RWC Australia 2003 A report from Scottydog.

By Scottydog
November 28 2003

It was while watching England play South Africa on the big screen at the Stoop that the idea of actually going to Australia to watch the final games started to mature.

I was enjoying the emotions of the crowd and celebrating with friends and strangers as England won this crucial game. I’d had a tough year and needed a good break to wind down and relax. So I went and booked a trip and my adult son decided to come with me. It was, after all, a certainty that England would meet Wales in the Quarter Final and progress effortlessly to the final where they would meet New Zealand, or so I thought.

Tickets safely received I settled down to watch the game against Samoa and panic soon set in. At half time I was consulting the cancellation clauses on the tickets. A big sigh of relief at full time, the trip was still on and all was well. Uraguay was a stroll in the park, no worries as they say down under.

Until the following weekend and Wales! They wouldn’t would they? My Finance Director is Welsh and she challenged me to hand over the tickets if Wales won that day. I was confident enough to agree and had to suffer for almost an hour of that game. The prospect of handing over those tickets to her had me screaming at the TV until Will Greenwood and that man Wilkinson had me smiling again.

So to Heathrow on a Tuesday evening and we left for the biggest rugby trip of our lives with the certainty of seeing England play at least once against the team of the tournament so far “France”. We travelled via Seoul in South Korea with just long enough for a shower and a shave at the airport there before the next leg to Sydney where we arrived at 7am on Thursday. I still don’t know where Wednesday went! It was raining when we arrived but soon cleared up and was warm and sunny right up to Sunday. A sun-burnt head was my first trophy of the trip. Our apartment was close to Darling Harbour which was also the venue for the supporters’ pubs, each one hosting a different nation and we sampled them all.

Saturday night was Australia v New Zealand and everyone including the Aussie press had an All Black win as a certainty. It was hot and steamy and I was sweating well in my Quins shirt that night. The script was ignored and we wondered if the AB’s had bothered to turn up at all. They didn’t touch the ball for ages and when they did it was just long enough for a couple of passes and a turnover or kick back to the Aussies. We enjoyed the banter as the Wallaby supporters ribbed the New Zealanders in the bar and on the way back to the city on the train. Now just 24 hours to wait for England.

The change in the weather was remarkable and it was England’s ability to cope with the swirling wind and rain that made the difference. We shook hands with the French sitting around us and left for several beers in the tents outside. Our seats were high up under cover but most were exposed to the elements and we met many drowned but happy supporters on the way home that night. Six days to go before the final and it was six days of merciless hammering at the hands of the Australian papers. You know how it went and we endured it with a shrinking smile and a growing desire to shove it where the sun don’t shine. The final straw was the call to Wallaby fans to camp outside the England hotel and keep them awake all night by making a noise.

I needn’t of worried, the Aussies were not so stupid as to obey their moronic press. We travelled to Manly where the boys were staying just in case we were needed. It rained hard all day but the evening was going to be fine they said.

We had escaped Sydney from Monday to Thursday to visit relatives on the coast down south and managed a swim in the ocean and saw dolphins aplenty. The nerves got worse and worse as the week progressed, I had looked forward to a calming experience away from the office for two weeks and here I was unable to sleep, jumpy and as excited as a teenager about to go on his first date. We took a bus to the stadium this time and we were the only Chariot singers onboard, lost in a sea of green and gold barrackers who couldn’t help themselves from reminding us of everything that was wrong with England and the English. Tickets had been available through the day at ever increasing prices from fans of other nations not represented that night. We heard $5000 mentioned but many went for face value.

We arrived at the stadium two hours before kick off to find that all the programmes had been sold already. Not a good start. At least it was raining. We then endured the most intense, agonising, heart stopping 99 minutes of rugby. We outsung the Aussies at every moment, we cried when we sang “God Save Our Queen” and laughed when we changed the words to “Long to Reign Over YOU” for the colonials benefit.

That kick and Mike Catt’s punt to the heavens heralded the biggest release of emotion in my life and an hour of dancing and singing in the stands. Father and son hugged like we used to when he was small, and we hugged a few strangers too. He got a kiss from the woman sitting behind him but she forgot about me. The rain continued but we didn’t care and the journey back to the city was charged with elation and happiness as we witnessed the desolation of the Aussies. I even managed to buy a programme off one of them at a reasonable price but others wanted $50 or more for them.

We enjoyed a Chinese meal with a crowd of All Blacks outside under an umbrella as they taunted all the passing Australians. The highlight of the meal was when Rory Underwood chose the same place to dine. At 3am we went in search of a taxi, gave up and walked about two miles back to our hotel in the rain. I didn’t sleep a wink and was across the road buying papers at 7am. What joy to see them have to eat every word they had printed in the previous week and surprising to see how humble they were and agreeing that the best team won. The England shirts stayed on all day until we watched the game on TV that evening in a pub. We still cheered when England won again! I was worried almost as much as the first time live.

The Aussies staged and ran a wonderful tournament, the organisation of transport, refreshments and crowd control were beyond anything I have ever experienced. I never queued more than 5 minutes to get a beer or food inside or outside the stadium even at the height of the celebrations. Twickers take note and learn how to do it. 82,947 people inside and another 10,000 or so outside watching on big screens were fed and watered with no pushing or shoving and all were transported back to the city with military precision on trains that ran every 4 minutes and hundreds of buses. In the city itself several venues were established with very big screens for crowds to watch the games free of charge. The party was enormous and successful. Well done Australia. Roll on France in 2007……….

I’ve already booked for Rome next year taking the better half for Valentine’s Day,(just don’t tell her yet what the real reason is!!) so I can get a recharge of adrenaline and something to look forward to over the next couple of months. Come on you Quins, make this year something even more special.