TV Sport 6: Right foot of the left footer
As I write, I'm watching the recording of last night's French Rugby final between Toulon and Castres, wherein the left-footer used his right foot to kick one last defining drop-goal. Perfect. A little TV moment all of its own, just like last week's second successive Heineken Cup triumph, the perfect ending to what may be rugby's greatest ever career.
His rival for the accolade of being the greatest Northern Hemisphere professional rugby player (who I've already written a little about) finished yesterday too, with a win in a final, but, unsatisfactorily, limped off with injury after 9 minutes. And I don't think, looking back, people will be able to claim Brian O'Driscoll achieved more in rugby than Jonny Wilkinson. Similar in their tally of Heinekens, even not too far apart when in comes to the Six Nations, you look for a memorable BOD moment in the World Cup and, sadly, your memory will be empty. Let that not detract more than a little from the greatness of O'Driscoll, who may shade Wilkinson in personal accomplishment, but in terms of achievement at the pinnacle of the game, there's no contest.
In the bloated and ultimately doomed list I made last year of the Greatest British Sportspeople of All Time, I had Wilkinson top. Above everyone else from every era in every sport. Because there actually isn't anybody else. Find someone else in such a relentless and competitive sport, who won so often, set such a standard, came through so much, went to the pinnacle over and over again, redefined their era, transcended their sport, and who had such "moments".
Many, many moments, and one above all. The right foot of the left-footer, trusting his learned skill in the most testing of circumstances.
My memories of the day itself are quite plain. No great back story. I watched it on TV at my rented flat in Clapham on a Saturday morning without alcohol with my flatmates, a Scot and a Northern Irishman and maybe one or two others. They were all supporting England, usual rivalries put aside. England were the best team in the tournament and expected to win, despite the fact Australia were the home side and reigning champions. England were the best team in the final and should really have had a large lead but gradually let Australia back into the game.
Ben Kay famously dropped the ball on the line, Wilkinson missed a couple of drop goal attempts, silly penalties kept on being conceded in the second half, Australia's makeshift kicker Elton Flatley played a blinder. England looked like they were blowing it.
I remember the two tries in the game, Lote Tuqiri scoring first from a high kick for Australia, which seemed to wake England up, who dominated the next half hour utterly. The one try was scored by the marvellous Jason Robinson, set up by fine interplay between Lawrence Dallaglio and Wilkinson.
14-5 at half time, but the second half, though England still seemed in control, saw Australia claw it back and then level at 14-14 with only seconds remaining. Oh crap, this is only going one way. Surely this behemoth of a team won't bottle it at the last.
That was the best England team there's been, of course. They beat everyone, Northern and Southern, in the year or two leading up to the finals. Martin Johnson, Jason Robinson, Will Greenwood, Matt Dawson, Lawrence Dallaglio, Richard Hill, to name but a few. A team with no weaknesses. Except, some tried to claim, the lynchpin, the man at the centre of all, Wilkinson himself. Not weakness in the sense that anyone suggested he wasn't a player of magnificent talent and accomplishment, just that there were several articles at the time suggesting he was cracking a bit under the pressure. It was all a bit much for an introverted home counties boy in his early 20s in the cauldron on the other side of the world.
England's most worrying moment of the tournament had been in the quarter-final against Wales, where they'd been behind before, the story goes, Mike Catt came on at half-time to calm Jonny down, make the decisions for him as he floundered, and take England through by a relatively comfortable margin.
I do have a particular memory of that game. It was a Sunday morning, I was at church (what on earth, in 2003?) and several of us youngsters who were there and interested arranged to watch the game "as live" (about an hour delayed) immediately afterwards. Trying to avoid finding anything out about it, I didn't fail to see one elder gentleman who'd clearly checked his car radio straight after the service rolling his eyes and muttering "disaster". So I went through watching the whole game presuming that I was watching England lose, only to realise at the end that by the time he was checking, the game has only been about halfway through. So, that was a nice surprise. Sport and TV. TV and Sport.
So, though Wilkinson had crushed France in the semis, though he'd played well in the final so far, we couldn't be sure that he'd come good when came the crunch. England kicked the first penalty in extra-time and seemed to be fully in control, but just like in normal time, a dubious, silly penalty went to Australia with a short time to go and we were back to 17-17.
And so it goes. How calm England were, moving themselves up the field, Matt Dawson with the vital dart, the 15 yards which put Wilkinson in range, Johnson stabilising, drawing in defenders, to give Wilkinson space for the kick. Back it goes, in the slot, on the right foot, not a perfect strike, but it was clear, immediately, obviously, it was through and the game was won.
It's a moment English rugby hasn't lived up to since. The momentum of Wilkinson's career was shattered by years, several years, of debilitating injuries. Other greats retired, Woodward left. There have been no Grand Slams since. There was the remarkable 2007 World Cup campaign, where a team seemingly without hope came within one foot in touch of repeating the feat. That would have been a freak result. The late career dominance with Toulon is anything but freakish. It's the result of money and power and relentless ambition.
But so grand has it been, so glorious and storybook perfect, that Wilkinson need not be lazily defined in terms of one TV moment in 2003, even by the casual fan. How bizarre it's been that most English rugby fans have been supporting a team from the south of France recently, how clearly that shows that Wilkinson is bigger than the game he is part of, however much he'd refuse to admit it.
