The Eden Park Ambush

I have so much wanted to write something sooner but alas my third job of amateur sports journalist falls far behind that of my first and second, Dad and Vineyard manager. Slightly off topic for our wine blog but we love everything kiwi and none more so than our world famous All Blacks.

But what a test match last Saturday night; who would have expected the All Blacks to come out and drill the Springbok’s in such devastating fashion. This wasn’t Champagne rugby; this was single malt from a brown paper bag stuff, take a swig and get back to the front line with your mates and smash ‘em again.

For the last few days I’ve been running parts of the match back through in my head with so many highlights. Like Mill’s Muliaina roaring up the middle of the pitch like he had been shot out of a canon. Richie McCaw at his devastating best, scavenging the pill at every opportunity and leading from the front like so many great All Black captains have in the past. Owen Franks at tight head was a mirror of the great Ollo Brown, his perfect technique ensuring his pack behind him was only ever going to go forward. And surely this was Tom Donnelly’s finest 80 minutes to date. The list could go on for all 15.......

And what about Jimmy Cowan, finally he has learned to control himself and has now gone from the nigglee to the niggler. His little shirt pull on Bakkies Botha lowering the man to a cowardly head-butt and in doing so got himself a flight home in time to watch the football world cup final in his home town.

The mighty Springbok’s had no answer to the pace, passion and aggression of the All Black ambush. The predictable aerial attack didn’t work, their fail safe lineout followed by energy sapping rolling mauls didn’t either, and there was no plan B. There was an arrogance about the Springbok’s that they only had to lace up their boots to win; not on our patch fella’s, not at Eden Park.

I was watching the match from the comfort of my lounge; a couple of times I found myself standing on the sofa doing Tiger like fist pumps to the bewilderment of my 7 year old daughter who was allowed to stay up and watch the whole match for the first time. I hope the sight of her father acting like he had just scored the four tries on the hollowed turf hasn’t embarrassed her so much she won’t want to stay up with me again.

I had a phone call shortly after the match from a very good friend of mine who had taken his boys to their very first test match (A truly memorable moment for all the fathers and sons that have done this for over 100 years). Highlighting the atmosphere at the ground he reported that midway through the second half his 6 year old was slapping the backs of grown men in the seats in front in a fashion traditionally reserved for seasoned veterans. Priceless.

A sobering word of warning however; we need to lock that game up now and get feet very much back on terra firma. The Bok’s will be hurting; they will only need to replay their own faces walking off Eden Park last week to draw motivation. Their battered bodies will be healing and their think tank planning.

Wellington is going to be epic.
Matt.