My first memory of an English footballer is David Hobbs’ elbow setting Greg Conescu’s tooth free from its gum at the SCG in 1984.

In Great Britain garb or otherwise, the Poms have rarely looked as threatening since.

Remember how in stages of Queensland’s State of Origin winning streak New South Wales did everything but snatch a series win? That’s how England, now stripped of their neighbouring nations, have rolled for much longer than eight years.

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They fought gamely – or literally, in the case of Hobbs – in that 1984 series, and again in 1988 when Ellery Hanley and Martin Offiah lit up Australia for the Lions.

Since then they lost a grip on the Ashes through a Ricky Stuart-Mal Meninga miracle try at Old Trafford in 1990; fought tooth-and-nail in a gripping series as Super League cut Australian reserves in half in 1997; and have made several Tri- and Four Nations finals before inevitably being torn apart by the Aussies in the second half.

In between, they’ve absolutely stunk up the football field. Sitting with English fans at the World Cup 2008 semi-final at Lang Park, watching their team stumble and bumble to a 32-22 loss to a New Zealand side which eventually shocked everyone by taking the title, the words of one English fan have long rung in my ears: “You’re fook-ing rubbish England!”

Then Adrian Morley threw one of his boots at the throng of Poms as he left the field, the fans politely applauded, and everything was forgiven.

Which is a roundabout way of saying mediocrity is expected from English rugby league teams. They’ve seemingly accepted their lot as bridesmaids.

Something strange happened at the 2013 Rugby League World Cup, though, and it didn’t always involve a cocktail of energy drinks and sleeping pills. The bumbling, stumbling giant of rugby league became steady on its feet, began to resemble a well-oiled machine, then turned in a semi-final performance against the Kiwis which contained elements of desire, tactical genius, and good old-fashioned derring-do.



We all know how it ended, and halfback Kevin Sinfield’s retirement from international football now allows him to sit in a darkened room, watching looped YouTube footage of Shaun Johnson shimmy and shake past him, still wondering how he could be at least indirectly responsible for not only all of his team’s points, but the New Zealand points that mattered most.

If that indignity, combined with a Kiwi team which had its cocky strut forcibly removed by Australia at Old Trafford a week later, combined with an Australian squad bereft of the usual superstars yet inexplicably blessed with Wests Tigers, combined with a Samoan team which contains Ben Roberts… If that perfect storm of factors doesn’t have English coach Steve McNamara ready to tear the life support system out of England’s catatonic body and send it towards glorious victory in the field of battle, you can probably stick a fork in international rugby league and declare it done.

Even without Sam Burgess, they’ve got a pair of Burgii who have now tasted victory on the big stage. In James Graham they’ve got a wily brute of a prop who’s more accustomed to coming second, which in some areas of life is actually more boon than curse.

The man dangling between this lot in what now passes for scrums will likely be Josh Hodgson, a No.9 so brave he’s prepared to leave a cushy job at Hull KR to sign a three-year deal with a Ricky Stuart-coached team.

Fullback Sam Tomkins cops so much stick from Australia-based keyboard warriors that you know he’s dangerous. Five-eighth Gareth Widdop’s name is mispronounced by Ray Warren often, so you know he’s busy. They’ve got handy finishers in Ryan Hall, Josh Charnley and Joe Burgess, and a ball-playing workhorse in Sean O’Loughlin to lead from the front.

They also open the tournament in Lang Park this Saturday afternoon against Samoa, while their two main rivals smash seven shades of something-or-other through each other in the main event. Their next opponent will be battered, while England should be fine-tuned.

Beat just one of the other ‘big three’, and England should find themselves defending one half of Wellington’s Cake Tin come November 15.

Unless they somehow lose to Samoa. In which case, that Pommy fan who caught Morley’s boot in 2008 should throw it in the fook-ing rubbish for good.

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