The crunch decision making that turned the Springboks' tide

Was there ever a point where they didn’t believe it would happen? Every time the camera switched to the Springboks coaches’ box Rassie Erasmus, Jacques Nienaber and the rest wore pained expressions as if they were men on a sinking ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

The players on the pitch looked similarly despondent. With the Paris sky chucking it down, they made the ball seem like a bar of soap. A usually efficient rugby machine was rusting and misfiring before our eyes. They were supposed to walk this contest against a previously disjointed England outfit. Instead, they were walking out of the World Cup.

Manie Libbok had a stinker. So did Cobus Reinach and Damian Willemse. The 9-10-15 axis is one that has been a cornerstone of South Africa’s march to glory over the past eight years but tonight, in a game that mattered more than most, it was coming undone.

Of course, it wasn’t only their fault. Eben Ezebeth produced arguably his worst performance for his country in 118 Tests. Around him the rest of the tight five was getting outfought and out thought. The line-out was a damp squib. Even the scrum failed to produce the requisite go-forward grunt.

Before the restart, with South Africa trailing 12-6, Siya Kolisi and his players were out on the pitch much earlier than England. No doubt they received a deserved bollocking. Something had to give.

Except it didn’t.

Not initially. The early moments of the first half were as abject as all 40 minutes of the first. And when Owen Farrell slotted a drop-goal on 53 minutes, it felt as if this World Cup dream was over for the reigning champions.

South African fans, how did you feel at that moment? Like your brain was dividing by zero? You’re not alone. It was hard to compute. This wasn’t what was promised on the tin. This wasn’t how it was meant to be.

Credit must go to England. They were just as pugilistic, pugnacious and pragmatic as they’d been all tournament. They started the weekend as the only unbeaten team in the competition though this fact was dismissed as a consequence of their relatively pedestrian route to the semi-finals. Perhaps we had it all wrong. Maybe they slogged out ugly wins not only because that was the only way they knew how to get the job done, but because they reduced even fluent teams to stuttering bumblers.

And that is what they did to South Africa. England won the line-out and the battle in the air. They harassed the Boks’ back three and were quicker at the breakdown. Every time a man in green tried to do something, anything, someone in white made a mess of it.

To their credit, the coaches acted decisively. At the time it felt reckless to make so many changes so early in the game. Libbok for Handre Pollard after just half an hour. Willemse and Reinach for Faf de Klerk and Willie le Roux shortly after the break. Etzebeth for RG Snyman. But in retrospect, all of those switches made a difference. Pollard’s boot secured the winning points and Snyman’s drive over the line registered an important try that confirmed the momentum shift with a little more than 10 minutes to play. But it was the replacements in the front row that truly won the game for the Boks.

Ox Nche was a monster. A titan. A consumer of worlds. After heady nights like this, no superlative is too hyperbolic. He is famous for quipping that salads don’t win scrums and Springboks fans will hope that the renowned cake-eater inhales every gateau in France over the next seven days. Lettuce leaves be damned!

Along with Vincent Koch, the replacement heavies won three crucial penalties at set piece. The first helped alleviate pressure when England had the feed in South Africa’s red zone after Kurt-Lee Arendse fumbled a bouncing ball. Then they won a penalty that led to a line-out down field and Deon Fourie charging from a splintered maul and Snyman touching down. Then they won a penalty which gave Pollard a shot at goal from just inside England’s half on the angle.

Without those three penalty wins at the scrum, South Africa would be competing for a bronze medal next week. Now they’ll take a shot at their fiercest rivals, the New Zealand All Blacks, for a fourth World Cup crown.

Those are the minute margins of elite sport. Epic encounters - and this was epic, even though it wasn’t clinical - are determined by events that ripple across time like scattered pebbles on a still lake. Each one adds to the whirling, swirling picture. Each one impacts on the other.

But clashes of this nature, and especially those involving a team like the Springboks, are also swayed by things beyond our sight. It’s hard not to get swept up in the magic of a side that believes it is compelled by a sense of destiny when it triumphs from despair. Was ever a point where they didn’t believe it would happen? Don’t bet on it.