The siren song of the Wallabies, not the national anthem is sung at Twickenham, but returns home at a time usually reserved for train drivers, Garbos and clubbers.
In the early hours before dawn, we roll out of bed and groping in the dark for the TV remote control, booze at the show in our jams and jam wipe the sleep from our eyes
If you mute the sound on your TV, and listen ever so carefully, you might just hear the siren song we speak of.
When
Rob Simmons intercepts for the opening try after two minutes, or
Bernard Foley loops a long ball out to Adam Ashley-Cooper, or David
Pocock pilfers another ball at the breakdown, or Drew Mitchell embarks
on a jinking, swerving, incisive run that leads to the decisive
five-pointer, you will hear the other ardent souls like yourself,
cheering and yelling and hollering at the TV and waking up the
neighbours.
The streets are coming alive in the dead of night, and
it isn't to watch our cricketers or Socceroos or brattish tennis
players competing on the other side of the world.
It's to watch
the Wallabies, who have recaptured the imagination of a wider sporting
public that usually drops them quicker than a frigid prom date.
Their
semi-final win against Argentina at a heaving Twickenham on Monday
morning – really early Monday morning, actually – pitchforked them into
the decider against the All Blacks.
The reaction from the
Wallabies players as soon as referee Wayne Barnes blew the full-time
whistle was subdued. It was as much a sign that the job wasn't done as
how exhausted they were.
They may have punched well above their
weight at this World Cup, but now there's a genuine belief from within
that they can win it
