The Main Ingredient

Vancouver, BC. October 12, 2024.

It is a promoter’s dream, as the top tier 2025 Women’s Rugby tournament (WXV 1) comes to a close. The two best teams in the world meet head-to-head.

#1 vs #2. England vs Canada.

Both teams unbeaten, the Red Roses not only riding a 20-game win streak, but an astonishing 49 victories from 50 games over the past three years. Hot favourites to lift a coveted World Cup trophy in 2025. Canada also in outstanding form, fresh off a Pacific Four away triumph over powerhouse New Zealand several months ago. 

The game promises much. In terms of quality, excitement and commitment, it does not disappoint.

A loud, passionate BC Place crowd roars Canada on. The hosts start well, an early Justine Pelletier snipe opening the scoring. 5-0. England returns the favour, and converts. 5-7. Then pours on the pressure. Only a gritty Canadian defensive stand, players piling into rucks, scrambling, making tackle after tackle after tackle, keeps the deficit at two points.

Then the tide turns. Canada moves back on the offensive. Runners now hammer away inside the England quarter. The ball held up over the goal line all that keeps the hosts from taking the lead.

The second half begins. Canada immediately back on attack. Waves of ball carriers, slick offloads, lightning-fast recycling of possession, put England under the kosh. Desperate defenders infringe but can do nothing as home centre Alex Tessier scythes through untouched. 10-7, then 12-7 after the extras.

The fans in rapture, sensing, hoping. If anyone can beat England it is Canada. And if it is ever to happen, it is now.

More to come. A second England yellow card. Canada presses the advantage, seeks a game defining try. Alas, it is not to be, as a wonky lineout and some handling errors scupper a number of promising opportunities.

As befitting champions, having been handed a reprieve, England steady. Forces an error deep in the Canadian half. Pounds away at the line before finding pay dirt near the posts. With the try and conversion, again moves in front. 14-12. Only minutes remain.

Canada has one last chance for glory, but a strike move goes awry. England edges back up field, and, with the clock in the red, adds a clinching score through player of the game, Zoe Aldcroft. 21-12 final.

For the victors, smiles and happiness, perhaps tempered by relief. For the vanquished, some tears and a gnawing frustration, as a gilt-edged chance slips agonizingly away. But deservedly proud as well.

Regardless, even allowing for a number of mistakes and a handful of ill-advised decisions, I marvel at the skill, pace, power, and physicality, of both teams. The contest certainly reflects well on the growing and thoroughly merited popularity of women’s sport. These ladies can flat out play.

Most of all, I appreciate the obvious organization, fitness, and compete levels on display. The focus, the communication, the next play mentality. Coaches, back room staff, medics, work together diligently. Players support one another, cover up errors, put bodies on the line. Run to exhaustion, get back in line, do it all again and again. Rumble forward for every inch of territory. Acknowledge and celebrate each other’s successes.

Just the night before, October 11, I am privy to so many of the same themes.

BC Rugby holds an important annual event, with three former players and four builders inducted to the union’s Hall of Fame. For me, it is a chance to mingle, to take an inspiring trip back down memory lane, in a room packed with players and coaches of my vintage.

Indeed, the assembled throng includes many of a “who’s who” of the country’s elite from 1985 to 1995. Names such as de Goede, Rees, Evans, Tynan, Lecky, Breen, James, to mention just a few. The men’s national team in that decade a highly respected force on the international scene thanks in part to wins over Argentina, Scotland, England, Wales and France.

Add in a stirring victory over Toulouse, in 1986, by any measure, the most formidable club team in the world. Then a narrow, gutsy, gritty defeat to the vaunted New Zealand All Blacks in a fiercely contested 1991 World Cup quarterfinal.

While nearly forty years have passed, the bonds remain. Eyes lock. Quiet nods speak volumes, a tangible link as those involved recall some of the unforgettable moments. Toiling together, on the field, in the weight room, off the field. Any setbacks and disappointments taken in stride or shrugged off, soon replaced by thrilling wins.

The stories flow. Tall tales of daring, of courage, of heroic efforts. Eyes glisten. Hugs all round. Laughter and deep satisfaction remembering those magical days when preparation, passion and performance blended perfectly together.

Hours later, a wonderful evening winds to conclusion. I reflect on two different eras. Four decades apart. Different teams, some fully professional, some fully amateur. Yet, on so many levels, I note the unmistakable parallels, the same characteristics. Of sacrifice, of the lure and power of a national jersey. Of relentless work ethic and high standards. Of a deep desire to improve. Of a camaraderie bordering on love.

Inevitably, certain members of a group are highlighted, draw the plaudits, garner particular media attention. And that is OK.

Because all involved know the following to be absolutely true, not only in sport, but in all walks of life.

That with any personal recognition and success, any perceived stardom, any pure, unadulterated joy, the main ingredient has been, is, and always will be, the rest of the team.