After a long time of not playing good rugby - including at the start of the World Cup where they were thrashed 36-0 by South Africa - England are finally, at the perfect moment, playing like the World Champions that they are. Has the English rugby beast, which won 15 out of 16 friendly games in 2003 in the run up to that year's World Cup which it won (the only defeat was to France and that was when England fielded a weakened team and even then they lost by just one point) been reawoken?
Everybody is scared of the English beast
Jeff Powell
15th October 2007
Daily Mail
Did South Africa's 36-0 victory over World Champions England in the Group Stage of the World Cup reawaken the English rugby beast?
BE-HE-MOTH: Primal, unconquerable monster; His strength is in his loins, his force in the navel of his belly; His bones are like bars of iron - The Book of Job
England's players celebrate their victory over France in the World Cup Semi Final on Saturday putting them into their second successive World Cup Final
No wonder France ran scared of the ravenous England pack instead of running with the ball.
The Behemoths have descended on Paris and the City of Light will cower in darkness until the pillage and the rampage come to an end next Saturday night.
Whatever it was that roused this beast from the swamp in which it is said to live - be it that evening of humiliation when surprised in its stupor by the South African Springbok or by the jibes of its tormentors - the rest of the world of rugby has come to regret the reawakening.
The French have joined the Australians in being dragged under screaming, by Messrs Vickery, Sheridan, Regan, Shaw, Kay, Corry, Moody, Worsley, Stevens, Chuter and Dallaglio - behemoths by any other name.
Dead-Eye Jonny finished them off but it was the giant forwards who tore the hearts out of two of the favourites to wrest the World Cup from England's grasp.
This is not rugby, this is war waged in the terrifying depths of Middle Earth.
This is not a brutal game transported into a thing of beauty on the wings of flair and imagination.
This is the black art of winning ugly, achieved by a roaring, snarling, frothing return to the dark ages of sport.
Suddenly the oval ball is a symbol of not only Middle England but Mediaeval England.
Ugly Blighty? We don't care.
Because this has become, also, the art of the impossible. A few short weeks ago England were condemned as the worst defending champions in the annals of any World Cup. Now the monster has risen and it is time to be afraid. Very afraid.
Large forwards who had been shuffling towards their doom have grown into giants and Brian Ashton - the head coach who made his name as a conductor of lightning backs - has settled simply for letting his Behemoths loose on all who stand in their path.
Jason Robinson ran for his final glory and Jonny Wilkinson operated the guillotine but the sacking of the Stade de France was done by that beast within the English that never admits defeat, which fights to the last man, which embraces adversity as a motivating ally in the battle against all odds.
While soccer today contemplates all the unflattering comparisons being made with rugby, it might pause to consider that this was the spirit which moved its own teams of yore.
Legend has it that Behemoth, the primal monster of the land, and Leviathan, the primal monster of the sea, shall do battle come the end of the world.
Roll on Saturday night.
dailymail.co.uk
Everybody is scared of the English beast
Jeff Powell
15th October 2007
Daily Mail
Did South Africa's 36-0 victory over World Champions England in the Group Stage of the World Cup reawaken the English rugby beast?
BE-HE-MOTH: Primal, unconquerable monster; His strength is in his loins, his force in the navel of his belly; His bones are like bars of iron - The Book of Job
England's players celebrate their victory over France in the World Cup Semi Final on Saturday putting them into their second successive World Cup Final
No wonder France ran scared of the ravenous England pack instead of running with the ball.
The Behemoths have descended on Paris and the City of Light will cower in darkness until the pillage and the rampage come to an end next Saturday night.
Whatever it was that roused this beast from the swamp in which it is said to live - be it that evening of humiliation when surprised in its stupor by the South African Springbok or by the jibes of its tormentors - the rest of the world of rugby has come to regret the reawakening.
The French have joined the Australians in being dragged under screaming, by Messrs Vickery, Sheridan, Regan, Shaw, Kay, Corry, Moody, Worsley, Stevens, Chuter and Dallaglio - behemoths by any other name.
Dead-Eye Jonny finished them off but it was the giant forwards who tore the hearts out of two of the favourites to wrest the World Cup from England's grasp.
This is not rugby, this is war waged in the terrifying depths of Middle Earth.
This is not a brutal game transported into a thing of beauty on the wings of flair and imagination.
This is the black art of winning ugly, achieved by a roaring, snarling, frothing return to the dark ages of sport.
Suddenly the oval ball is a symbol of not only Middle England but Mediaeval England.
Ugly Blighty? We don't care.
Because this has become, also, the art of the impossible. A few short weeks ago England were condemned as the worst defending champions in the annals of any World Cup. Now the monster has risen and it is time to be afraid. Very afraid.
Large forwards who had been shuffling towards their doom have grown into giants and Brian Ashton - the head coach who made his name as a conductor of lightning backs - has settled simply for letting his Behemoths loose on all who stand in their path.
Jason Robinson ran for his final glory and Jonny Wilkinson operated the guillotine but the sacking of the Stade de France was done by that beast within the English that never admits defeat, which fights to the last man, which embraces adversity as a motivating ally in the battle against all odds.
While soccer today contemplates all the unflattering comparisons being made with rugby, it might pause to consider that this was the spirit which moved its own teams of yore.
Legend has it that Behemoth, the primal monster of the land, and Leviathan, the primal monster of the sea, shall do battle come the end of the world.
Roll on Saturday night.
dailymail.co.uk