).

A heartbreaking loss for us though it was, and though Australia trounced the English 5-0 a little over a year later, it breathed new life into a concept that was growing stale.

Like international rugby league.

There is no question that the emergence of Tonga as a legitimate player on the global stage is fantastic and it was somewhat devastating that Samoa were shown up in their very first game as pretenders at this tournament, such had been the hopes for what is a stacked side.

But perhaps we should focus on the positives of England being so dominant against a team that plenty of decent judges had as dark horses to lift the Paul Barrière Trophy, smashing the Samoans 60-6.

It was a statement game from the hosts, putting to rest any concerns that they would struggle to make the knockout stages of the World Cup. Not for nothing, it also came on the heels of a warm-up match in which they dismantled Fiji 50-0.

England are here to play, is the takeaway.

And England re-establishing themselves on the world stage is the key, in the short term at least, to making international rugby league great again.

Because while they may not be household names here in Australia, the English boast quality across the park, and a depth of talent of which Tonga, Samoa and Papua New Guinea can only dream.

Martin Taupau leads the Samoan team’s war dance. (Photo by Mark Kolbe/Getty Images)

Debates over whether the Pacific nations should be considered Tier 1 can be put to bed for now by the simple fact their talent pools are nowhere near the depth of Australia, New Zealand and England.

Tonga were great in the 2017 tournament, but will they be great in 2029? Maybe not. By comparison, England were runners-up at the last World Cup – going down to the Aussies in the final by just 6-0 – and you’d say they’ll be there or thereabouts in ’29.

But thereabouts doesn’t get a country keen on an entire sport again. England need to get to there.

There is nothing worse than a strutting, arrogant Pom, obnoxiously singing, “En-ga-lernd! En-ga-lernd!”

(Credit where credit is due, the English also have a long, rich tradition of singing from start to finish at sporting events that creates an electric atmosphere.)

Therefore, there is nothing better than beating a strutting, arrogant Pom, forcing them to shut up by that most glorious, silent gesture – pointing to the scoreboard.

But a team that hasn’t won anything is nothing to strut about, so the English have generally been respectful and humble in rugby league, which is all but impossible to hate.

And it’s been that way for decades – certainly my lifetime. Even that ’95 win was over a team that may have beaten us in the pool match, but hadn’t won a World Cup since the ‘70s.

Robust, consistent teams out of the Pacific are key to rugby league’s long-term future. But right now, England being a success is better for the game.

Being World Champions – preferably by having beaten a cocky Aussie side in the final – will change rugby league in the Old Dart, seeing old fans return in droves and bringing new ones along for the ride.

It’s not just a blip either, because it gives them three years with the title of World Champions (this, technically, being the 2021 World Cup).

That’s three years of strutting, singing arrogance. Three years where, even if they lose every international they play, they can still lay claim to being the champs.

And this would be happening in the country where the game began – so rather than using it to establish a presence, three years properly harnessed could help set them up for ongoing competitiveness that their compatriots in the cricketing world have established over the last two decades.

England winning the World Cup could – would – change the game for the better overnight.

In a game built on hate, while I’m sure there is plenty of animosity towards the Aussies, there is really no one that makes a Kangaroo’s blood boil.

Tonga, Samoa, PNG – even New Zealand – have our respect and even admiration.

England, I guess, have our pity. And that sucks.

An old Aussie bowler – I’m pretty sure it was Jeff Thomson but I can’t find the exact quote – once said something along the lines of, “I used to get up an hour early during the Ashes just to hate England for a little longer.”

When it comes to rugby league, I can relate to getting up early, but hating England? They’ve not been good enough to earn that level of sporting respect.

But put them on the dais at Old Trafford in November, as 60,000 Pommy fans roar and sing and generally rub our nose in it? I’m mad just thinking about it.

And how good would that be?