Ireland vs New Zealand: The World's Finest Fall
Ireland, unsewn by their own structure, crash out in the Rugby World Cup quarter-finals once again.
In the end, there was a tinge of inevitability to the result. The type that only emerges once the whistle has blown and the dust begins to settle. The sort of the inevitability that, in an instant, distorts everything that came before and may just frame everything that comes after in a different light.
On Saturday night the mass of green that flowed out of the Stade de France did so in a daze of perplexity. Part sadness and part anger, but full of confusion and perpetual what ifs.
Ireland, with the tag of the world’s best hanging from their flat collars, have lost in a world cup quarter-final for the eighth time.
Most cruel of all was, invoking that aforementioned inevitability, there lay a feeling of familiarity. As if semi-finals are a forbidden fruit, and William Webb Ellis from on high has commanded the Irish not to touch.
It was meant to be different this time around. This Ireland side have steadily built to perfection over the past four years. At times it’s felt like they’ve cracked the code, reaching levels previously unimaginable. A series win in New Zealand. A Grand Slam. A semi-final finally felt destined.
The Irish fans, who will be missed dearly by the French economy, allowed themselves to hope and dream. Paris was swarmed not only by green jerseys but by the lyricism of the The Dubliners and The Cranberries.
Like James Joyce's own life in Paris, which after an initial period of poverty ascended into a bourgeois existence filled with fine wines and expensive restaurants, the Irish fans could indulge. With pints flowing and songs singing, they expected their stay to be a few weeks longer.
Even against the All Blacks. The greatest of rugby union’s institutions, they were favoured. They had been made to look inept against the Springboks at Twickenham. Dispatched by France in the opening game. Unchallenged by Italy, Namibia, and Uruguay. It would be tough, as it always is against the Kiwis, but this Ireland side, at least on paper, had what it would take. They’ve proved as much.
In fact, it is what has made this Irish team so irresistible - their structure - that produced their downfall against the All Blacks. A comment from Ian Foster post-game confirmed as much, in which he described Ireland’s attack during those momentous 37 phases as “cut and paste.”
Ireland’s style of play hasn’t been some groundbreaking system that teams are incapable of understanding. Rather, they just do it so incredibly well that teams are incapable of stopping it. Their immense ruck speed; the innumerable options that surround Johnny Sexton from phase to phase. They’ve done it better than anyone else.
It was that belief and trust in their own system that allowed the All Blacks, addicted to revenge, to tweak their defensive system and shut them out when it mattered most. No team defends for almost 40 phases purely on barbaric spirit without an element of understanding what they’re keeping out.
The stats favoured Ireland. High ball in play time, more territory and possession, more metres made and quicker ball than the Kiwis. Everything that they will have wanted.
The All Blacks couldn’t stop the Irish making breaks, presumably no one can. But more important than the initial break is what comes after, when Sexton, set against a disorientated defence, pulls out his playbook and targets the gaps.
Here it was Ireland who were unexpectedly disorientated by the AB’s scramble defence. Here is when the tandem of Ardie Savea and Sam Cane, the latter being branded a “shit Richie McCaw,“ by Peter O’Mahony, could tackle hard and wreak havoc at the ruck.
Here is when the halfback pair of Richie Mo’unga and Aaron Smith scampered back time and time again to shut down moments of All Black vulnerability.
There was a few classic Kiwi sucker punches. Notably Mo’unga combining with Will Jordan in a simply quintessential Crusaders try from a 4-man lineout to catch the Irish lacking on first phase.
However defence was the difference, as was Jordie Barrett’s arm which squeezed under hooker Ronan Kelleher after a lineout drive in the 72nd minute saw Ireland crash over the line. Even more stunning was the moment that Sam Whitelock’s hands grasped the ball, the sheer experience of two World Cup wins and over 150 tests coursing through him, after 37 phases and won the game-winning turnover.
And so for Ireland it’s the end of an era. Sexton will say his farewells, leaving behind a number of key players quickly approaching their elderly rugby years. Their best chance, so far at least, has come and gone.
Perhaps it is endemic. A correlation perhaps between Leinster, Ireland’s premier province who provide the bulk of the Irish side, and the national team.
For the last few seasons the club have undoubtedly become the world’s best on a weekly basis. Yet in those do or die moments victory eludes them. La Rochelle in Marseille. Munster at the Aviva. And La Rochelle once again in Dublin too - the most excruciating of the three.
Is there a connection? It’s hard to prove. The Leinster system, in line with the national side, has been near perfect at every stop until the one that matters most. One hopes that the youngsters coming through, who haven’t had to contend with periods of Irish dormancy, will finally one day vanquish their quarter-final curse.
Yet in end it indeed was the All Blacks who triumphed where it mattered, once again. This side have had their backs against the wall ever since Ian Foster’s appointment. A Scott Robertson shaped shadow looming large over Steve Hansen’s former aide and their aura all but gone.
No team has a God-given right to victory, but the All Blacks have something close.