The rise of Stacey Jones began at the World Cup. Photo / Photosport
Chris Rattue was there in 1995, at the tournament that was the genesis for the modern Rugby League World Cup.
The late 1990s were tumultuous times for rugby league, but the turmoil gave a troubled birth to what is shaping as the best of all World Cups this year.
A game dominated for decades by France, Great Britain and Australia — with the often underperforming Kiwis trying to knock on the door — was reimagined at the 1995 World Cup.
Over the past five years, players — in particular Tonga's Jason Taumalolo — have inspired a revolution which has given much needed life to test rugby league.
Aucklander Taumalolo's dissatisfaction with his place in David Kidwell's Kiwis and a desire to honour his Tongan heritage combined to launch a still-growing Pacific league movement, one which makes this tournament a fascinating prospect.
That 1995 tournament could be seen as the moment when the seeds were planted for this belated upheaval, seeds that will bear exciting fruit when the tournament takes place in England again over the coming weeks.
The 1995 World Cup opened with a bizarre choice of diva and — for me anyway — ended with an even stranger ride with the Queen.
It was typical rugby league fare, a lovable shambles of sorts, of good intentions entangled in a war between vicious media empires led by Aussie moguls.
For starters, the Great Britain concept — a mainstay of world league — was sacrificed in the name of expansion from within, as Scotland, Ireland and a Welsh side bolstered by union converts took part alongside the powerful English squad. Most importantly, Tonga, Samoa and Fiji made their entrance.
There was also league's typical, often humorous trawling of the world map in the name of alleged expansion. In this case, the tournament included a hopeless South African team that was parked alongside Australia and England in the group of needlessly grotesque death.
But the real action was taking place behind the scenes, as league's Super League war erupted, meaning players aligned to Rupert Murdoch's News Limited teams were shunned for this World Cup, and Australia fielded a weakened side made up of only Australian Rugby League-contracted players who were backed by Kerry Packer's media conglomerate.
Organisers did their best to give the tournament a bizarre opening, with the legendary singer Diana Ross the star turn at Wembley Stadium.
It didn't seem particularly league-ish, as the American diva was carted off in a vintage Rolls Royce, after what had to be described as a budget opening ceremony. Why was the Motown superstar chosen? Your guess is as good as mine, although she had created worldwide headlines a year earlier by missing the opening penalty at the Fifa World Cup in Chicago.
One game and one kick at the 1995 World Cup will always live in my memory.
A good Tongan team, coached by former Kiwi fullback and St Helens coach Mike McClennan, almost beat the Kiwis in the group stage at Warrington. This is probably the greatest league match I have covered, alongside Auckland's victory over Australia at Carlaw Park in 1989.
The atmosphere at Warrington was off the charts, and English journalists — who are used to stirring atmospheres in their league strongholds — raved about the occasion.
Tonga were captained by the ex-Kiwi Duane Mann, a Warrington club favourite, and that alone helped dictate the crowd's loyalties.
The scene was set by the opposing war dances, and a ferocious game ensued at the dilapidated stadium.
As the Tongans threatened to score a shock victory, the atmosphere rose to remarkable heights, and there was a fittingly dramatic conclusion.
The Tongans were hurt by an incorrect tackle count at the death, while the Kiwis were saved by a left-footed Matthew Ridge field goal as they overcame a 12 point deficit in the final seven minutes.
I will never forget that night of nights, the only shame being that league did not learn a lesson in that ramshackle Wilderspool arena.
The game has only just recently stumbled onto some new test magic, being forced by player power to understand what the NRL has spawned in the Pacific region.
Unfortunately, the Kiwis fell to Australia in their 1995 semifinal, played at Huddersfield. Ridge, one of the greatest kickers in league history, mis-hit a sideline conversion attempt which could have nailed a Kiwi victory, and they suffered an extra time defeat in a terrific game of turning fortunes.
The tournament has left eclectic memories.
There was the bizarre sight of Kiwi legend Gary Freeman sitting on a bus in protest as his teammates trained, upset missing selection as Stacey Jones began his phenomenal rise.
It was possibly at the same training that Kiwi manager Gordon Gibbons offered to make up the numbers and ran the ball back at a kickoff routine, only to be poleaxed for his troubles by prop John Lomax, father of current All Black frontrower Tyrel. It's funny what sticks in the memory.
Ironically, considering the game was being fought over by media magnates, the tournament was poorly covered on mainstream television, while the subscription rights had been sold to a company that — as one English journo put it to me — served a couple of cul-de-sacs in St Helens.
Some things never change.
Australian coach Bob Fulton, a strong contender for the most unlikeable character I ever met in sport, launched an outrageous outburst against referee boss Greg McCallum after Australia's semifinal victory over the Kiwis.
When a shocking cold left me behind as journalist mates headed to a game in Wales, the BBC came a calling, filming an interview after Kiwi hooker Syd Eru had tested positive to pseudoephedrine. I looked as bad as Eru no doubt felt, his ban persuading coach Frank Endacott to place the grumpy Freeman at hooker.
There was the delight of watching a game at a half-refurbished Old Trafford, where there was no toll bar on the phones. That was always a major bonus in an age when primitive laptops sent copy down phone lines.
There was also the joy of meeting English league supporters, a breed apart who love the game with warmth and passion.
The memory also vividly recalls a game at Wigan's Central Park, where the steam rose off the crowd creating an atmosphere that looked like a trip back in time, as the Tannoy announced "Mr Billy Boston would like to locate Mr Tom van Vollenhoven" at a certain meeting point. (Boston was a Wigan try-scoring legend in the 1950/60s, South Africa's van Vollenhoven being the same at St Helens.)
The crowd cheered that announcement.
Having lost the opening game at Wembley to the hosts, Australia — with Andrew Johns the star — did what they usually do, and beat England at the famous north London stadium in the final.
A final surprise waited at the airport.
Hopes of a seating upgrade evaporated, as the counter staff revealed Queen Elizabeth II would be on the flight to New Zealand, her first venture onto such long-haul public transport.
Lines of security people from around the world greeted the passengers, and a box cutter was confiscated from my cabin baggage as a security risk.
I scoffed at the time, yet six years later the 9/11 hijackers used the same sort of instrument to help wreak devastation in the United States. So those little blades were known to be an airline security risk all along. Security men filled the rows ahead of us, continually scanning, with weapons presumably ready under coats. Their presence made for an edgy flight.
From soul royalty to the actual Queen, the 1995 World Cup had been a memorable ride.
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