South Africa's Franco Mostert, left, and England's Brad Shields having a scuffle during the second rugby test match between South Africa and England in Bloemfontein, South Africa. Photo / AP
South Africa's Franco Mostert, left, and England's Brad Shields having a scuffle during the second rugby test match between South Africa and England in Bloemfontein, South Africa. Photo / AP
Down, down, down do England go, gasping for air at altitude and flailing throughout this 23-12 loss to South Africa, a shattered and spent force.
There were new starting faces in Brad Shields and auld acquaintances in Danny Cipriani but the failings were the same: patchy, slipshod, ill-disciplined play thatallowed the Springboks to gather themselves from another dozy start when they conceded two tries but England had neither the muscle nor the cleverness to take advantage. Instead, Shields revealed himself as no more than another toiler in white while the die was cast long before Cipriani stripped off his tracksuit for his first appearance in three years.
England are stuck in a time warp, approaching the serious World Cup countdown with little identity and a diminishing reputation. It has been a salutary experience for them on the High Veld where they have been well and truly trumped by what is a raw Springbok side, still taking shape.
A chastened England squad gathered themselves in a huddle at the end but the time for defiant words alone is long past.
Eddie Jones had billed this as a "World Cup semifinal dress-rehearsal". In that context, his well-resourced regime is delivering no more than that of Stuart Lancaster. The England head coach is under pressure.
Everyone knew it would take more for Shields to feel at home in an England shirt than passing reference to the "teaspoons on the wall and chip butties on a Sunday afternoon", at his grandparents' houses in Essex and Yorkshire that he claimed as evidence of his bona-fide heritage.
The Hurricanes captain needed to flex some muscle, shed some blood for the cause for him to believe that he truly belonged and for his new teammates to trust him instinctively. A passport will give you name, rank and number: a full-bore, sweat-flecked, no-holds-barred contribution on the pitch brooked no doubt about a man's commitment.
Shields' parents, Nigel and Danielle, had flown from London to see their son belt out the anthem and go on to do his stuff that he previously had only played out against a New Zealand backdrop. They themselves had returned to their England roots: now their boy was following suit. The only way, though, in which Shields was going to quell the disquiet around his Usain Bolt-type fast-tracking into England colours was to make a statement on his first start.
Shields has perfect claim on qualifying to play, yet the unease is legitimate. Jones made a point of accommodating him as much for his leadership as for his playing skills. The 27-year-old is a hard-nosed blindside forward, yet no more or no less than a Chris Robshaw in form. On this showing, he is no game-shaper or breaker. The Springbok back row, with Duane Vermeulen on the clatter and Siya Kolisi riding shotgun to great effect, looked different class, the Springbok captain driving Shields back five metres at one point.
At a time when the Rugby Football Union is under duress, with 40 redundancies imminent in the rugby department, there was urgent need for connection to all that England represented. Some who had worked hard to develop players would have their reservations about Shields' arrival in their midst. This performance will have done little to lower those raised eyebrows.
