Andy Capostagno Rugby World Cup
Those of a cynical bent may have smelt a rat when the opening game of the 1999 World Cup was announced as Wales vs Argentina, instead of the expected Wales vs South Africa. It was ”traditional”, they said, for the opening game of a World Cup to pit the hosts against the reigning champions.
Wales, it was alleged, were scared of humiliation at the hands and feet of the Springboks and pulled political strings to get a somewhat softer fixture against the Pumas. Needless to say, the same cynics were silent in the aftermath of Wales’ first ever victory over the Springboks at the opening of the Millennium Stadium in June.
The fact is that a tournament about to enter its fourth edition can scarcely be said to have ”traditions”. The opening game of the first World Cup in 1987 was effectively drawn out of a hat. And given that the idea of the newly founded tournament was to grow the game outside its traditional strongholds, it would not have been a marketing man’s dream to begin with a mismatch between New Zealand and Italy, but that’s what was provided.
In a 70-6 rout Michael Jones, David Kirk, Warwick Taylor, Craig Green, Steve McDowell and Joe Stanley all scored tries for the All Blacks, but the game was memorable for one of the two tries scored by the wing, John Kirwan, who was regarded as something of a monster in those halcyon, pre-Jonah Lomu days. Kirwan did what all schoolboys dream of doing: he received the ball in his own 22 and ran through the whole opposition before dotting down under the posts.
With Italians bouncing and hanging off his mighty frame, he looked as Gulliver must have on Lilliput. It might have been a public relations disaster; men against boys. But it was not. Instead, the television images of Kirwan’s run were used to promote the tournament to a new level. He had literally kick-started the Rugby World Cup.
The All Black team which opened proceedings at the second tournament was not quite as formidable as the one captained to victory by David Kirk in 1987. They were not even fancied to beat England at Twickenham, but in the minutes after New Zealand’s own songbird Kiri te Kanawa had got proceedings under way with the new anthem, World in Union, you had to be entirely insensitive not to realise that there was something in the air.
It was 12-9 to England at half time, but the match turned on the only try, which came early in the second half. Scrum-half Graeme Bachop broke from a scrum 25m out and looped around centre Craig Innes. Confronted by England’s captain Will Carling, Bachop showed huge audacity and utter confidence in his team-mates, by passing the ball to no one at all.
It was one of those moments when time stands still. When everyone else had caught up with Bachop’s imagination, John Kirwan was haring for the line, having started his run well before Bachop’s pass into thin air. For the second World Cup in a row, Kirwan had stepped into the limelight.
This time he was tackled short of the line by English full-back John Webb, but he fed the great predator Michael Jones, who thus became the only man to score in successive World Cup opening matches. With Grant Fox’s unerring boot to the fore, the All Blacks won the game 18-12 and the English bubble had been pricked.
But in the long run, defeat proved a boon for the Five Nations Grand Slam champions, as it meant they avoided Australia, the eventual champions in the semi-finals.
And when the 1995 World Cup began in Cape Town, such logistical equations were once again top of the list of talking points. Australia had humiliated the Springboks at Newlands three years previously in the second match of the post-isolation era. They had been the best team in the world for three years and were up against a Springbok side which was booed at the same venue when it played a warm-up match against Western Province a fortnight earlier.
But once again, for those who were there it was immediately obvious that this was more than just the opening match of the third World Cup. The mere sight of president Nelson Mandela walking on to the field to officially open the tournament brought tears to strong men’s eyes. After that the superb cohesion of the Springbok effort seemed to follow on naturally, as they eventually won 27-18.
But if much of the pre-match festivities had a fairy-tale feel to them, Michael Lynagh’s brilliant individual try in the 35th minute gave everyone a reality check. On the stroke of half-time Australia led 13-9, but at that point a Wallaby down-field kick landed in the hands of Andr Joubert.
Joubert set off upfield and linked with James Dalton, who set up a ruck just outside the Wallaby 22. From there the ball was flung down the Springbok back line until it reached left wing Pieter Hendriks, whose fist-pumping delight as he rounded David Campese has since become as iconic a statement as Kirwan’s try against the Italians in 1987.
There was much more in that game, including an audacious drop goal from Joel Stransky – a portent of things to come. But the perfection of the Hendriks try seemed to sum up the whole occasion and reiterate the emotion of Mandela’s opening speech. One can only hope that the 1999 opening will have half the sense of occasion of that special day in Cape Town. Somehow I doubt it.