Cometh the hour cometh Brad Thorn. Big bad Brad - welcome back. You have been missed. Angry Brad storming all over Eden Park like it was his private estate - what a sight. Fired up Brad smashing into things that buckled in his wake - magnificent.
There we were wondering, carrying this little bit of doubt that the All Black veteran might have hit empty, and then he erupts. Extinct? Nope, he'd just been lying dormant and of all the heroic figures to emerge from the semi-final, his resurrection was maybe the most heart-warming.
The All Black scrum was a vicious beast of a thing. Owen Franks and Tony Woodcock were in the mood. Really in the mood. But behind them the horse power came from Thorn. No one would have wanted to be tangled in the All Black machinery when it was operating like that. Stick a hand in there and you could lose. Certainly whenever the Wallabies stuck the ball in there they lost it and was there a more inspiring moment than Thorn roaring the crowd on after a huge black wave had engulfed the Wallabies. Who didn't know then that the job was all but done?
Who didn't have just a little premature moment that the World Cup was not only here - it would be staying here?
What must the Wallabies - a seriously brave and enterprising Wallabies at that - have thought when they saw the All Black lock - his forearms as big as roast hams - pumping into the Auckland night?