Tonight, after Australia have beaten Argentina, I shall walk in to the Leederville Hotel in Perth wearing only an England jersey. Oh, and the same pair of tracksuit trousers I’ve been wearing for the past two weeks. I’m not a good packer.
I will make this gesture to expose the sham of this World Cup. Go to South Africa’s Esplanade Hotel in Fremantle and they tell you; ‘We’re not thinking about playing England next week, all we’re focussed on is Uruguay on Saturday.”
Take the R14 train trip to Perth (and claim the R119 taxi fare, it’s what journalists do) and find the Sheraton Hotel. Slightly posher, slightly more expensive than the Esplanade. Yes, this is the England hotel, filled with pounds not rands.
There, they tell you: ‘We’re not even thinking about South Africa on the 18th, all we’re worried about is the Georgians on Sunday.” England’s Josh Lewsey went one step further, telling us the Georgians were so good at Sevens they could even beat the world’s No 1 ranked side.
Over in Fremantle, Joost van der Westhuizen and Werner Greef are singing the same song, just substituting Uruguay for Georgia, a quick switch of no-hopers. Anybody at the official welcoming session up at the top of the beautiful King’s Park overlooking the city on Thursday night will know the truth. Samoa, in their pretty blue skirts, have no chance in Pool C. Their best players have been forced to stay behind in the Zurich Premiership and they simply aren’t going to reach the heights of the quarter-finals this time.
Uruguay, all little swarthy chaps with slick hair, know their countrymen talk only soccer. Georgia, big lads with big smiles, have been taken to the bosom of this wonderful city. But all the love in the world won’t affect Martin Johnson’s heart of stone.
The truth is, the opening two weeks in Perth all come down to an 80 minute
clash between the world’s best side and the world’s fifth best side — England and South Africa. They’ve fought a couple of Boer Wars, they’ve just finished a lively 2-2 Test cricket series and last November’s 53-3 defeat of the Boks at Twickenham will live long in the annals of sporting brutality. England v South Africa will decide this group. South Africa will beat Uruguay on Saturday, England will beat Georgia on Sunday, and nobody cares what happens on Wednesday between Samoa and Uruguay or Georgia v Samoa next Sunday.
So tonight, after the hype of the opening ceremony and the opening game between Australia and Argentina, I’ll have to go down to the newly-opened Bok Town in the Leederville Hotel to find out exactly what the rugby-speaking public in this town think about the only game that matters. I hope that the ex-pat South Africans will give me the full benefit of their vast rugby knowledge.
Clearly, there are other important games this weekend. France v Fiji at Brisbane’s Suncorp Stadium on Saturday will be interesting, though I think Fiji peaked four years ago— and their best player, Joe Rokocoko, can be found scoring copious tries on the wing for New Zealand. Scotland v Japan and Wales v Canada sees to old rugby powers struggling to prove they’re still worth an automatic invitation to what promises to be the best World Cup so far.
I’m told that, when Australia played France at the opening game of the inaugural 1987 World Cup, 17 000 turned up. They expect EVERY game at this tournament to surpass that figure.
From Perth to Sydney, Melbourne to Townsville, Brisbane to Adelaide, they’re
getting behind the tournament, in a nation where Aussie Rules rules the roost with Rugby League in second place and soccer coming up on the rails. For Rugby Union’s sake, this World Cup needs a couple of upsets, a couple of classics. Worryingly the best chance of that comes in Pool A, where Australia must get the better of Ireland and Argentina to progress. Elsewhere, I can honestly see Wales being forced out by New Zealand and Tonga or Italy in Pool D and Scotland may struggle to reach the quarter-finals in Pool B, where France will rule the roost and Fiji and Japan will be competing for the second spot.
Anticipation is building despite the phoney war which has been fought in the
hotels of Fremantle and Perth this weekend. At one stage we had the awful spectre of Martin Johnson in best stonewalling style. Asked if he dreamed of lifting the World Cup, Johnson said: ‘No, that’s not what it’s all about.” Scarey. This guys are so engrossed in the psychological war they’ve forgotten why they’re here. Let the games begin. Let the shocks reign down.
And if I survive Bok Town tonight, I’ll tell you whether it will be England or South Africa who come out on top of Group C, with a cushy path to the final. Lose, and they’ve got New Zealand in the semi. Ouch.