What exactly is decline? It’s a term that’s pulled out whenever the ABs lose and never more so than when they lose in the traumatic manner they did on Saturday in Wellington. I’ve personally always been hesitant to use the word: it’s an incredibly emotional term, one that was popularized by Romantic authors such as Edward Gibbon (The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 1776-‘89) and Oswald Spengler (The Decline of the West, 1918-’22) as a way of weaving moralistic tales together on just why certain societies end up collapsing. It is a non-Biblical Sodom and Gomorra, with just a slightly more modern touch.
Like that other politicized metaphor – Orwell’s description of sport as “war minus the shooting” – it can feel a bit silly to apply such heavy thoughts to what is essentially just a game. And yet, Saturday feels important. Whether it were those empty seats before the game was over, the ecstatic scenes in the Springbok coaching box or the thousand-yard stare of Scott Barrett in the post-match interviews, it is not enough to simply “flush the dunny”, as it were. The possibility of a decline needs to be taken seriously.
Like cart-horses playing race-horses
As it so happens, I am currently reading a book where the topic of decline runs as a theme throughout. Jonathan Wilson’s Inverting the Pyramid: the History of Football Tactics (2008) discusses how soccer formations evolved from the 19th century’s 2-3-5 onwards, while also reflecting on why England slid from the sport’s originator and primary director to just another contender, one that, furthermore, was mostly on the backfoot for most of soccer’s tactical revolutions.
This perpetual slide, however, is often brought back to a single match, Hungary’s destruction of England right in their spiritual home of Wembley in 1953. Labelled the “Match of the Century” due to the considerable reputation of both teams, the match itself was largely one-sided, Hungary’s 35 shots on goal dwarfing England’s 5. While Hungary had a generational team – led by such luminaries as Ferenc Puskas, Sandor Kocsis and Nandor Hidegkuti – it was through the combination of tactics and technique that the Three Lions were so thoroughly outthought and outplayed by their Eastern European counterparts.
An injured player from the English team, Tom Finney, watching from the side said that it was “like cart-horses playing race-horses”, the Hungarians able to consistently find space through their unique M-M formation (the classic striker playing more from midfield) while having the technical skills to make this given space count. The game would end up 6-3 in favour of the visitors, a crushing loss for a side which had up to that point only suffered the one solitary defeat in their home country.
The Hungarian team’s M-M formation, and the complex passing interplay it allowed, orchestrated by its false nine, Hidegkuti (source: Wilson, Inverting the Pyramid, 90)
While the Hungarians would go on to push onto the World Cup final a year later, the loss brought something of a spiritual crisis to English football, with “a slew of books” being published right after, “lamenting the passing of a golden age.” (122) Then again, the defeat helped pierce through the myth of English superiority and forced managers throughout the country to start experimenting with formations and tactical shifts. One of the players in the game, right-back Alf Ramsey, would coach England to their biggest achievement on the international stage, winning the World Cup at home in 1966. But even if some good came from the match, the English national football team would never again reclaim its spot as the leading side in international football.
From the Cake Tin to Wembley to HBF Park
It is impossible to know what Saturday’s destruction will eventually lead to, with it being still up in the air whether the game’s administrators in NZ will take it seriously or will just consider it a blip. There is a chance that it will simply be ignored, last week’s performance in the ABs’ spiritual home enough to keep the faith.
But reading Wilson’s book, one thing did stand out to me in his discussion of the so-called “Match of the Century”. Reflecting on whether it was mainly tactics or technique which separated the two sides, Wilson came to a nuanced conclusion: “Perhaps it is wrong to divide the two, for although the tactics permitted the technique to flourish, without the technique the tactics would have been redundant.” (89)
It brought me back to a moment, not from Saturday’s big occasion at the Cake Tin but from a much more obscure game from 2022, so obscure even that I can’t quite recount what game it was exactly. All I remember is a perfectly chiselled jaw, a beautiful mane of black hair touched by shades of grey and the most tidy execution of draw and pass, so tidy that I’ve consistently been recalling it in my mind for the past 3 years.
That draw and pass, in case you hadn’t realized it yet, belonged to Richard Kahui. Kahui was around 37 years old at the time, playing for the Western Force near the end of his career. His body, after the raft of injuries throughout his career, struggled with the pace of the game and he was mostly a bench player for the Force in that final season. And yet, his vision and skill execution stood out to such a degree that I instantly think back to that particular moment, whenever I see an All Black make yet another poor pass.
