High hopes dashed by Waratahs' comeback win but Rebels regroup

THE bus trip from Coogee to Moore Park takes just on 17 minutes. Barely a word is uttered above a whisper.

rebels

THE bus trip from Coogee to Moore Park takes just on 17 minutes. Barely a word is uttered above a whisper.

Melbourne Rebels players, coaches and officials are deep in a fog of pre-match intensity. Four hours later, the return journey is just as sombre - but much grimmer.

The Rebels have lost by five points to NSW, 31-26, after leading by 10 at half-time. The mood is now a confection of brooding anger and gnawing frustration.

Bodies are battered. A sense of injustice pervades the group, but no one mentions the refereeing - not publicly anyway.

By the time the bus slows to a halt outside the team's beachside hotel, it is getting late. Suddenly, everyone apart from the players gets off the bus. No exceptions.

Crestfallen coach Damien Hill, sitting in his usual pew behind the driver, is first off. The playing group stays on the bus for an impromptu meeting. There is no discussion of curfews or rules.

The tone is one of respecting your mate by being on time, doing the right thing by your "brother". As the reality of defeat cuts deep, silence gives way to a collective vow ahead of Friday's clash with the high-flying Queensland Reds.

However briefly, the Waratah memories - still too fresh and shattering to absorb - are addressed. Eventually, the group trudges inside. The dream of a historic win over the old enemy is unfulfilled.

Hours earlier, their expectations had been so different before optimism was again shown to be the most fickle temptress in sport. Standing in the middle of a dressing room awash with emotion and hope, Kurtley Beale lights the touchpaper pre-match.

The players are called together after returning from a warm-up on the ground and Beale, prowling the edge of the group, strikes. His left shoulder encased in a protective sheath, Beale explodes from within the circle.

"Everyone heads up, all right," the Wallaby star bellows. "Look in the eye of your mate and don't let him down.

"It's a big game, all right. Play our tempo, boys, play our tempo."

Taking his cue from Beale, acting captain James O'Connor reveals his strongly competitive streak.

"We know our game plan, we know what we need to do," he says. "Be confident, go out and play our footy. Quality footy. We're gonna play in their end . . . Let's do it."

o'connor

Nic Henderson, Scott Fuglistaller and Hugh Pyle all speak quietly and thoughtfully at the forwards' meeting. Prop Laurie Weeks, the most jovial of men away from football, sips coffee as match-day officials arrive.

With 22 players spread into units - forwards and backs - it is obvious Super Rugby's pre-match ritual is a unique beast. Some players are lost in music, others fiddle with gear and boots as GPS units are activated and fitted.

Scott Higginbotham prefers an ice bath before warming up, while Lachie Mitchell performs yoga-like stretches in the middle of the floor. Outside, rain continues to fall.

Within the scattered chaos, there is a common cause. Soon enough Hill is tapping into it.

"Get your headphones off, gents," he says. "Start connecting with your mates."

The coach then delivers a clear and uncomplicated tactical assessment, demanding three imperatives - control the ball, sustain an 80-minute effort, show discipline.

"If the ball hits the deck, we get on it. We control the ball," he says. "If we control the ball for 80 minutes, if we win that 51 per cent of possession, if we win that 51 per cent of territory, we've got 'em. I can guarantee we've got 'em."

The players mass for the signature "one, two, three, brothers" warcry and march down the tunnel into battle. Hill gets precisely what he wants for the first 40 minutes as the underdog Rebels outplay their Wallaby-rich opposition.

Ged Robinson scores a try and O'Connor's kicking boot is lethal. At halftime, Higginbotham is sure NSW is teetering.

"These blokes will turn it up," he said. "We all know, these blokes will turn it up."

In the tunnel outside the Melbourne rooms, there is an intriguing encounter as NSW coach Michael Cheika appears to single out referee Rohan Hoffman.

rebels

Cheika is unhappy with the officiating. It is clear he expects better treatment. While Cheika is agitated, Hill is doing his best to stay calm as he implores his team to continue the three-pronged approach.

Ball control, sustained effort and discipline. But, after only a few minutes in the second half, the perfectly hatched plans unravel.

Weeks is marched to the sin bin. NSW cuts loose and pins Melbourne deep in its own half. The 50-50 balls - and calls - suddenly go the wrong way.

The 10-point half-time lead is transformed into a 12-point deficit before a last-gasp try to Beale - and O'Connor's conversion - gives the Rebels a bonus point.

There is a brief meeting on the ground. Impressively, even after a loss there is lasting connection between the players. In the rooms after the match, bruised and cut Rebels have glazed eyes.

Support staff, including Scott Harrison, Dave Rundle and Mark Rowe, hustle from player to player, task to task. The vibe is now wrenching. Mitch Inman addresses the group.

Consoling words from others cut little ice. Hill's warning about needing to sustain the effort hangs heavy in the atmosphere.

In this sport, the smallest of lapses are terminal. Worse, NSW is celebrating its first win since April last year and Sydney's hot spots beckon. For the Rebels, the learning curve remains steep.

"We've just got to get better," O'Connor says. "That match was ours to win."

Nobody, perhaps not even Cheika, is inclined to disagree. The Rebels are at the gates. Some time soon, nights like these will be very different.