That kick in 2003, though, that was, let us not forget, England (or Britain's) biggest win in a major sporting event in the last half-century (almost), pretty much the only one. It's not the global game, it'll not be as ingrained in the sporting consciousness as 1966, but if you don't remember 1966, this was as big as it gets.
His rival for the accolade of being the greatest Northern Hemisphere professional rugby player (who I've already written a little about) finished yesterday too, with a win in a final, but, unsatisfactorily, limped off with injury after 9 minutes. And I don't think, looking back, people will be able to claim Brian O'Driscoll achieved more in rugby than Jonny Wilkinson. Similar in their tally of Heinekens, even not too far apart when in comes to the Six Nations, you look for a memorable BOD moment in the World Cup and, sadly, your memory will be empty. Let that not detract more than a little from the greatness of O'Driscoll, who may shade Wilkinson in personal accomplishment, but in terms of achievement at the pinnacle of the game, there's no contest.
In the bloated and ultimately doomed list I made last year of the Greatest British Sportspeople of All Time, I had Wilkinson top. Above everyone else from every era in every sport. Because there actually isn't anybody else. Find someone else in such a relentless and competitive sport, who won so often, set such a standard, came through so much, went to the pinnacle over and over again, redefined their era, transcended their sport, and who had such "moments".
Many, many moments, and one above all. The right foot of the left-footer, trusting his learned skill in the most testing of circumstances.
My memories of the day itself are quite plain. No great back story. I watched it on TV at my rented flat in Clapham on a Saturday morning without alcohol with my flatmates, a Scot and a Northern Irishman and maybe one or two others. They were all supporting England, usual rivalries put aside. England were the best team in the tournament and expected to win, despite the fact Australia were the home side and reigning champions. England were the best team in the final and should really have had a large lead but gradually let Australia back into the game.
Ben Kay famously dropped the ball on the line, Wilkinson missed a couple of drop goal attempts, silly penalties kept on being conceded in the second half, Australia's makeshift kicker Elton Flatley played a blinder. England looked like they were blowing it.
I remember the two tries in the game, Lote Tuqiri scoring first from a high kick for Australia, which seemed to wake England up, who dominated the next half hour utterly. The one try was scored by the marvellous Jason Robinson, set up by fine interplay between Lawrence Dallaglio and Wilkinson.
14-5 at half time, but the second half, though England still seemed in control, saw Australia claw it back and then level at 14-14 with only seconds remaining. Oh crap, this is only going one way. Surely this behemoth of a team won't bottle it at the last.
That was the best England team there's been, of course. They beat everyone, Northern and Southern, in the year or two leading up to the finals. Martin Johnson, Jason Robinson, Will Greenwood, Matt Dawson, Lawrence Dallaglio, Richard Hill, to name but a few. A team with no weaknesses. Except, some tried to claim, the lynchpin, the man at the centre of all, Wilkinson himself. Not weakness in the sense that anyone suggested he wasn't a player of magnificent talent and accomplishment, just that there were several articles at the time suggesting he was cracking a bit under the pressure. It was all a bit much for an introverted home counties boy in his early 20s in the cauldron on the other side of the world.
England's most worrying moment of the tournament had been in the quarter-final against Wales, where they'd been behind before, the story goes, Mike Catt came on at half-time to calm Jonny down, make the decisions for him as he floundered, and take England through by a relatively comfortable margin.
I do have a particular memory of that game. It was a Sunday morning, I was at church (what on earth, in 2003?) and several of us youngsters who were there and interested arranged to watch the game "as live" (about an hour delayed) immediately afterwards. Trying to avoid finding anything out about it, I didn't fail to see one elder gentleman who'd clearly checked his car radio straight after the service rolling his eyes and muttering "disaster". So I went through watching the whole game presuming that I was watching England lose, only to realise at the end that by the time he was checking, the game has only been about halfway through. So, that was a nice surprise. Sport and TV. TV and Sport.
So, though Wilkinson had crushed France in the semis, though he'd played well in the final so far, we couldn't be sure that he'd come good when came the crunch. England kicked the first penalty in extra-time and seemed to be fully in control, but just like in normal time, a dubious, silly penalty went to Australia with a short time to go and we were back to 17-17.
And so it goes. How calm England were, moving themselves up the field, Matt Dawson with the vital dart, the 15 yards which put Wilkinson in range, Johnson stabilising, drawing in defenders, to give Wilkinson space for the kick. Back it goes, in the slot, on the right foot, not a perfect strike, but it was clear, immediately, obviously, it was through and the game was won.
It's a moment English rugby hasn't lived up to since. The momentum of Wilkinson's career was shattered by years, several years, of debilitating injuries. Other greats retired, Woodward left. There have been no Grand Slams since. There was the remarkable 2007 World Cup campaign, where a team seemingly without hope came within one foot in touch of repeating the feat. That would have been a freak result. The late career dominance with Toulon is anything but freakish. It's the result of money and power and relentless ambition.
But so grand has it been, so glorious and storybook perfect, that Wilkinson need not be lazily defined in terms of one TV moment in 2003, even by the casual fan. How bizarre it's been that most English rugby fans have been supporting a team from the south of France recently, how clearly that shows that Wilkinson is bigger than the game he is part of, however much he'd refuse to admit it.
That kick in 2003, though, that was, let us not forget, England (or Britain's) biggest win in a major sporting event in the last half-century (almost), pretty much the only one. It's not the global game, it'll not be as ingrained in the sporting consciousness as 1966, but if you don't remember 1966, this was as big as it gets.
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