by Paul Cook –

“Write a story about the upcoming World Cup from an Englishman’s perspective,” said the Editor.

“Geez, that’ll make me popular,” I thought!

But not one to shy away from a challenge, I got round to thinking about it in a bit more detail.

“What does the Rugby World Cup mean to me, to that little island on the other side of the world I used to call home, to my fellow countrymen and women and to the game itself?”

So, if you’ll permit me a few minutes of jingoistic introspection – and please don’t think I would do you, the reader, a disservice by going on to wax lyrical about the Red Rose and it’s impending, irrefutable road to World Cup glory with my ‘Pommy’ blinkers on – then I’ll try to muse a little on those questions and hopefully, offer a different perspective of the next six weeks of competition.

My first thought of course is, I wish I was there! But while I was incredibly fortunate enough to join the travelling circus for the visit of the British & Irish Lions two years ago, both the bank balance, and the necessary influence within the right circles, fell some way short of getting me aboard this particular sporting charabanc.

Alas, like many other avid ‘egg-chasers’, I will be forming a perfect imprint of my rear-end on the sofa for the next six weeks, looking on in envy as I suffer a barrage of text messages from family and friends, informing me what I am missing out on.

Like the Olympics in 2012, it’s amazing the surge in national pride one feels when your country is hosting a major event, especially if – as they most certainly did then – they make a darn good job of it. I know from speaking to my wife, neighbours and friends here just how proud Australians, and Sydneysiders in particular, felt about the triumphant festival of sport that was the 2000 Olympics, and there is certainly a part of me that yearns to experience that feeling, that buzz around the country, when flags flutter proudly from windows and rooftops and – for all too brief a period – a nation unites to roar the boys home.

But I’m not. And after all the speculation and remonstration, prediction and indecision, commerciality and hyperbole, the 8th edition of the Rugby World Cup will kick-off in the early hours of tomorrow morning (AEST) at the traditional home of the game, Twickenham, with 84,000 lucky souls in attendance.

Time for a history lesson.

Known affectionately to rugby fans in England as HQ, this amphitheatre of the oval ball holds a special place in the heart for most, if not all, who play there, irrespective of their nationality. Like a cricketer walking through the Member’s Pavilion and out onto Lord’s, or a golfer teeing off on the first hole at St. Andrew’s, playing on the hallowed turf at ‘Twickers’ is about the closest any rugby player will get to feeling in touch with the origins of the ‘game they play in heaven’.

The statue of William Webb Ellis – ‘the founder of rugby’ – outside Rugby School in Warwickshire, England

The game itself has its roots some 100 miles north of Twickenham, at Rugby School in the town of Rugby, Warwickshire. It is there, in around 1823, that –allegedly – one William Webb Ellis decided he’d had enough of kicking the football towards the opposition’s goal and opted to pick it up and run with it instead. Thus, the game of rugby was born.

Forgive me if I’m patronising you with information you are already quite familiar with, but you would be astounded by how many fans of both codes – league and union – haven’t the faintest idea that the name ‘rugby’ derives from an actual place that actually exists. Who knew??

Anyway, as a result, this World Cup naturally provides a welcome return for the William Webb Ellis trophy to it’s spiritual home, and that fact alone adds a nostalgic touch to proceedings – hopefully for all competitors, supporters and armchair fans, not just those of an English persuasion.

The last time the tournament was officially staged there was 1991 (although, as in 1999, the World Cup was actually spread across five countries including England). That year, a gnarly English side with some gas in the backs made it all the way to the final where, yes, they were beaten by a terrific Australian side containing Campese, Horan, Lynagh, Kearns et al.

Still hurts.

The Wallabies celebrate victory over the ‘Old Dart’, in the 1991 World Cup Final at Twickenham

I remember the opening match, played at Twickenham, where the hosts took on the mighty All Blacks. For some reason, it kicked-off at 3pm on a Thursday afternoon – imagine the TV companies approving that now!

I was a 19-year-old apprentice back then, with an interest in rugby (I grew up in Northampton, a rarity in that it’s a town whose rugby team are more popular than its footballing equivalent) but still utterly fixated by the national sport. But my two bosses at the time were rugby men, who didn’t think twice about shutting our workplace down for three hours, bringing in a telly and a carton of beers and allowing me to sit front and centre to absorb every pulsating minute.

Despite the 18-12 defeat, I’ve been hooked on rugby, and the Rugby World Cup, ever since, and I’m sure I wasn’t alone as the game kicked-on in England off the back of the host nation’s relative success. Crowds went up in the domestic competitions, player numbers rose and for all the many, many young boys at the time that grew up wanting to be the next Paul Gascoigne, there were just a few more sticking their hands up to be the next Will Carling, Jeremy Guscott or Rory Underwood instead.

The game of course has come a long way since then. The professional era ushered in a new dawn in 1996, money has poured into the coffers, the game has grown exponentially and the World Cup is now the third biggest sporting event on the planet. The global TV audience for this tournament is estimated to exceed 772 million people, dwarfing that of its predecessor 24 years ago.

Named as 2015 hosts back in July 2009, the only sticking point for followers of the game in England was the announcement of the tournament venues. Wales had been another of the initial bidders to host proceedings before pulling out, but their support of England’s bid led to the concession of seven of the 48 matches being played at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff. But it was the decision to use traditional football grounds that sparked a backlash.

