Eight talking points from the Super Rugby final.
I can honestly say I told you so, but I was still wrong
Last week I wrote "I wouldn't mortgage the house, but the Crusaders have to be on shorter odds to win their third Super Rugby title in a row than finding
a Kiwibuild home going up in your street." And, of course they did win, 19-3. But what I hadn't dreamed was that the Jaguares, despite the 17 hours of travel, and the 15-hour time difference, would still provide infinitely more resistance than the Lions did in last year's final. In my heart of hearts I thought the Crusaders would romp home on Saturday night. There has been some beautiful rugby this year from the Crusaders, and some startlingly good tries. The final, on the other hand, was gritty and tough from the start, and called for a different approach. Fair play to a side that can get down in the trenches, as the Crusaders did, and win ugly when the occasion demands it.
Razor belongs amongst the giants
A constant delight over the last three years has been the electrifying, infectious, enthusiasm of Crusaders' coach Scott Robertson. He's also clear eyed, with a sense of humour often bubbling near the surface. So when he noted, with a smile, that in the hard won battle that was the final, "the rugby itself was very uneventful", it was at once entirely realistic, and charmingly self-effacing. Competitiveness in top level sport can easily morph into pomposity. You can bet the farm rating up there in the hallowed Crusaders coaching circle of Wayne Smith and Robbie Deans will not change Robertson's unique personality. (In passing he's really the one that rules all. Not only three successive wins as a coach. But also three titles as a player.)
That whirring sound was all departed Canterbury coaches spinning in their graves
The default setting for coaches in Christchurch over the years has been 'bloke'. Staunch, undemonstrative, and so stoic they treated victory and disaster the same. There were some exceptions, like university professor Sir James Stewart, an articulate intellectual, but by and large the template looked to the gruff and demanding. God knows what a lot of them would think of Robertson's exhilarating post-victory dance. But the only cheer as loud as the one that greeted Codie Taylor's try was when the Crusaders formed a circle, and Robertson stepped forward for a one man disco inferno.