The unattractive face of All Blacks rugby was plastered across the headlines in Dublin newspapers.
They were charmless, brooding and indifferent, and carried themselves, Irish Independent columnist Vincent Hogan wrote, "with the gaiety of gravediggers".
It was easy to work out who the crowd supported at Lansdowne Rd in Dublin on October 27, 1991.
Underneath the main stand, David Campese sat in the Wallaby dressing room reading the poem Winners he carried in his wallet.
This was going to be his match, his time to show what made him such a quality player among a Wallabies side full of champions.
All the attacking instincts the unorthodox wing had grafted into his game were on show as he drifted into first receiver when Michael Lynagh was caught in a ruck. Campese took off on a lateral run across the face of New Zealand's defensive line towards the left-hand side of the park. He seemed to mesmerise the defence until he burst into space with only John Kirwan left in his path.
He twisted and jinked and led the All Blacks wing into uncertainty before scoring in the left-hand corner. That try was not terminal, it was a flesh wound, but Campese slashed deeper before the break when he regathered a Lynagh chip kick.
As the ball settled in his hands, Campese set off on another zig-zag run which held the defence before he threw an outrageous pass over his head into the grateful grasp of Tim Horan, trailing on the inside.
The crowd loved the dazzle the Wallabies were putting into the tournament, while those following England were getting more drowsy watching their work.
Australia skipper Nick Farr-Jones thought that 16-6 victory, coming after they had squared the Bledisloe Cup series that year, was the best his side played at the tournament, and Campese claimed the Wallabies knew how the All Blacks were going to play and were sure they'd prevail.