Four points down, 30 seconds to play, and Wales deep in their own 22. Almost the pitch’s length away from the South African line. A penalty. They tap and go. One last attack from this indefatigable Welsh team. On rushes Rhys Priestland, on rushes Jamie Roberts, on rushes George North. Over time, out of time, a turnover, game over. Wales marvellous from first to last, beaten, but unbroken. Their players all around now down on the ground, most propping themselves up on hands and knees, mouths open, eyes closed. Except one, Sam Warburton, standing tall, already shaking hands with the South Africans, the captain’s first thought in defeat the desire to congratulate the team that beat him.
Twickenham was coloured more green than red, even though plenty of Englishmen and women had come in their British and Lions jerseys. It seems the South Africans, more confident than the Welsh that their team would make it to here, had bought up more than their share of the tickets a long time back. Thousands all around, filling the width of Whitton Road, the air so thick with the choking smoke from the pop-up back-garden braais that the great stadium was lost from view. “Smells like home.” All these burly cocksure Boks, snaffling biltong and boerewors, snapping off bottle tops and swigging their beer. Barely a doubt between them. The Welsh were outnumbered, and those there looked and sounded a little nervous. Until kick-off. Then they came to life.
South Africa’s record against Wales is played 30, won 27, drawn one, lost two. The one draw was way back in 1970. The two losses were more recent, one in 1999, and the other in the last match the two teams played, 12-6 in Cardiff last November. But that had been a second team, and besides, a little like the loss to Japan in the opening round, South African fans seem to sweep such setbacks aside. “Barely a dent in the bullbar, buddy,” one put it. “Now it’s time to kick some red arse.” The Welsh drew hope too, from the match before that, a one-point loss in Nelspruit last summer, when they had led throughout before being overhauled at last in the final minutes.
Now, as then, they tore through the opening minutes. Wales made 15 carries for 63 metres in the first five minutes alone. The difference was that this time they had nothing to show for it. Their best chance went begging when Gethin Jenkins floated an ambitious pass over the head of the superb young centre Tyler Morgan, who had started the move when he tore the ball off Damian de Allende in midfield.
Wales momentum was soon checked by two penalty goals from Handre Pollard. Wales were left in the end to rue the indiscipline of their two locks, Alun Wyn Jones and Luke Charteris, who conceded a handful of penalties between them as they struggles to adjust to the pedantic demands of referee Wayne Barnes. The kicks settled South Africa. They threw themselves forward, led by Schalk Burger, who seemed determined to beat Wales all on his own. A penalty apiece made it 9-3.
Then came a moment of brilliance from Dan Biggar, who has grown, through the course of the tournament, to become one of the outstanding backs in the game, with his team-mate Gareth Davies only a step behind him. Biggar kicked an up-and-under, set off after it as soon as the ball left his boot, his eyes fixed on its flight as he threaded his way through the South African line. Running up from full-back, Wille le Roux. Biggar beat him to it, Le Roux, flailing, fell, and, all of a sudden, South Africa were wide open. Biggar closed in on the line, off-loaded to Davies who slid on over, a split second ahead of JP Pietersen.
Immediately, though, a penalty, given against Charteris: 12-10. Then a drop goal before half-time put Wales just ahead. A one-point game. It stayed that way, teetering, from Biggar’s kick in the 41st minute right through to the du Preez’s try in the 75th.
Exceptional play on both sides in that time, as South Africa rallied, redoubled, came on again and again. Their forwards working as a gang, throwing themselves into contact two, three, and four at a time, young lock Lodewyk de Jager flailing dementedly, Burger and Duane Vermeulen both bashing holes through whoever had the misfortune to be in front of them. Wales scrambled back, forced to make twice the number of tackles. South Africa took control, and would have taken the lead and stretched it, if Pollard’s accuracy off the tee had not deserted him. He missed two penalties. Biggar kicked his. The pressure became intolerable.
The game was broken open, at last, by Vermeulen. An astonishing pass, one-handed around his back out of a tackle, to send Du Preez sprinting into the corner. A fine score to settle a fantastic match, with the Welsh team left, in the end, hungry, and wanting more, as their old song goes.
