In Perth two weeks ago at UFC 305, the middleweight world champion, Dricus Du Plessis from South Africa, marched towards the octagon using what sports psychologists might call option 1-0-1.
That is the psychological intimidation of an opponent by using dominant body language.
With a body chiselled like a Michelangelo statue, joyously and uniquely devoid of tattoo ink, Du Plessis moved like a man who was not only laser-focused on his mission, but believed with undeniable faith that he had the physical and mental tools to complete it.
As a wonderful Maori elder once explained to me, as we stood facing a group of young Maori men who had just performed their fearsome war Haka, if the body language was powerful enough then on occasion the enemy would decide that the other team simply looked far too tough and legged it.
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The day after the Springboks had defeated the Wallabies in the second Test in the same city, Du Plessis made his way towards the octagon. As he walked a beautiful rendition of the South African national anthem, Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika, was being sung. Yet strangely Du Plessis was not the focus of the crowd’s attention.
It was his two giant minders, the Springbok double world champions, Eben Eztebeth and his captain Siya Kolisi, that caught the world’s attention.
Even if they had no idea of what a rugby Springbok was, the American commentators loved it, with amateur dramatics that more resembled a person suffering from the pain of ingesting a violently hot chilli pepper rather than being potentially violent muscle outside the octagon. As actors Eztebeth and Kolisi are good rugby players. While not in Hulk Hogan’s league, I gave them a six out of 10 for effort.
Like the boxer who blesses himself before the bell rings, none of this matters if you can’t fight. As the Maori elder continued to explain to me: “After you have delivered your best version of your Haka and the opposition call your bluff and murmur, ‘Okay bro, let’s rumble’, You better be able to back up the dance steps with actions.”
Like the Springboks, Du Plessis is a worthy world champion because not only is he one very tough rooster, the octagon is his environment and he is its master.
Ellis Park in Johannesburg is the Springboks’ octagon. When it is empty it is like an enormous vacant exoskeleton, the Optimums Prime of rugby cathedrals. On match day, the rivers of Springboks supporters flow into its arteries and pump through its veins, filling its wings and stands with South African humanity. As their beloved Springboks run on to the sacred ground the enormous beast bursts into life with a voice all of its own.
Like no other rugby stadium in its grandeur, it aims to intimidate any outsiders who would dare to believe they can win inside its tight confines.
On Saturday, the Springboks’ greatest traditional foe will walk out into the Johannesburg sunshine and call their bluff because the black jersey of New Zealand is the greatest instrument of intimidation in rugby.
A jersey so sacred that they named their national team after it. No tracksuit will ever cover their silver fern and its black surrounds. That would be a sacrilege. So carefully crafted is the psychological mythology surrounding that black jersey that the game’s laws empower New Zealand to leverage a phenomenal advantage.
Like Eztebeth and Kolisi at UFC 305, before the kick-off the laws allow New Zealand to intimidate their opponent. Forming up in the shape of a giant wedge, the team delivers their Haka, the Maori challenge. A psychological message of intent to the Springboks.
New Zealand may very well aim to antagonise the world champions on their home turf and perform their “throat slitter” Haka. The controversial and intimidating body language of ‘Kapa o Pango’.
The Kiwis maintain it is not a throat-slitting action but rather it is “drawing vital energy into the heart and lungs”. Yeah, right.
Here, let me remind you that the Springboks won the 2023 Rugby World Cup final against New Zealand by a single point.
For New Zealand, Saturday’s match at Ellis Park is the opportunity to right what they believe was a grave injustice. Yet the Kiwis under their new coach Scott Robertson have been as shaky as the New Zealand isles themselves.
Two tight wins against England, then a stunning loss to the Pumas. While order was restored against Argentina at Eden Park a week later, the rugby world has been astounded that after only four games their highly respected attack coach Leon MacDonald parted with the team.
Robertson has an unmatched record in Super Rugby, but like every coach before him he is learning that there are massive changes required to coach at international level.
The Springboks are also adapting. Driven by their New Zealand-born attack coach, Tony Brown, the Boks are playing far more running rugby. In selecting the passing skills of Sasha Feinburg-Mgomezulu as the starting outhalf and the speedster Aphelel Fassi at fullback, and including the sparkling pace of Cheslin Kolbe and Kurt-Lee Arendse, Brown has chosen a backline of enormous attacking potential.
Yet something about the Springboks’ mindset does not sit right. The showmanship. The talk on social media. The swagger. These are symptoms that will unsettle the dynamic thinking of the Springboks coach Rassie Erasmus.
Rugby has a way of cutting down the tallest of poppies. Just when you think you have this entire rugby thing sorted, the game punches you as hard as Dricus Du Plessis. Leaving a large dose of humility dripping from your nose.
I don’t gamble but, if I did, history has taught me that on days such as these, a quiet fiver on the Kiwis might not be a bad bet.
After all, body language is not everything.
