Rugby League: Easy money for the exhibitionists

Andrew Longmore sees Australia slip into overdrive to leave Britain out of sight

Great Britain did not have to wait for the Fat Lady to sing at Wembley yesterday. A belting rendition of "Advance Australia Fair", delivered by a lady of ample girth and well-muscled tonsils, portended the home team's fate just before kick-off. By the end of the first quarter, the doubts had all but gone. A summer's worth of humiliation at the hands of the Canberra Raiders, the Cronulla Sharks, the Penrith Fairies and a host of mighty Australian League teams seemed about to be translated into one final climactic embarrassment.

Two tries, the first by the incomparable Australian captain, Laurie Daley, the second by one of the new generation, Craig Gower, had reduced the flimsily constructed hopes of the morning to mid-afternoon rubble. Notions of a contest were quickly sidestepped for more significant questions: could the Wembley scoreboard accommodate three figures and just how good is the new wonderkid Darren Lockyer? We sat back to enjoy an exhibition. So did the Australians.

Sensing easy money at the end of a long, hard year, the Aussies began to experiment, forgetting that even the best cannot take liberties with sport. A flashy behind-the-back pass missed its man, to ironic jeers, and Britain, who had barely explored their opponent's half in the opening 20 minutes, joyfully exploited the complacency.

Two tries in three minutes, the chief culprit, one Darren Lockyer, the young Australian regarded by many veterans as potentially the best of a handsome lineage of full-backs. Momentarily wrong-footed by a Bobbie Goulding grubber kick, Lockyer overran the ball and allowed Jason Robinson to score behind his back. Two minutes later, James Lowes angled through the remnants of the Australian defence to prompt renewed life. It was not just the sun dipping below the West Stand which made you blink. The scoreboard read Great Britain 14, Australia 10. Cue a shift of the gearstick and acceleration over the horizon.

By full-time, all the old shibboleths about the gap between the northern and southern hemispheres, trotted out every time the Aussies strut their stuff, rang truer than ever. We were here two years ago when the first rumblings of Super League were abroad and a try by Jonathan Davies set up a thrilling series. We were here well before then, marvelling at the instinctive support play of the Australians, their ability to run the ball from every conceivable angle and promising that next time all that would be ours. Yet all Super League has done is magnify the prosaic nature of the British game.

The shame of a subdued occasion at Wembley yesterday was that players of the class of Daley, Andrew Ettingshausen and Lockyer, some of the best rugby players of either code in the world, will sneak in and out of the country before the curtains are up, a fag-end of the season casualty of the new commercial super order. Rather than advertising their romantic invincibility with a series of crushing victories over club sides, this Aussie team will play three Tests and go home with handsome pay packets but little character. Remember the '97 Australians? Er, no.

Long before the end, many of the 41,000 crowd had begun to head for home. Presumably their thoughts were full of Daley's hat-trick of tries, scored with arrogant ease, and the breathtaking change of pace and slick passing which characterised the sixth of Australia's seven tries, scored by Darren Smith. Britain had nothing but heart to offer in return. And they showed plenty of that. The terrifying thought is that this was only the skimmed milk of Australian rugby league. The cream is still back at home.