Why Kiwis are in seven heaven

WE love a good flanker down here.

If there’s one position on the rugby field New Zealanders claim the patent for, it is the openside flanker. We basically invented the position. It’s ours — although it’s kind of yours as well.

It all comes back to Dave Gallaher, captain of the 1905 All Blacks, affectionately known as ‘The Originals’. They cut a swathe through the United Kingdom, losing just one match.

Gallaher’s role on the pitch, as a wing forward, was as mystifying to the rugby authorities as it was to opposing teams. By not attaching himself to a 2-3-2 scrum, Gallaher was said to have an unfair advantage and, indeed, the practice was banned in the 1930s.

“I must confess that the unfair criticism to which I have been subjected, while in Wales especially, has annoyed me,” he would write at the time.

Whether he attached himself to the scrum or not, Gallaher was the prototype of the kind of forward New Zealanders would learn to treasure: a nose-to-the-ground, ball-carrying, ball-snaffling forward. And although he was New Zealand-raised and died in 1917 fighting for the Empire at Passchendaele, he was born in Ramelton, Co Donegal (he is honoured even today at Letterkenny RFC, whose home ground is Dave Gallaher Memorial Park).

In the days since, those wearing the black seven jersey, the closest thing to a wing forward, have taken on exalted status.

From Waka ‘The Black Panther’ Nathan, through the cerebral Graham Mourie to the athletic Michael Jones, Josh Kronfeld and, of course, Richie McCaw, the openside flanker has remained close to our hearts.

But, what’s this? The best seven at this World Cup is not wearing black. Sorry Richie, but playing the whole year on one foot means you’re not even close. I suspect that even if you were playing on two your weary, 30-year-old bones would struggle to match the output of Sean O’Brien.

The best number seven at the tournament? How about the best player at the tournament.

Every week bar one he has made the New Zealand Herald’s team of the week. The one week he didn’t was after McCaw’s 100th Test cap against France. Sentimentality ruled the day.

Ireland had two big hurdles in Pool C — Australia and Italy. O’Brien was man of the match on both occasions. His performance against Australia was a one-man tour de force, which further endeared him to Kiwis. Yes, we love a good flanker, but we like those who put the beat on Australia even more.

The sight of an Irishman driving Aussies backwards and upwards, the sight of an Irishman dragging Wallaby defenders across the advantage line with him was enough to melt the coldest of hearts.

For older fans it was even a bit of belated payback. We’re still a little bitter over the concession of the last-minute try in the 1991 quarter-final at Lansdowne Road. If you fellas hadn’t allowed Michael Lynagh to stroll over in the corner so soon after Gordon Hamilton’s heroics, we reckon we might have added that World Cup to the 87 triumph. Thus, the collective angst of a nation wouldn’t be quite so acute every time this jamboree rolls around.

S O, without wanting to put so fine a point on it, Ireland owed not just themselves, but us a big performance against Australia. Job done.

The other thing about O’Brien is he doesn’t seem to play like a traditional number seven, like Pocock, Brussow and even Wales’ Warburton. The reason? Well, of course, he’s not a born seven. Their area of expertise remains the tackle area and the ability to turnover ball. O’Brien and McCaw, who used to be the ultimate turnover machine, can play on the ball, but it is not their raison d’etre. O’Brien’s strength is the advantage line or, in coach-speak, the gainline. Nobody at this World Cup has been as effective at carrying the ball beyond the gainline, or stopping the opposition behind it.

He’s a more natural six and can do eight with his eyes shut. O’Brien plays like a hybrid, capturing the essentials of eight, blindside and openside flank play. About the only thing missing is true lineout skills. You can’t haveeverything.

A sports writing colleague from the lower half of the world was shocked when he came face-to-face with O’Brien for the first time.

“He’s tiny,” he exclaimed, seemingly incredulous that something so good could come in such a small package.

Which is not even true. If the official World Cup handbook is accurate — and there are often reasons to doubt it — then O’Brien is 1cm taller and 1kg heavier than McCaw. Where my colleague was right, however, was that O’Brien plays a game that seems totally out of proportion with his frame. He doesn’t look like he should be capable of doing as much damage as he has.

Take my word for it when I say that we hope it continues for a couple more weeks yet. New Zealand hasn’t turned into a sea of green for nothing. We like the way Ireland are going about their business. And nobody has played a bigger part in that than the man in the most important jersey on the park — number seven.

*Dylan Cleaver is a senior sports writer for the New Zealand Herald.