The retirement of legendary lock John Eales leaves the captaincy of the Wallabies in George Gregan’s capable hands, writes Jim White
George Gregan has just returned from training, hobbling in behind the rest of the Australian rugby union squad as they troop back to their hotel. Strapped to his right ankle is a complicated arrangement complete with a small faucet, resembling a device for tapping rubber from a tree. This turns out to be a modern, sophisticated equivalent of an ice pack, put there to ease the pain of a training session rather than to confirm what many have thought of Gregan from watching his elastic-limbed performances for Australia: that he is, in fact, made of rubber. “Just a light work-out,” he says of the session. Which makes you shiver about what his team will do to the opposition if they are happy to incapaci- tate their new captain during a light work-out.
Gregan was in Madrid on the first stage of a lengthy tour that will take in Wales and France as well as Saturday’s engagement at Twickenham against England. Like all touring teams from the southern hemisphere the Australians have a nickname. They are officially to be referred to as the Vodafone Wallabies.
The VWs were in Spain not just to add another stamp to their bulging passports but on missionary work, spreading the gospel of rugby union to a developing nation. There may be a serious doubt as to what the point is in the equivalent of a Michael Jordan-led team of NBA superstars coming over to England to mash the London Towers, but Gregan is happy to do his bit of proselytising.
“There’s 15000 players, I’m told, in Spain,” he says, “which isn’t a hell of a lot fewer than we’ve got back home,” though you might think the only way Spain could entertain giving the Australians a game is if all 15000 took to the pitch at once. And indeed, the Spaniards duly take a mangling, losing by a record 92-10.
Australia win again, then not much of a story. This is the current position of pre-eminence Australian sport enjoys: everybody looks up to them. In cricket, rugby league, managing to construct stadia in which to host major sporting events, you name it, they are on a different planet from us. In Gregan’s own pursuit, the term “southern hemisphere” has become synonymous with doing things properly. Clive Woodward, the England coach, regards the Australians as the most accurate barometer by which to measure the development of his team. One wonders, then, if the Australian captain realises what a reputation for sporting excellence his nation has established and consequently how desperate everyone in England is to see them beaten.
“I think we recognise there is a healthy respect for the way Australia organises its sportingll resources,” hell says. “Not just the way teams play on thelll pitch, but lll coaches, facilities and so forth. You grow up with sport, you’re immersed in it from an early age, it matters to you. That said, we’re pre-eminent at a number of sports, but not everything.”
Maybe not yet but I tell him the biggest sporting fear of many in England is of the day his lot beat us at football. Then we might as well pack up and stick to challenging for the international pro-celebrity couch potato cup, something we’re really good at.
“And you know what, mate,” he adds. “We’ve got some pretty good soccer players already.” We can take that as a warning.
Gregan was born in Zambia to an African mother and Australian father, but he has lived in Australia from the age of one and was immersed in the culture that produced Steve Waugh, Lleyton Hewitt, Wendell Sailor and all the other steel-sinewed, ice-nervedlll winning machines of Australian sport. So since his genes are at least half from outside the pool is it, then, simply about upbringing? Is the picture we have of the Australian child educated to win at all costs an accurate one?
“I wouldn’t say at all costs,” he says. “I think the first step any sportsman should take is to ensure that they are performing at the peak of their mental and physical capabilities. If you do that, then winning should follow. I think you just invite pressure on yourself if you get too hung up on the winning.
“That said, speak to any competitor, winning is rather important. It’s not just us guys who like to win.” No, it is just that they have a lot more practise.
“In saying all that,” he adds, “I have to say there are some Australians who think sport is too important a part of our culture, that think as a nation we are too obsessed.”
Gregan despite his interest in a chain of coffee bars in Sydney, despite his affection for the novels of Elmore Leonard is not one of them. Since being appointed successor to the universally popular and admired John Eales he has taken his new role very seriously. Eales’s boots were big ones to fill (almost twice the size of Gregan’s) and the new man is conscious of the responsibility. He comes to this interview clutching a palm pilot, which occasionally chirrups away, issuing reminders of functions and appointments.
“I don’t think my life will change much on the pitch,” he says of his new job. “Yeah, it’ll be me deciding in penalty situations whether we go for a try or kick for goal. But actually John was involving me as one of the decision-llmakers for some time, so it won’t be much different. lllWhere it llllwill change llis off the pitch, pressing the flesh, meeting the media, knowing that less of my free time will be my own.”
As he says this, he looks wistfully at two team-mates already heading out into the warm Madrid evening for a bit of r and r. “But, hey,” he says, not sounding terribly convinced, “I intend to enjoy it.”
It is quickly apparent on talking to Gregan that his demeanour is not really Australian. In England it is sporting shorthand that we need to behave more like the Australians if we wish to succeed, which is taken to mean aggressive, narrow-eyed, shouty. Dominic Cork is the epitome of the Australian wannabe, all sneering and sledging and up for it. Gregan, on the other hand, is polite, thoughtful, not remotely posturing. He is kind enough to treat questions he has heard a thousand times before as though they are freshly delivered on tablets from Mount Olympus. He is David Beckham to the pseudo-Aussie’s Alan Shearer. When you know you are at the peak of the game, it seems there is no need to try too hard. You can just relax into it and be the perfect ambassador.
Thus, for instance, when asked if, as a visitor from the sporting first world, there is anything an Australian can learn from British institutions, he is magnanimity itself.
“Oh yeah, don’t put yourself down,” he says. “Look at the resources and professionalism of your soccer sides. That’s definitely something we look up to, something we’d like to emulate.”
Fine, but he will not be playing Manchester United or Liverpool next Saturday. He will be up against England, a team which has just choked on a grand slam for the third season in succession.
“Oh mate, that’s a tough word, choked, a tough word,” he says, shaking his head. “Any sportsman will tell you in a pressure situation you can have a poor game once in a while. But I think that is what, maybe, marks out the Australian sports team: they have a bad game and then they look not to worry about it but to come straight back. I think the one thing we all have in common is knowing the importance of performance under pressure. We had a pressure game in Jo’burg in South Africa in the Tri-nations last season and we lost it. Seven days later we ran out and beat the All Blacks at home. That’s what you try to do, learn from those situations. So in many ways we could be the fall guys for an England looking to get back on track. There’s no doubt about it, it will be a pressure game.”
Pressure is a word that pops up frequently in Gregan’s conversation. Clearly it is something he subconsciously enjoys.
“Not just subconsciously,” he says. “You want the pressure. I believe a Test match is aptly named. You’re going in there and testing yourself, your decision-making. In those situations you learn a lot about yourself. The more you play those games, the better you get. I love the big games. I live for them.”
Is it harder, then, to motivate himself for a game against the likes of Spain? “To be pretty honest,” he says, “your motivation, your build-up, is somewhat different, yeah. It’s still a Test match, it’s still important, but you have to tell yourself that sometimes. Probably the word is a different intensity.”
So he does not have to tell himself it is important just before he trots out against England at Twickenham.
“Woah, man, it would be pretty scary if you have to be reminded of it then. England will be a big challenge. We won’t put too much down to the Ireland match. It’s a tough game for us, they really play well at home. They’re very dynamic, very dangerous there. I like the look of [Neil] Back, the way he drives things. In terms of their level of play over the past 12 months they are probably the form team in the world.”
In addition there is the element of revenge for last year’s defeat, albeit of a Gregan-light bunch of Wallabies.
“I wouldn’t say revenge, mate. That’s not a motivating force for us. For us, it’s about developing the team, developing our play. Besides, we don’t need extra motivation. We always want to beat you guys.”
And, rest assured, the feeling is mutual.