And so the Cheika Era comes to an end, not with a bang or a whimper, but with chaos and stupidity.
Kurtley Beale repaid his coach for continuing to select him well past his use by date with another display of missed tackles and kick and pray.
The forwards repaid their coach’s arrogance off the field with arrogance on the field, and got their arses handed to them.
Cheika’s legacy is a lesson in how not to mount a campaign. No selection consistency, chopping and swapping, bringing back players like
Justin Bieber James O’Connor in the hope they might be a silver bullet, and never ever settling on a strategy. Never ever coaching players to get better.
There are good players in Australia who deserved so much more: David Pocock in particular was a great talent in the wrong place at the wrong time. Was.
Eddie Jones is the exact opposite. Whether you like his brand of rugby or not, at least he knows what he’s trying to do. Big brutal forwards, backs who return the ball to their forwards, and just occasionally run like the wind. Efficient. Effective.
Australa go home to a long hot summer of internecine blood-letting that will make the Godfather movies look like a Jane Austen period drama.