Expectations are rising as the countdown to the World Championship kicks off in Paris on Friday. Photo: Getty Images/Dan Mullan
I am honored to watch rugby in France and at the best of times. Where else, sitting in the stands, can you wash down oysters with a glass of Chablis, as in La Rochelle? In what other country will you discover such pure love for the game that the little Romanesque chapel on the banks of the Adour has been re-dedicated to it as a sanctuary? At a time when the sport is under siege, mired in a permanent crisis spanning everything from head injuries to ball fighting laws, it can hardly be more refreshing than returning to a place so devoted to its soul.
< p>A gem of autumn, the Rugby World Cup is today the third biggest sporting spectacle on the planet, second only to its football equivalent and the Olympics. It represents a significant rise from its dilapidated origins just 36 years ago, when fewer than 5,000 people watched an England group game at Sydney's Concorde Oval. The trend continues to be one of hectic expansion as the tournament desperately attempts to annex new territories in Asia and North America. But for the next seven weeks, he returns to France, to the land where William Webb Ellis, the creator of rugby and the inspiration for his most coveted trophy, is buried in a sleepy cemetery in Menton.
The time is chosen randomly. Rugby has rarely been favored in the headlines during this World Cup, not in any hemisphere. As England tumble from one disaster to another, the national team petrifies before our eyes, and three Premier League clubs fail, the Australians are still hesitantly adjusting to the sight of Eddie Jones in an akubra ordering reporters to uppercut himself. What everyone desperately needs is an injection of joy. This is where France, whose southwestern regions have made rugby not a pastime but a way of life, is only too happy to help. “Rugby is the story of a ball around which friends are around,” said Jean-Pierre Reeve, former France captain. “And when the ball is gone, friends remain.”
It helps that France has a team worthy of romanticization. Antoine Dupont is a gift to the host country, a scrum-half who enjoys rare unanimity, being recognized as the best talent in the world. Aside from the mercurial choreographer, Fabien Galtier's team has almost immense wealth, from the devastating flanker Charles Ollivon to the unmistakable striker Damien Peno. Even Alan Gilpin, chief executive of World Rugby, calls them «impressive». When it's time for their first match against the All Blacks on Friday night at the Stade de France, the game will be the highlight of any final.
If only the same applause could be showered on England. Alas, the 2019 runner-up team is sailing down the English Channel looking less like a future champion than like a battered second-tier team sinking fast. Fans cling to a faint hope that they will find a life raft, that they will somehow rekindle memories of 2007 by forcing a change in momentum. On this occasion, the last World Cup held in France, England followed a 36-0 defeat to South Africa in Paris, reaching the final with the same opponents 36 days later. Expect this incredible symmetry to be put to work in the now very likely case that Steve Borthwick's players travel to Marseille in Argentina. But don't expect the miracle to happen twice.
Instead, enjoy the absolute unlimitedness of Stage 10 of the World Championship. While some predictive models give England only a four percent chance of winning, the prize is highly uncertain, with the favorites split between France, Ireland, New Zealand and South Africa. All four cases are marked with asterisks. Can the French manage in the absence of brilliant midfielder Romain Ntamak? Will the Irish be able to redeem the curse of seven quarter-final exits? Are the All Blacks a pale imitation of the all-conquering generation of Dan Carter and Richie McCaw? Can the Springboks win just by dominating set pieces?
The stylistic contrasts are mesmerizing. While purists might naturally be drawn to France, illuminated by Dupont's dazzling ingenuity, South Africa's dependence on front rows sprawling like human harvesters suggests that the brain will be opposed by brawn. However, there is an unusually one-sided pooling phase to go through first. Often, this month-long romance feels like a protracted snack for the holiday that is sure to follow. But the composition of the last eight in France this time is far from a fait accompli.
When the pools were ranked according to last year's world rankings in 2020, the picture looked grimly familiar, with the top two in each pool clearly visible. Few could do the same now that Fiji, along with Wales and Australia, beat England at Twickenham. Where England once seemed to have the easiest path of all, their draws with Japan and Samoa have since taken on a much darker tone. But what is ominous for Borthwick inspires the World Cup as a whole. The global game is in motion. Just last fall, Argentina beat New Zealand one week and lost by 50 points the next. The old confidence is dissolving.
Nothing in this World Cup has the impression of a sideshow: more than 2.5 million tickets have been sold. Even less stellar matches like Uruguay vs Namibia in Lyon or Georgia vs Portugal in Toulouse should draw full crowds. The highlight is not in the names in the team, but in the richness of the atmosphere. The FIFA World Cup in France, gastronomic guides in every city, and the liberating lack of elitism that still haunts rugby in England, is something for a real epicurean.
The community may be an overused concept in sports, but the French, true to the spirit of rustic rugby, intend to make it their guiding mantra by broadcasting matches in every public square available. This is the legendary concept of the “third half” in action. “Rugby is played not in two halves, but in three,” says Rene Krabos, who won 17 matches for his national team, including at the 1920 Olympics. “Pre-match ardor, game courage, post-match brotherhood. The third most important.”
For those traveling to Bordeaux or Toulouse, a visit to the Notre-Dame-du-Rugby chapel will show the sincerity of this feeling. There, on a stained glass window, is an image of the Virgin Mary with a fight at her feet and the Infant Jesus throwing a ball into the hallway. In an age of growing disbelief, this is a sign of rugby's status as a quasi-religion in France. And it's a reminder of why this World Cup, perhaps more than any other, can bring the sport out of decline and into the light.
Advancing Rugby World Cup Predictions.
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