It is perhaps the most primal sight in world rugby. A player carries and crashes into the gain line. Bodies engulf him and force him to the ground. Following the action, with a shark’s sense for blood is Ritchie McCaw.
He arches over the stricken opponent and dares you to break him. The ball emerges soon after. Turned over literally by The man. That or the harsh shrill of a referee’s whistle. Penalty, black.
There are a few grey areas to the All Blacks. The Haka has grown more and more outlandish as the years have passed, while their belief in their divine right to win has not endeared them to the wider world of rugby.
That belief however, is eroded every four years when the William Webb Ellis trophy is contested. The choke mantle that haunts their dreams and destroys their prospects at the World Cup has given them an air of plucky winner’s this year. The over dog you want to see win.
They have been the best team in world rugby for the last seven years, and that may be underestimating it. Ever since Dan Carter reduced the Lions to kittens in 2005 the All Blacks have ruled barring the odd road bump. South Africa can point furiously to France ’07 but their fortuitous route and two losses to New Zealand that year suggest the All Blacks had their number.
That road bump is usually an injury to Carter or more especially McCaw. The influence he has over the greatest side in the world is obscene. Some players are leaders, their mere presence is needed to inspire. Others lead by their example, by their talent and deeds. McCaw is one of the rare breeds who does both. A genius player and a commanding general.
I was fortunate enough to see him play once. A freezing November evening in Croke Park, where true to form the All Blacks had their way with Ireland. To watch him in the flesh was something though. The accuracy and pure élan of Dan Carter is astounding but the violent hunter instincts of McCaw had me wide eyed. A Kiwi had typically told me in the pub beforehand we would lose “but you will see Ritchie mate, and that’s no bad thing.” It wasn’t.
He leads his side out against France on Sunday morning ready to embolden the greatest C.V in world rugby. A Lions series, record All Blacks caps holder. Tri nations, Super 14’s, they have all fallen to the captain. One remains, one that has eluded every All Blacks captain since 1987.
That it is France has a nice symmetry to it. The French, inspired by Thierry Dusautoir, and helped by New Zealand’s aversion to drop goals knocked them out at the quarter final stage in 2007. McCaw appeared immediately after the match, clouded in his grey shirt and unable to comprehend what had happened.
The ultimate redemption awaits and how he has earned it. Challengers have risen. Hendrich Broussow of South Africa had a particularly fruitful spell against him while an Australian commentator’s description of David Pocock as a freak looks apt at the moment. But Ritchie has scaled the heights and stayed there. Over a decade of knowing exactly what he is going to do and opponents still cannot stop him snaffling that ball.
The sight of the great number seven lifting the world cup on Sunday will be the perfect bookend to his glory years. Injuries are clearly taking their toll and he may find that his legs cannot get to that ball his eyes will forever see.
That is for another day, for now he has his greatest victory in sight.
Look for the black number seven on Sunday with the shock of hair emerging with the ball. Even his name sounds like a crow’s call. They are attracted to silver. Gold awaits for McCaw.
