International rugby coaches, it’s widely acknowledged by experts, are crazy people. Ridiculously competitive, ornery, cussed. They manipulate men, read The Art of War and sit in glass booths and rage against the Gods.
Well, Michael Cheika does. He’s good television in the coach’s box. There’s a camera pointed permanently at him. Like Craig Bellamy at Melbourne Storm or Ricky Stuart on the sideline, Cheika is good theatre. There’s no filter, he doesn’t turn off because there’s people looking at him. It’s raw stuff. And all power to him.
All power to Steve Hansen, too. The camera pointed at him will most often see a man beatific, content – a miniature Buddha. There’s a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. There’s pressure on Hansen every Test. The All Blacks’ legacy is a national treasure. Yet Hansen is Cool Hand Luke. There’s also something of the imp about him.
To observe both men up close in a post-match press conference – one man who’s won the Bledisloe Cup, the other who’s lost six Tests straight, four at home – is a study in contrasts and similarities. Cheika does terrific hangdog. Those jowls. Magnificent jowls. And the eyes, hanging low, peering out after a loss. There are bloodhounds who would feel sad for him.
Hansen has fine jowls also, but given the All Blacks’ dominance over their friend-enemy, there’s a glint in his eye that hints at mischief. It’s clear he gets a kick out of twisting knives, stirring porridge, and making proclamations that add pressure to Cheika’s already pressured gig. There’s a bit of Eddie Jones about him. Hansen is hyper-competitive and mischievous. He’s loving it.
And why wouldn’t he? Hansen knows Cheika because he knows himself. He knows how much he’d hate it if the boot were on the other foot (well, he can’t absolutely empathise with it). Were an All Blacks team to lose six Tests in a row, four at home, there would be a referendum about revoking the citizenship of those responsible. And anyway it’s never happened. Never will if you listen to Kiwis. They might be right.
Regardless, Hansen knows a fellow traveller, knows a fellow crazy person. Coaches at this level are driven and competitive in ways normal people wouldn’t get. Hansen knows what makes his counterpart tick. And occasionally tick-tick-boom.
Cheika’s post-Test proclamations in terms of refereeing, “gouging”, claims of the All Blacks staff allegedly meeting the referee before the Test – he wouldn’t see that as whingeing. Others would. But for Cheika he’s just stating facts, pointing out unfairness, calling it as he sees it. It can come across as graceless – surely he should be just lauding the All Blacks – and deferring attention from another dud performance. Perhaps there’s a little of both those things.
But mainly, if he’s asked about it, he’ll reply honestly. It’s what he thinks. There’s no bullshit about him. And the “story” of the game wasn’t that the All Blacks won – because that’s what always happens – it was the Australian coach raging against the machine.
Because Cheika cares. And his players know it. And they rallied Saturday night in a far better and more feisty performance than their limp capitulation in Sydney. They didn’t actually “win”, of course, or even really look like it. They didn’t score a try. Their lineout ball was stolen. They failed defensively, technically, under the pump. The All Blacks were just better. That’s effectively the rub of it. New Zealand has a better team with better players and a captain referees like.
Better coach? Why yes, according to Sonny Bill Williams, who would know. But, Sonny? You could coach the All Blacks. And I could coach the All Blacks. And Hansen’s gig is largely mischief. Cheika was coach of the year for bringing an ordinary team to the verge of a great thing. Hansen is coach of the year for stirring up Wallabies.
How about sitting on that “bug” thing for a week, calling it a “process”, then the news reaching the New Zealand Herald the morning of the Test? Ha. Were they talking into the thing after they found it? Spreading misinformation? Counter-intel? Probably not. It’s effectively worthless information anyway.
But this stuff from Hansen is classic: “Lots of people are speculating about who’s done it and who hasn’t and I don’t think that’s fair because no one knows who’s done it and obviously there’s plenty of people who could do it.”
There was a time the Wallabies were at least competitive against New Zealand. Not this year. Well, they were competitive in the little dust-ups and scuffles. Physically they stood up, mostly. Their scrum didn’t go backwards. So there was that. And they did their best and you can’t question the commitment. So there was that, too. All that niggle in the match, all good.
Visiting teams can almost defer to the All Blacks. It’s “their” Test match. They do the haka, everyone look at it, respect it. Today there’s a legislated distance between provocative, challenging war dance and respectful, deferential opposition. And it’s become something of a production.
Years ago the Wallabies countered it by the tactic of wearing tracksuit pants. True! Trackie dacks beat New Zealand. There was a feeling the All Blacks ran straight from the haka, fired up and into the game. By spending a beat before kick-off taking off their long pants, it meant the Wallabies “owned” the start, like sprinters at the blocks. Last one ready is the big dog.
It probably wouldn’t work these days. They could front it nude and covered in rude words, and it wouldn’t matter.
Now, the haka is one of the best things in sport. The theatre of it, the roots and all it means. Great stuff. And all respect to it. But standing there facing it, copping it, absorbing it, you don’t have to like it. The Wallabies are jack of it. And jack of losing.
Some years ago, in the midst of much moral opprobrium over Quade Cooper’s knee bumping into Richie McCaw’s head, Phil Kearns said: “You’re not out there to be nice to them.”
The Wallabies weren’t nice on Saturday and it was a snarky old game. The odd little dust-up and spot fire – like lock Adam Coleman throwing his body around – all that came from Cheika during the week, when he drummed into his men an idea: we’re not gonna take it, oh no, we’re not gonna take it, we’re not gonna take it anymore.
Crazy? Of course. Effective? Yeah, not really. But then nothing is. The Wallabies saved some face on Saturday night. They weren’t bullied. But rage all you like, they’re a long way from the All Blacks.
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