At all the major centres of South African rugby, from sea-level Kings Park in Durban and Newlands in Cape Town to the Highveld, thin-air Ellis Park in Johannesburg, Loftus Versfeld in Pretoria and Free State Stadium in Bloemfontein, a message is clearly delivered. Every wisp of smoke from the braai, every shot of cane spirit, every guttural word of welcome lets you know: you are in our land. This is our home.
From the feel of these places and the spirit of their local teams, the national team, the Springboks, may draw strength. There is a sense of rivalry even here – which location can best inspire South Africa and reinforce the connection between place and performance?
How perfect then that the Springboks should find themselves at Villa Park. A troubled team in an anxious place. The two-times winners of the Rugby World Cup are looking for restoration in their distant homeland’s affections after crashing to defeat to Japan in Brighton. They must beat Samoa, victors over the USA in their first-round match.
They should be telling themselves that in eight meetings they have never lost to Samoa, but they seem intent on dwelling on pain. They remember Alesana Tuilagi being sent off for a high, stiff-arm tackle on Jean de Villiers, they remember – luridly – James So’oialo taking a handful of Adriaan Strauss’s genitals; Paul Williams hitting Heinrich Brussow; Danie Rossouw and Francois Hougaard being dispatched to the blood-bin by the sledgehammer blows of the Samoans.
This fits a traditional call to arms. South Africa have been wounded and are in danger again. There must be nothing timid in their approach. The instructions from the coach, Heyneke Meyer, are to revert to what they do best: win the ball, kick for position and drive mercilessly with mauls and aggressive charges. Simple, basic stuff. If they get it right, nobody in the world can touch them.
But if the charges of the ball-carriers – of Duane Vermeulen, restored at No8, of the hooker, Strauss, and the wing forward Schalk Burger – do not breach the Samoan defence there is already a sense of doom. The message is being reported back home that if the team do not follow instructions, or if two principal characters in the delivery of an improved performance – the veteran De Villiers, and the even more venerable Victor Matfield – do not play well, they will be replaced within half an hour.
Such a stark warning is at odds with the mood of three months ago, when De Villiers and Matfield were classic examples of highly experienced campaigners without whom the World Cup could not be won. But three months ago, as they are now being reminded by hourly barrage, they had never lost to Argentina – as they did 25-37 in Durban in the Rugby Championship – and never to Japan. The memories of the 32-34 game in Brighton have turned healthy pressure on South Africa to keep alive the tradition of being a perennial powerhouse into stress: mess up this time and you’re gone. And you, the captain, and you, the best lineout forward of the last decade, will be the first to go.
The team are not young. Matfield at 38 is the oldest but he is not alone on the downward slope of the fourth decade of life. Bryan Habana is 32, De Villiers 34, Fourie du Preez, the one-man thinktank at scrum-half, is 33, Burger 32. Nobody improves physically in these years and South Africa are hell-bent on being physical.
The pressure on Matfield is even more intense because he retains his place – alongside the 23-year-old Eben Etzebeth – at the expense of the 22-year-old Lood de Jager, who was one of the few successes against Japan. Matfield is only seven years off their combined ages. If his legs do not leap or push as once they did, he will be gone. There is a certain lack of dignity – certainly a cruelty – about what may await the noble Matfield.
South Africa’s plan to return to what they know best will surprise no one, least of all the Samoans, who are equally devoted to contact. Individually imposing, Samoa are vulnerable collectively. The tighter the Springbok forwards can wrap themselves into driving mauls – and here the direction of Matfield from within and Du Preez as their eyes on the outside is all-important – the greater their chances of surviving what will be a brutal test of their resolve.
To return to the physical is typical of South Africa, but it comes at a time when their strength and height, built on meat and Dutch ancestry, is not as pronounced as in the past. Professional rugby the world over humps its weights and hones its physiques, and to be big and strong is a given. To reach for the old ways is a risk. We shall know in the first half-hour if it is too much for the oldest.
