2023-10-28 23:33:38
It was the giants’ final. The biggest, the strongest, the most historic. The final of the black headband of Scott Barrett, indestructible ball carrier. That of the unreal arms of Eben Etzebeth, with Herculean strength. A mythological duel between the fantasy of Clash of the Titans and the bad taste of The Expendables. South Africa against New Zealand. Perhaps the most emblematic poster of rugby which will never open, between the two best teams in the world, who faced each other this Saturday evening for the 106th time since 1921, the sixth time in the World Cup .
In a Stade de France vexed by the relentless reign of the southern hemisphere, South Africa won this duel without scoring a try, 12-11, and leaves for the fourth time in its history with the Webb Ellis trophy. And we can debate for hours, complain for a long time after a quarter-final still not digested, but the facts are there and they are stubborn: South Africa is the best team of all time.
After the boos – again – from the French public for the South African composition, after the presentation of the legendary Webb Ellis trophy in a vulgar Louis Vuitton trunk, after the concert of a Mika in sequins as offbeat as a concert of Mika in sequins before a rugby match, a Marseillaise full of pride preceded the haka of the All Blacks, which did not raise a single South African’s eyebrows.
A story of boxes
As expected, there was immediate talk of combat. After a huge stamp from Eben Etzebeth, it was the New Zealand third row Shannon Frettzel who was penalized with a yellow card which could be described as severe by the English referee, Wayne Barnes, for unfair play on the hooker Bongi Mbonambi. Handre Pollard’s penalty passes and the Springboks quickly lead 3 to 0. Far from the sweetness of the opening ceremony, the carefreeness of the end of summer and a cockscomb bizarrely made by a funny actor with his hand on his head, the conditions are not dire – 14 degrees, showers and gusts of wind – but they enhance the nag and less the poet of the game. So here we are before a remake of the semi-final between South Africa and England. Kicking games, here you go. Then we hope for the cagade.
In this game, the South Africans are the strongest. The danger zone is often found, shivers run through the stands with each ball kicked. And if the Springboks barely regain possession afterwards, the green waves inevitably fall on the clumsy All Blacks boosters, like Aaron Smith who cannot find the touch. In the process, Cheslin Kolbe swings a cross from the right. Logically, South Africa is rewarded with a new penalty and leads 6-0 in the 13th minute. It is also with the foot, again, that Jordie Barett sends Ardie Savea almost into orbit into the South African goal. But the ball, which has no sense of history, decides otherwise. Richie Mo’Unga plants the first New Zealand points. By a hair, his South African counterpart puts his side six points ahead.
Anyway. For a few minutes, it hasn’t been the same lemonade. Now imprecise, the South African kicks no longer allow them to penetrate the All Blacks who, for their part, are not capable of making a clean touch. Three consecutive failures are a headache. And we think of that of Jesse Kriel, damaged after a violent contact from the shoulder directly to the head from Sam Cane, who receives a yellow card… which will logically turn red. This is the disaster scenario for New Zealand, now deprived of their captain and 14 until the end of the match. The New Zealanders only played a quarter of an hour in this final on equal terms.
The South African public exults, the Stade de France, which had chosen its side, is stunned. On the field, the All Blacks play with honor between their teeth. Rieko Ioane is on the verge of flattening in a corner but he lets the ball escape. Wayne Barnes returns to the advantage after a mistake by Eben Etzebeth who is more rogue than clumsy. At half-time, South Africa leads 12 to 6.
The All Blacks, with pride
Since the start of the competition, the South African machine had seemed to run on diesel, starting its matches with difficulty against the big teams – Ireland, France, England – but partly crushing the opponent in the second half, thanks to to his bench and to the genius of adaptability of which his staff is capable. Coach Jacques Nienaber was pleased after this laborious semi-final against the courageous but limited English to have “a group where there is not much difference between starters and substitutes. When we put together our bench, people focus on the number of forwards but the important thing is the group and its quality. […] We don’t have an A team or a B team. We don’t work like that.”
Opposite, the terrifying New Zealand had never seemed so takeable before the competition. A historic defeat rate (30%) for several months and humiliating defeats against Argentina at home and especially against these same South Africans at Twickenham. Shaken, the All Blacks monument is also shaken in its own home, where rugby remains the king sport but where the number of licensees drops when the national team goes through unusual turbulence. But since the opening defeat against France, the All Blacks have had a string of great performances and held the record for points (325), tries (48) and conversions (35) before kick-off.
We could then hope for a shock, a real one. And 46 seconds after the kickoff of the second half, yet another poorly managed candle by the receiver in black sets the New Zealand goal line on fire. Warning free of charge. Then another, Kurt-Lee Arendse forgets to flatten. The heroic Siya Kolisi is in turn sanctioned with a yellow card after a head-to-head clash and here are the two teams at 14, deprived of their respective captains.
New Zealand pushes, without success. Until the flash of opener Richie Mo’Unga, who pierces the entire South African defense before serving friend Aaron Smith. The Stade de France explodes. But it is written that nothing will happen tonight for the All Blacks. The video calls out Wayne Barnes. A knock-on was committed after a throw-in at the start of the action. South African pints caress the sky. Captain Kolosi makes his return under the bronca and the French public confirms that he is probably the worst in the history of World Cups.
The Cheslin Kolbe thermometer
Disturbed, physically moved, the South Africans have their heads underwater. The New Zealand storm never ends and, logically, Beauden Barett scores his first try of the competition. 12 to 11. It makes you wonder who is playing at 14. The match becomes messy. In the media gallery, we estimate that it is “the sausage fair”. A fine analysis which clearly reflects the reality on the ground. Time flies and, as usual, South Africa gives us a match that will be close until the end. Which will be played 14 against 14, finally. Cheslin Kolbe comes out on a yellow card and the screen shows seven minutes to play. Jordie Barett misses the winning penalty, 45 meters to the right. The finale of this duel could not be more tense. In a match that is not always technically fair, the facts of the game will have multiplied and it is impossible to know which side the coin will fall on. Cruel will be the defeat.
And the All Blacks start again from their 22 meters. There are 80 meters and four minutes left. Blocked, they hit away. South Africa is missing out, mixed up. The giant screens display the distress of Cheslin Kolbe, his head in his hands. In a complete mess, in the exhaustion of a long World Cup, of an interminable match. The last melee is South African. In 23 seconds, the Springboks will make their mark on history. The world order is overturned. They won’t have been magnificent but it’s never a question of that. In the end, they are the ones we will remember.
Seven seconds. A push. A spinning melee. A whistle. Cheslin Kolbe raised his head. South Africa are world champions.
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