Over the years, the game of rugby has seen many fantastic tries. From Andy Hancock’s 85 yard dash to snatch a draw from the jaws of defeat, to Philippe Saint-Andre’s own piece of Twickenham magic in 1991 voted Twickenham’s try of the century, and of course via ‘that try’ scored by Gareth Edwards in the opening minutes of the 1973 New Zealand-Barbarians match, we don’t even have to delve into the reams of amazing tries at club level to experience a vast cavalcade of sporting excellence and excitement when it comes to crossing the whitewash. And this has got me thinking; what is the recipe for the perfect try? The ideal, the pinnacle, the best, most exciting and most exquisite possible way to to touch down for five points?
Well, it seems logical to start at the beginning, the try’s inception. To me, a try should start from humble beginnings, a state where the crowd are not excited, and then build to a fantastic crescendo of joy and amazement; so our start point should be humble as well. The job of our first play is to prick the crowd’s attention, to give us the first sniff of something to happen, to offer potential to a situation where, apparently, nothing is on. Surprisingly few situations on a rugby field can offer such innocuous beginnings, but one slightly unusual example was to be found in the buildup to Chris Ashton’s famous try against Australia at Twickenham two years ago; Australia were on the offensive, but England won a turnover ruck. The pressure eased off; now, surely, England would kick it safe. A brief moment of innocuousness, before Ben Youngs spotted a gap.
But the classic in this situation, and the spawn of many a great try, is the moment of receiving a long kick. Here, again, we expect a responding kick, and thus have our period of disinterest before the step and run that begins our try. It was such a reception from Phil Bennett, along with two lovely sidesteps, that precipitated Gareth Edwards’ 1973 try, and I think this may prove the ideal starting point for my try.
Now, to the midsection of this try, which should be fast and fluid. Defender after defender should come and be beaten; and although many a good try has been scored with a ruck halfway through it, the best are uninterrupted start to finish as we build and build both tension and excitement. Here, the choice to begin by receiving a kick plays in our favour, since this naturally produces multiple staggered waves of defenders to beat one at a time as we advance up the pitch. Another key feature for success during this period is variety, for this is when a team shows off its full breadth of skill; possibly the only flaw with the 1973 special is that all defenders are beaten by simple passing. By contrast, Saint-Andre’s try featured everything from slick passing through individual speed and skilful running, capped by a lovely chip to finish things off; it is vitally important that a kick is not utilised too early, where it may slow the try’s pacing. A bit of skill during the kick collection itself helps too, adding a touch of difficulty and class to the move whilst also giving a moment of will he/won’t he tension to really crank it up; every little helps in the search for perfection. A good example of a properly good kick collection occurred in the Super 15 recently, with a sublime one handed pickup on the bounce for Julian Savea as he ran in for the 5 points. For my try, I think we’ll have a bit of everything; a sneaky sidestep or two, some pace to beat a defender on the wing, a bit of outrageous ambition (through-the-legs pass would work well, I think), some silky hands and a nice kick to finish things off; a crossfield would work nicely, I feel.
And the finish, the finish- a crucial and yet under-considered element to any great try. For a try to feel truly special, to reach it’s crowning crescendo, the eventual try scorer must have a good run-in to finish the job. It needn’t be especially long, but prior to the touchdown all the great tries have that moment where everybody knows that the score is about to come- the moment of release that means, when the touchdown does eventually come, our emotions are ones of joy at the moment rather than relief that he’s got it down. However, such an ending does not follow naturally from a crossfield kick, as I have chosen to include in my try, so there will need to be one finishing touch to allow a run in.
Well, we have all the ingredients ready, now to face the final product. So everyone reading this, I invite you to sit back, fill your mind with a stadium and a team, and let Cliff Morgan’s dulcet tones fill your ears with my own little theoretical contribution to the pantheon of rugby greatness:
(I have chosen for my try to be scored in the 2003 World Cup final for England against Australia, or at the least using the teams that finished that match because… well why the hell not?)
“And Robinson collects the kick, deep in his 22… Roff with the chase… Oh, and the step from Robinson, straight past Roff and off he goes… Steps inside, around Smith, this is great stuff from Robinson… and the tackle comes in from Waugh- but a cracking offload and Greenwood’s away up the wing! Greenwood, to Back, flick to Catt… Catt’s over the halfway line, but running into traffic… the pop to Dallaglio, and *oof*! What a hit there, straight through Harrison! Nice pop, back to Greenwood, it’s Greenwood on Larkham… the long pass, out to Cohen on the left… Cohen going for the ball, under pressure from Flatley- and oh, that’s fantastic, through the legs, to Wilkinson! Wilkinson over the 22, coming inside, can he get round Rogers? Wilkinson the golden boy… Oh, the kick! Wilkinson, with the crossfield kick to Lewsey! It’s Lewsey on Tuqiri, in the far corner, Lewsey jumps… Lewsey takes, Lewsey passes to Robinson! What a score!- Lewsey with the midair flick, inside to Robinson, and it’s Robinson over for the try! Robinson started the move, and now he has finished with quite the most remarkable try! What a fantastic score…”
OK, er, sorry about that, I’ll try to be less self-indulgent next time.