It’s the kind of rivalry that has built itself on a scaffold of shared history and sharp-edged hostility. In rugby, no match is free from scrutiny, but games between England and South Africa bear an extra burden: they are weighed down by decades of exchanges, not just on the field but in the words and gestures that have been made off it. For two teams that have arguably built their legacy on fielding the biggest and strongest men the world game has ever seen, these matches are not merely about strategy or skill.
After their controlled – even restrained – victory over the Scots on Sunday, the Springboks are now back at the top of the world rankings. It’s a position they’re used to occupying. For England – shock losers against Australia on the weekend – it’s where they’ve wanted to be since they were last there, following their World Cup semi-final win against England five years ago.
Their shared history is messy, the sort of history that grows complex in the retelling. The 2019 World Cup final in Yokohama saw England’s ambitions laid to waste by a South African side that bullied them in every physical contest. The Springboks’ ferocious defence and their smothering of England’s possession left no room for the men in white to catch their breath. But that wasn’t just a singular day; it was a legacy-defining moment, a continuum of contests dating back to the early 2000s and beyond. In the eyes of both nations, it was a blow that demanded a response. England, if only for the sake of their pride, would have to answer for it.
The stakes are high not only for the players on the field but for their leaders as well. Steve Borthwick, England’s coach, finds himself the architect of a national team that has, in recent years, stumbled against South Africa, most painfully in a semi-final loss in the 2023 World Cup. His counterpart, Rassie Erasmus, carries with him a reputation that veers between visionary and provocateur. Erasmus has never held back, neither in his coaching strategies nor in his media sparring. To some, he’s a master strategist; to others, he’s a cynic, a man who knows how to press every psychological button to keep opponents off-kilter. His comments leading into the match have been clipped but telling, insinuating that England, with recent disappointments fresh in memory, might be reaching “desperation.” Erasmus’ verbal volleys rarely miss their target, and it’s a craft he wields with a sniper’s precision.
The historical context adds an unspoken tension. England and South Africa first clashed in Crystal Palace in 1906, and while there have been highs and lows since, some years have marked turning points.
In the early 2000s, England enjoyed a remarkable six-game winning streak, culminating in a dominant 32-16 win at Twickenham in 2004. For South Africa, that was the point of no return. They were in a slump then, and in the years that followed, they sought to rebuild with an intensity that saw them claim the 2007 World Cup. The clash in 2002 between Martin Johnson and South Africa’s Corne Krige foreshadowed an enduring war of words and aggression on the field (while off it, the latter was quoted as calling Johnson “one of the dirtiest captains in world rugby”). Johnson, England’s formidable leader, had mocked Krige’s complaints of English arrogance. For a time, it was England’s heyday. Yet the pendulum would inevitably swing back.
The 2024 South African side is something else altogether—a mixture of athleticism and near-religious discipline that Erasmus has fine-tuned. Their attacks are brutal and uncompromising, often bypassing finesse for raw power, with a patience that can lull opponents into a state of near despair. They are a team that is beginning to relish “Tonyball” – the style being implemented by their new attack coach, former All Blacks fly-half Tony Brown – a kind of strategy that keeps opponents on edge, unbalanced, waiting for the next hammer blow.
