Rugby Union: Eales wriggles out of England's grasp

England 11 Australia 1

WITHOUT BEING remotely disrespectful to one of the greatest forwards ever to grace this unforgiving game, it would be reassuring to think that John Eales conceals some sort of character defect beneath that impenetrably nice exterior of his. Why? Because if Australia's captain is not suffering from a Barry Manilow fixation, or a history of household pet abuse, or some serious problem with his personal hygiene, he really must be as perfect as his Test performances suggest. In which case, we might as well give up rugby and go surfing instead.

The things Eales accomplished in the midst of a desperate conflict at Twickenham on Saturday would have defied belief had we not seen him produce the self-same goods on a dozen previous occasions. It is impossible to exaggerate the majesty of a player who can call all the shots, push in every scrummage, jump in every line-out, hit every ruck, make every tackle and then, with four minutes left on the clock, and with his screaming muscles threatening unilateral strike action, kick a 46-metre penalty to win the tightest of matches by a single point. "The bugger never even looked like missing," said Clive Woodward, the England coach, in awe-struck admiration.

Graham Mourie, that magnificent All Black captain of the late 1970s, once explained his own near obsession with physical conditioning thus: "I want to reach a stage where, no matter how extreme the demands on my body, I can think with absolute clarity." Eales is the Mourie doctrine made flesh. With his Wallabies standing at the point of no return, his brain somehow fooled the rest of him into believing the previous 76 minutes of snarling, churning, exhausting Test rugby had not occurred. It was sporting self-hypnosis on the grandest of scales.

Not surprisingly, Eales was well chuffed with himself later the same evening and, just for a moment, let slip his mask of bland, non-committal amiability to allow a rare glimpse of a deeper, more intriguing private world. "It's what you dream about as a kid, isn't it? You chuck a ball around in your garden and imagine you're Dusty Hare, kicking the winning goal in a Twickenham Test." So how does a player, in particular a second row forward with dwindling lung-power and two raw slabs of meat where his shoulder blades used to be, set about doing the business for his country? Suddenly, the mask was back in place. "You just clear your mind and go through the routine you always follow."

Quite straightforward, then? Ask Mike Catt how straightforward it is. The aura of inevitability surrounding that final penalty shot had been conspicuous by its absence five minutes earlier when England's most frustratingly incomplete playmaker lined up his conversion of Jeremy Guscott's solitary try, a kick to take his team safely out of range of Eales' right boot and, more likely than not, secure a first victory over major southern hemisphere opposition in three and a half years. Predictably enough, Catt's weak connection sent the ball sliding across the face of the posts. "Was it crucial? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking at the scoreboard and thinking how much easier it would be to win the match with a penalty rather than a try," Eales admitted. "It kept the door open for us."

And in the Wallabies marched, to deliver another sickening blow to the solar plexus of English rugby. When Woodward, Lawrence Dallaglio and the rest of the red rose hierarchy pick over the carcass of an undramatic yet strangely absorbing exercise in trench warfare, they will realise that for all the positives - the all-weather expertise of their back row, the successful reinvention of Tim Rodber as a lock of Test quality, the iron defence that denied the most dangerous threequarters in the world the satisfaction of a single try - they still have a distance to travel in pursuit of World Cup aspirations.

Dallaglio's forwards can unquestionably go toe to toe and eyeball to eyeball with the best packs around, both inside and outside the law; not even Eales could wholly subdue Rodber at the line-out and if Patricio Noriega showed Richard Cockerill a clean pair of fists at an outbreak of hostilities - the Argentinian was in danger of carrying out substantial improvements to the Leicester hooker's looks - Martin Johnson generally ruled the roost in the rough and tumble. But England's problems do not concern survival. They can survive pretty much anywhere. The "W" word - winning - is the real headache and it is fast developing into a migraine.

England have too many bit-part journeymen at outside-half and not enough Oliviers or Gielguds. Stephen Larkham, on the other hand, appears completely at home with any script you care to throw at him. And when the rangy stand- off from Canberra started to run the show in the second half with his loping raids and slide-rule angles, he succeeded both in bringing the dangerous best out of Jason Little and Joe Roff and in exposing his opponents' helter-skelter attacking technique as so much pie in the sky.

Woodward is all too aware of the failings at No 10. "I'm absolutely convinced that the way to beat these big southern hemisphere sides is to put a faster side on the pitch and in many ways, I think we accomplished that," he said. "But if your pack is still having to go backwards to recycle its own ball, all the pace in the world won't get you out of the mire." In other words, show him an all-round footballer at outside-half and he will show you a team of genuine trophy hunters.

Still, we should be thankful for small mercies. We will not hear too much more from these Australians on the evils of reductive, one-dimensional rugby; not after watching them pull every trick in the manual to slow the game to a standstill during the first 40 minutes. They were aided and abetted by Paul Honiss, the New Zealand referee, whose determination to explain every decision in triplicate might have qualified him for a main part in Waiting for Godot. "We tried a few quick tapped penalties, but he was having none of it," said Dallaglio, before adding: "At least he kept up with play." Of course he did. Thanks to Honiss, the play didn't go anywhere.

"We're not going to apologise for winning the game," said Rod Macqueen, the Wallaby coach, in answer to a couple of leading questions about his side's contribution. "We came here without some leading players and produced a mature performance, even though we were restricted to 30 per cent ball in the first half. We'll take something out of it, for sure." Namely, the Cook Cup, a trophy so far untouched by English hands. Not for the first time, Woodward has outreached his grasp.

England: Try Guscott; Penalties Catt 2. Australia: Penalties Eales 4.

England: M Perry (Bath); T Underwood (Newcastle), J Guscott (Bath), P de Glanville (Bath), A Healey (Leicester); P Grayson (Northampton), M Dawson (Northampton); J Leonard (Harlequins), R Cockerill (Leicester), D Garforth (Leicester), M Johnson (Leicester), T Rodber (Northampton), L Dallaglio (Wasps, capt), R Hill (Saracens), N Back (Leicester).

Replacement: M Catt (Bath) for Grayson, 32.

Australia: C Latham (Queensland); J Little (Queensland), D Herbert (Queensland), N Grey (New South Wales), J Roff (ACT); S Larkham (ACT), G Gregan (ACT); P Noriega (ACT), P Kearns (New South Wales), A Blades (New South Wales), T Bowman (New South Wales), J Eales (Queensland, capt), M Cockbain (Queensland), T Kefu (Queensland), D Wilson (Queensland).

Replacements: M Foley (Queensland) for Kearns, 45; O Finegan (ACT) for Cockbain, 50.

Referee: P Honiss (New Zealand).