Playing without brains: Wallabies need to dig deep and demand discipline

The men who taught me how to play rugby instilled in me a near-xenophobic mistrust of South African referees, which is an instinct I’ve done a lot of therapy to try and overcome.

They assured me, with the sort of jittery insistence of people who are scared of looking racist to a child, that this had nothing to do with the ref’s nationality, no! Rather it was their style that was unwelcome; clinical and law-abiding to a fault, consistently breaking exciting passages of running play to enforce a letter of the law so technical it may as well not exist.

I was told that this is most likely brought on by the kind of Bryce Courtney-writ authoritarian boarding schools you generally get in the rainbow nation. That, and a healthy hatred of the English, which is something we can all drink to.

Personally, I feel more acrimony toward French refs, though this is likely thanks to crippling residual heartbreak from last year’s Melbourne Bledisloe loss. The Wallabies vs Pumas game we just witnessed in Sydney had no comparable controversies. Jaco Peyper, while he had far from a perfect night, was serviceable.

What was not serviceable was the appalling discipline and decision making of this new Wallabies side, who brought themselves into the game with glimpses of truly gripping play, only to get scared they might actually win, trip over their own feet, and knock themselves out on their own knees, which had unfortunately failed to roll away.

(Photo by Jason McCawley/Getty Images)

Last week I wrote about the Australian team lacking heart. Some of you pointed out that it wasn’t a deficit of heart so much as the lack of a functioning game plan, which against a team as ferocious as the Springboks can often seem like the same thing.

This week the problem was clearer cut. In an overall improved performance, with a mostly dominant set piece, a backline that looked threatening and a less ‘kick happy’ approach, the Wallabies fell victim to their old nemesis: dumb rugby.

Let’s have a look at the report card:

• At 28 minutes, Allan Alaalatoa, who had another strong game in defence, stupidly holds back an Argentine defender and stifles a good attacking raid with an idiotic penalty.
• At 35 minutes, during a dominant maul off a five-metre attacking line-out, Dave Porecki holds in the ball, either oblivious or wilfully ignorant to Peyper’s call of ‘through the middle! Through the middle!’ Referring of course to Tomas Lavanini, who was in the process of splitting the maul and killing and one of Australia’s best chances to score with the ball freely playable at the back.
• At 39 minutes, Richie Arnold, on his knees, crawls all over the Argentinian ball a metre from the line. A try saver, some might argue. A yellow card, few would debate. The only thing which stopped a near-certain try off the second ensuing scrum was an excellent defensive push by the Wallabies’ seven remaining forwards (and Marika, who would be a decent shout for blindside in a pinch).
• At 42 minutes, our defensive lineout pushes the maul early and gets penalised. Montoya scores from the next phase of play. The kick-off then doesn’t go ten metres (Argentina played it, but it’s still a schoolboy error).
• At 65 minutes, Rob Valetini gets penalised for retaliating to some push and shove. Alaalatoa (captain at the time) asks the ref, ‘So we get penalised for reacting to them?’, showcasing a troubling lack of knowledge about a precedent that has existed in rugby for as long as I can remember.
• At 77 minutes, Samu Kerevi is penalised for a late tackle. A bit harsh, maybe, but it could easily have been worse had Pablo Matera caught the ball and Quade Cooper been able to follow through on what would have almost certainly been one of his trademark coat hangers. Argentina kick for touch, secure the line-out, score and win.

These were far from the only blunders. Fraser McReight, who got through a mountain of defensive work as he always does, showed his immaturity in attack by repeatedly insisting on throwing the miracle ball, three of which, by my count, lead to turnovers or a handling error. Tom Wright, who had another mixed game, unfortunately failed to shake his reputation as being unreliable under pressure with a couple of timely fumbles. Dave Porecki continued to track lazily in defence, carried through the game by nature of the coach’s clear lack of faith in the set-piece of his replacement.

Mark Nawaqanitawase. (Photo by Jason McCawley/Getty Images)

Skill issues are one thing, but what we are witnessing is a team playing without brains. Collectively, there is something here for Eddie Jones but individually, players are not taking accountability for their foolish decisions. The team is being carried up the field on the back of stupid penalties and bad decisions with ball in hand, which is unfortunately nothing new for a side that has for years been the harbinger of its own misfortunes.

I am tired of watching us lose. It’s only been two games this season and I already feel fatigued by it. I am tired of watching us throw away games we should win by being the team that doesn’t know how to keep its foot behind the line, when the ruck is formed, or that YOU NEED TO KICK THE BALL OUT, BERNARD!

Anyway, the shining lights of the night were Mark Nawaqanitawase, who showed Suliasi Vunivalu the meaning of work on the wing, and Carter Gordon, who, playing out of position (RIP my poor favourite, Len Ikitau), threw his body into every contact like it owed him money, showcasing both a hardness rarely found in the likes of halves and a tackling technique which would see him at home in the back row. Gun to my head, with one man having to make a tackle to save me, I’m choosing him over Michael Hooper any day of the week.

I am cursed to continue watching the Wallabies. I am cursed to once again watch us get mercilessly crushed by a brilliant New Zealand side who don’t know how good they’ve got it. But I will feel a little better, just a little, if we can just lose by being the less skilful team, rather than the less disciplined one.

Also, on a brighter note, I nominate Nigel Owens, MBE, to head up a Royal Commission into the pernicious prevalence of Argentinian diving. ‘Come on now, lads, this isn’t bloody soccer!’