Let me tell you something that’s been gnawing at me for weeks: England’s rugby team is currently in a state of cognitive dissonance. On one hand, they’ve got a 12-game winning streak that would make even the most jaded fans blush. On the other, they’re still committing enough penalties to fill a rugby stadium, and their attack is so frustratingly inefficient it’s like watching a toddler try to assemble IKEA furniture. This isn’t just a case of ‘they’re not good enough’—it’s a full-blown identity crisis wrapped in a red jersey.
Here’s the thing: Steve Borthwick’s England team is like a car with a turbocharged engine but no brakes. They’ve got moments of brilliance, like that 73-8 demolition of Fiji, which felt like watching a symphony orchestra play Beethoven while the audience clapped along. But then there’s the other stuff—the yellow cards, the missed opportunities, the bizarre decisions that make you wonder if the players are channeling their inner slapstick comedian. It’s not just about discipline; it’s about maturity. And I’m not talking about the players’ ages (though they’re mostly in their 20s). I’m talking about their ability to process pressure without turning into a human version of a fidget spinner.
What really gets me is the contrast between the young guns and the veterans. Take Immanuel Feyi-Waboso, who’s 23 and already looks like he’s been playing for 20 years. He’s a revelation—116 meters from 12 carries, four line breaks, and he’s got that electric edge that makes you forget he’s not even in his third season. But then there’s the older guys, like Maro Itoje, who’s coming back from a summer break like he’s been on a solo retreat in the Swiss Alps. You can’t help but wonder: are they trying to rebuild the team or just patching holes with duct tape and hope?
Borthwick’s leadership style is interesting. He’s got this ‘we’re all in this together’ vibe, but it’s tinged with a bit of defensiveness. I mean, when he’s asked about continuity in selection, he snaps back with a quip about how many caps you want. It’s almost like he’s saying, ‘You want me to be perfect? I’ll show you perfect.’ But here’s the catch: the media isn’t the enemy here. The real enemy is the team’s inability to translate their flashes of genius into consistent performance. And that’s where the problem lies—not in Borthwick’s tactics, but in the culture he’s trying to build.
Let’s talk about the attack. They’re scoring points, sure, but it’s like they’re playing a game of Russian roulette. They’ve got the second-highest number of attacks into the opposition 22, but they’re only averaging 2.7 points per try. That’s worse than Italy, who’s basically the rugby equivalent of a team that shows up in pajamas. What’s the deal with that? Are they overthinking it? Underthinking it? Or is it just a case of ‘we’ve got the ball, now what?’
And then there’s the travel schedule. I get it, rugby is a global sport, but does England really need to be playing in Argentina, Japan, and New Zealand in the same summer? It’s like asking a marathon runner to sprint across three continents in a week. The physical toll on the players must be astronomical. I mean, how do you expect someone to be at their peak when they’re flying across time zones like it’s a game of chess?
Looking ahead, the November Tests against Australia, Japan, and New Zealand are a litmus test. If England can’t clean up their act, they’re going to be the laughingstock of the rugby world. But here’s my prediction: they’ll stumble, they’ll fall, and then they’ll rise again. Because that’s what this team does. They’re not perfect, but they’ve got something special—a mix of youth, talent, and a coach who’s willing to fight back when the world throws him curveballs. The question is, will they learn to control the chaos before the World Cup rolls around?