Aside from Twickenham and the Millennium Stadium, only two of the remaining 13 venues – Kingsholm (home of Gloucester RFC) and Sandy Park (home of Exeter Chiefs) – are dedicated rugby union grounds. Of the other nine, two are officially multi-purpose (Wembley and the Olympic Stadium) and seven are football grounds.

Chosen for their size, the desire to maximise the ‘bums on seats’ potential is understandable from both a financial perspective and by way of making the occasion available to as many supporters as possible, but the commercial reasoning still left a bitter taste in the mouth for many.

Playing Canada v Romania at the 32,000 King Power Stadium (home of Leicester City FC), instead of the 24,000 Welford Road (home of the famous Leicester Tigers RFC), a mere 10 minutes walk away, is, for mine, a case of greed over tradition and pokes a rather large corporate stick at history. But hey, that’s the way the world works huh?

As it was announced on Tuesday morning (AEST) that ticket sales had broken the previous record set in France in 2007, with over 2.25 million tickets sold (94% of capacity), it’s hard to argue that the strategy paid off. Interestingly though, tickets are still available for Canada v Romania and the other two pool games at King Power Stadium.

Just saying.

If you ask me what the expectations are in the country for an English triumph on the field, I would say ‘cautiously optimistic’ just about covers it. This England side appear to have the ability to go all the way – if they achieve their maximum potential for six straight weeks. But recent history – and I hope I’m wrong – would suggest that it is somewhat unlikely.

While the Stuart Lancaster era has seen a marked improvement on the performances served up under the previous regime, the introduction of a raft of exciting young talent and a much better brand of rugby, they simply haven’t got the runs on the board to suggest they are world champions elect.

If we are to reasonably assume that there are seven realistically potential winners of this tournament – the Tri-Nations heavyweights plus England, Ireland, Wales and France – a look at the record of Lancaster’s men against the other six contenders during his reign, doesn’t exactly lend itself to theories of impending global domination.

Of the 29 matches played against their top six challengers since February 2012, England have won only 13, including one win from six against the All Blacks and zero from five against South Africa. Their record against their most vaunted opponents in Pool A’s ‘group of death’ – Australia and Wales – is a touch more positive, with four wins from seven. But contrast that with the form guide of the class of 2003, the only England side to lift the Webb Ellis trophy, and you can see a clear difference in terms of reasons for optimism.

Of the 25 matches played against the same six nations in the three years prior to the 2003 World Cup, Sir Clive Woodward’s England won 21, including two from two against New Zealand, four from four against Australia and three from four against South Africa.

The great Bob Dwyer said you needed ‘five world class players in your side to win a World Cup’ and in spite of my obvious bias, I’d be fairly comfortable to name Martin Johnson, Neil Back, Lawrence Dallaglio, Richard Hill, Jonny Wilkinson, Will Greenwood and Jason Robinson in those terms. I could also make a pretty good case for Trevor Woodman, Steve Thompson, Matt Dawson, Ben Cohen and Mike Tindall.

England lift the 2003 World Cup in Sydney. Cue the best drinking session of my life – I lost two days.

If I look at the current squad, with a Northampton Saints bias, I’d like to put Courtney Lawes’ name forward and maybe considerations for Dan Cole and Mike Brown but I wouldn’t be staking my house on it. And while there’s every chance we’ll be talking about George Ford and Jonathan Joseph in those terms in just over six weeks time, as it stands right now, such reverence is all before them.

England 2003 were no.1 in the world for the year leading up to the tournament, had bags of experience throughout the squad, and came in as Six Nations and Grand Slam champions. They knew how to win tournaments and they knew how to win big games against the very best, something you simply can’t say of the class of 2015.

I’m certainly not ruling them out, and home advantage will play a big role in all of this, but my gut feeling tells me they’ll fall just short in the semis or even the final itself.

Who will win?

Well, if you’re a betting man, it’s hard to see anything other than a New Zealand v South Africa semi-final on one side of the draw. Both teams should cruise fairly comfortably from their pool, although the Springboks will not get it all their own way against Samoa or Scotland, and the only potential thorn in the All Blacks’ side is a meeting with their nemesis France in the Quarter-Final. It will be held in Cardiff and we all know what happened the last time those two met at the same stage, at the same venue, eight years ago.

However, South Africa could well come unstuck in the last eight when they will face England, Australia or Wales and I have a feeling that whoever wins the dreaded Pool A will make the semis, where they will likely meet Ireland, if they can overcome France in their crucial Pool decider.

In a nutshell, it’s a New Zealand v Australia/England/Ireland final.

The good things for me is, if England don’t win it, I have a few allegiances to fall back on in order to vicariously celebrate a title win!

I’ve lived in Australia for nearly 12 years, have an Australian wife and have been lucky enough to get to know some of the current Wallabies over the years. All damn good blokes who I would be extremely happy to see lift the trophy, and what a much needed shot in the arm for the sport in this country as well.

I have a Scottish mother so, unlikely as it is that the ‘Bravehearts’ will be celebrating on 31st October, I’d be more than happy to put my kilt on and knock back a few whiskies, and I also had an Irish grandfather so, should they be dancing a merry jig in Dublin and Belfast by tournament’s end, it’s Guinness all the way!

Whatever the outcome, for the sake of the sport itself, let’s hope the rain stays away, that the rugby is positive and entertaining, that the Island nations prosper and at least one makes it through to the knockout stages, and that there are no 100+ score lines when the big boys meet the minnows.

First things first though – Fiji. And hasn’t that got banana skin written all over it?

Now where’s that songbook. “Swing Low Sweet Chariot…..”