A week before the start of the 1991 Rugby World Cup the Wallabies arrived in London and held a press conference at the team hotel. In those far off days things were done on a far less formal basis, so we milled about with the players, eating and drinking and chatting.
Thinking that this was too good an opportunity to miss, I whipped out my tape recorder and cornered the Australian captain, Nick Farr-Jones. After a few thoughts along the lines of ‘We’ve got a good blend of youth and experience†I asked him if there were any teams at the second World Cup who might reasonably be expected to cause an upset or two.
‘I think you’ll be surprised by Samoaâ€, he said, and rarely have truer words been uttered. Four days into the tournament I was one of the lucky ones who watched Western Samoa (as they were then called) beat Wales 16-13.
12 years down the line the resonance of that result has faded somewhat, mainly because Wales have been in a downward spiral ever since, but in 1991 they had home advantage and they were defending the third place position they had won at the inaugural World Cup by beating Australia. How on earth could a bunch of South Sea islanders captained by a professional piano mover hope to win at Cardiff Arms Park?
What few of us from the British media and fewer still from the general public realised, of course, was that at least half the side played first class rugby in New Zealand. Moreover, the centre pairing of Frank Bunce and To’o Vaega stood comparison with the Wallaby duo of Tim Horan and Jason Little and the flyhalf, Stephen Bachop, was the younger brother of Graeme, the scrumhalf brought to the tournament by the All Blacks.
Furthermore, the win against Wales would almost be reduced to a footnote in history had they won their next match, too. This was against Australia, the eventual champions, in the teeming rain at Pontypool Park. Michael Lynagh won the kicking duel against Matthew Vaea and the Wallabies won 9-3.
Farr-Jones limped off the field in the second half with a knee injury and as I watched him depart from my jerry-built desk in the press box, I could hear his words ringing in my ears: ‘I think you’ll be surprised by Samoaâ€.
The point is that 12 years down the line it’s time we stopped being surprised by Samoa. The game at Pontypool Park was a far better form guide to the islanders than the one in Cardiff and it crucially informs what happened last weekend when Samoa played England. These guys are not a bunch of no-hopers good for a few clothesline tackles. These guys can play. How on earth can South Africa beat them?
Well, history tells us that it shouldn’t be too tough. The Springboks have never lost to Samoa and beat a team very similar to the one that embarrassed England, 60-18 at Loftus last year. In 1995, when the two sides met for the first time in a World Cup, the Springboks won 42-14 at Ellis Park.
The fact of the matter is that South Africa rarely encounters the same trouble with Samoa as northern hemisphere sides, principally it seems because they play a game familiar to us. Put simply, Samoa are famous for the ferocity of their tackling, but so are the Springboks.
Their Achilles heel is always the technical weakness of their tight five, an area where the Springboks have come on in leaps and bounds this year. The key, as usual, is to stop their gifted back row and halfbacks from running riot in broken play. When England realised this, admittedly somewhat belatedly, they shut the game down with some ease.
So, as usual we are asking for a Springbok side to play with structure and discipline, without eschewing the ferociously physical nature of the game that has made them famous. And, ultimately, if this team can’t beat Samoa then it doesn’t deserve to be in the quarterfinals anyway.