THE simple fact is the Wallabies are a better rugby team than England.
There is now just the minor and somewhat inconvenient matter of having to go out tonight in Marseille and prove it.
If only World Cup semi-final berths were awarded on style and humour and good intent, the Wallabies already would be booked into their Parisian hotel, checking out the Impressionists at the Musee d'Orsay and working out, over a cafe creme, how to make a good impression at their next press conference while managing to innocently slip the word "choke" into proceedings.
The poor English, bumblers that they are, have fallen short throughout this tournament on all three criteria: style and humour and most definitely good intent.
They were dreadful against the US, beyond dreadful against the Springboks and so pathetically grateful to have seen off Samoa and Tonga that even Australians found themselves feeling embarrassed for them.
In the space of a few short weeks, England has gone from swaggering to staggering and now, with its last roll of the dice, the best it can come up with to defeat Australia is to pick a pack of bully boys and an endearingly earnest five-eighth who doesn't kick heads but goals instead.
Four years ago, the English wore the belt of world heavyweight champions and were floating on air. Now it forces them down like a lead weight and they can't wait to rid themselves of the damn thing.
The English are just not cut out to be world champions. They have so little experience of sporting success that when it happens, it leaves them drained and exhausted. Rugby World Cup 2003, Ashes 2005.
Even as Martin Johnson and Michael Vaughan were holding aloft their spoils of victory, their arms were getting tired. The load was too heavy, the weight of expectation too great. Best to lay down their burden and rest quietly for a while.
The Wallabies would gladly take the Webb Ellis Cup off their hands. In truth, it belongs to them, but, good sports that they are, they've been willing to share it over the years and didn't even demand first go.
That's how New Zealand happened to come by it in 1987, but then in 1991 it was returned to Australia, who allowed South Africa to hold it for a while, took it back again in 1999 before, charitably, giving England a feel. Now, as John Eales points out, it's Australia's turn again.
But they're a proud and stubborn lot, these English, and hanging on like grim death is what they do better than anything else. And as unseemly as it is going to be for the Wallabies to have to wrench the Cup from their grasp, that's precisely what they need to do at Stade Velodrome tonight.
The Stade, at it happens, already features prominently in England's World Cup history, though not in a way decent Englishmen would treasure.
It was there, in the wake of England's 2-0 victory over Tunisia in that other World Cup in 1998, that scuffles between rival supporters erupted into street warfare that left 35 people hospitalised, one with a serious knife wound, and 50 hooligans in jail. There will be none of that tonight. Whatever else they might be, Waltzing Matilda and Sweet Chariot aren't exactly blood-curdling battle anthems.
No, if there's a pitched battle to be fought, it will be done inside the white paint and marginally within the rules.
Australia and England know the etiquette. They have done this 34 times before, 20 times to Australia's satisfaction, and almost invariably in a way that has reinforced the necessary cliches about England being heavy, old, and lumbering and Australia sprightly, young and adventurous.
That's how it is shaping again tonight, although one senses a historic adjustment in the Wallabies' methods. Where in the past they were obliged to use hit-and-run tactics, tonight, boasting a scrum that even rival flanker Lewis Moody concedes may be the strongest Australia has assembled, they will engage England head-on.
That's not to say that's all they will do. There is considerably more to this Australian side than muscle. But the belief within the camp is that beyond the bully boys and Wilkinson, England doesn't have much at all.
Hence, the quickest and most effective way of defeating England is to confront its two great strengths and nullify them.
Sounds simple. And if the Wallabies are anywhere near to achieving their often-stated aim of having the best pack in world rugby, they could indeed do the business tonight with considerable audacity and some alacrity.
Of course, with Australia it's never that simple. They are like messy teenagers, these Wallabies. They never put anything away, least of all the opposition.
Where the All Blacks and Springboks go for the throat, the Wallabies go off for a cuppa, only coming back to play when the score gets interesting again. But that's a dangerous game against England. There might be only so much you can do with a nasty, big pack and a goalkicking genius, but one thing that's possible is winning a World Cup quarter-final.
Picture this: the early flow of penalties from Alain Rolland goes England's way.
Wilkinson gets the scoreboard ticking, always in multiples of three, building the lead to, say, 12-3. At this point, he switches from kicking to the posts to kicking to the corners and from an attacking lineout deep in Australian territory, the heavy, old, lumbering England forwards summon up enough energy to propel a driving maul over the tryline.
Now it is 19-3 and even though the Wallabies twice this season have won from 17-0 down, this time they are playing catch-up against a side raging against the dying of the light. England might only have one good fight left in it, but what if this is it?
Early tournament form counts for nothing. The Wallabies know that better than anyone because, like England this time, they wallowed through the early rounds of the 2003 World Cup. As it was, they only managed to win their pool four years ago by a single point, 17-16 over Ireland. But then, when it counted, they came good. As could England tonight.
That's what's keeping John Connolly lying awake at night. That, or plotting his next practical joke.
He was giggling like a schoolboy, the Wallabies coach, after leaving yesterday's press conference all abuzz with his parting shot about the need for Rolland to ensure England hooker Mark Regan didn't overstep the mark tonight.
Later, tracked down to where he was having his sixth coffee of the day, Connolly was asked whether Regan was overstepping the mark merely in a figurative sense or whether the Wallabies were following up on Springboks coach Jake White's complaint that Regan steps into the field of play illegally while feeding the lineout.
"Does he do that?" Connolly asked, snatching a sip and a quick breather between chuckles. "Well, in that case, both -- figurative and literal."
Later, when England coach Brian Ashton dithered over naming a replacement for late casualty Farrell, Connolly decided to help him out, announcing that Olly Barkley was the best man for the job. Barkley, who put in three happy, wacky seasons with Bath under Connolly's coaching, rolled his eyes when told the enemy coach had selected him. "Knuckles," he sighed.
Stirling Mortlock would have known exactly what Barkley meant. "He does like his little jokes, Knuckles," deadpanned the Wallabies captain.
Yet, as usual, there's method to Connolly's mayhem. He's making sure his players stay relaxed because he knows that as desperately as England will fight tonight, the Wallabies are the better side.
Now there's just that minor, inconvenient matter of proving it.
It's reporting like that which make so many people dislike then Aussie press.This pile of shite is from THE AUSTRALIAN.