Not quite the moment I remember but close enough: Kahui’s rugby contrapposto is a thing of beauty
While the draw and pass seems pretty simple – ball in two hands, slight lift on the inside leg before passing, soft pop to your outside – the devil really is in the details: the ability to control the height and force of the pass by sufficiently swerving your upper-body and hips, the positioning of your feet before the pass in order to draw the defender, the angle of your run towards your opponents’ outside shoulder and the distance between you and your opponent when passing. All of these details are crucial for a perfect draw and pass, and Kahui stands out to me as an example. While his athleticism was no longer of the level required for Super Rugby, the sheer excellence of his basic skills still made him a valuable attacking player, allowing for flowing offensive moves towards the edge.
Back to the Cake Tin
Is there a decline in New Zealand rugby? If there is, the first thing I’d look at is its attempted implementation of tactics and technique, and ask whether the players’ skillsets are really up to scratch for the game plan that’s being tried.
While the “Match of the Century” brought existential angst to English football, at the very least it pierced through some myths. Saturday’s Test against the Springboks should do the same for the All Blacks, namely the idea that NZ rugby players are more skilled than their counterparts. The painful reality is that right now the ABs should probably be ranked dead-last in the TRC, when discussing basic skillsets.
Several try-scoring opportunities went begging against the Springboks, simply because the skill execution wasn’t good enough.
The attack moves slower than the defence due to poor skill execution
There is just one pass that puts pace on the attack, and that is Proctor’s catch-and-pass to Barrett. All others are either too loopy or behind the receiver instead of in front, which makes it easy for the Bok scramble to reach the space before the ball. And if your skills are up to scratch, the ball should always beat the man.
Compare this to the Wallaby attack against the Springboks: rather than go wide-wide, the Wallabies first condensed the Bok defence in the middle of the field, before using the cut-out ball to bypass the outside-in rush.
Simple rugby: find the right combination of tactics and technique
It gives much fewer opportunities for the Bok defence to build defensive momentum or get a potential intercept, while allowing the attack to get immediately behind them.
With the Wallabies, we see the combination of tactics (midfield rucks against rush) and technique (the JOC bridge pass) put to good effect. No such clarity can be found within the AB game plan right now, mostly because it is still built on the myth of the NZ skillset. The AB phase play attack requires an accumulation of skilful plays, and there are no indications that enough ABs actually possess these skillsets.
The draw and pass simply isn’t good enough, as the lack of detail in skill execution is clear to see
Tactically, there are too many links in the chain and technically, there are not enough links that can do what is asked of them. It’s great to have an edge forward who can beat defenders out wide but when this forward (Sititi or Savea) can’t cleanly execute a draw and pass, then there’s an issue with your tactical game plan. Similarly, if your backs are known for their issues with passing (Beauden Barrett with keeping his shoulders straight, Jordan connecting with his outsides after the break) then you might want to rethink some of your tactics as well.
A rugby nation in decline?
In 1953, it was impossible to know for English football to know whether it had truly entered into a state of decline or whether it just represented a bump in the road. A year later, England would meet Hungary again, this time losing 7-1 in Budapest. For many, it represented a final nail in the coffin. For others, like Alf Ramsey, it simply presented an opportunity for change. Ramsey would eventually lead England to their only World Cup win in 1966.
What was immediately clear though, in 1953, was the fact that English tactical supremacy was a myth. Thoroughly outthought by an innovative M-M formation and outplayed by superior Hungarian skills, it required a reset of English football. A similar picture certainly appears for NZ rugby, after the ABs’ capitulation in the capital. The attempted combination of tactics and technique is built on a fatal myth, that of superior NZ handling and passing skills.
Now firmly in the bottom of TRC skillsets, it is time for NZR to seriously address either the way they want to play the game or the manner in which they build their skillsets, as right now both facets of the game aren’t complimentary of each other. While Wellington might not represent the end of future NZ rugby supremacy, it certainly signals a fork in the road, with administrators needing to make decisions and take action.
They would do well to remember a player like Richard Kahui, who showed in the twilight of his career in the Australian backwater that is HBF Park, that the ball will always beat the man if you have to skills to draw and pass.
Getting the most out of Rieko Ioane as a strike weapon at centre
