48 hours: Arise, Sir Richie, superhero in 7

How ironic that the king of world rugby should have perfected the modern rugby art of operating from bended knee.

Not that Richie McCaw spends much time in any position of deference.

On Saturday night he produced a performance of such turbocharged magnificence that the All Black shadows being flung across the rugby globe are increasingly cast in the shape of a man who will surely deserve to be immortalised in statue one day.

Arise, Sir Richie, is a phrase that comes to the lips as McCaw hauls himself up, time and time again, from the pile-ups that he engineers and dominates.

But it is the stunning breadth of his game that is leading the All Blacks to a place they once inhabited by right, where close battles are invariably won not just through skill but physical prowess and desire.

Repeated World Cup failures have muddied these waters, but All Black captaincy can be a glorious burden and McCaw is not so much carrying the load but charging around as if there are rocket boosters in every pack.

Already, just three serious games into his captaincy reign, the All Blacks have clearly become McCaw's men, thriving off his energy, self-belief and relentless will for the battle, although to emulate his deeds is beyond them or anyone else in world rugby right now.

The moment that may best be remembered from the Battle of Brisbane came in the 54th minute when, from a lineout and subsequent midfield break by the colossal Wallaby centre Stirling Mortlock, the trailing McCaw quickly spotted the exact point at which the danger would have to be extinguished, and charged there before anyone else to bring down the flying Mark Gerrard in reach of the goal line.

Gerrard, just briefly, may have believed he was heading towards a date with history, but McCaw had already diaried a slightly earlier appointment, and arrived on time. Who knows what a Wallaby try at this time would have led to, in terms of the game, or a shift in the forces which had the All Blacks bobbing gloriously on a spring tide.

What followed McCaw's tackle, under the glare of the television camera, was the sight of the captain unbending the knees enough to roll Gerrard and then wrestle for the ball as a magnificent All Black rear guard surged in.

A split second later, McCaw could be seen on the ground, under a pile of bodies, perfectly placed to nudge the ball back to his troops.

What ensued would have been hailed as rugby from outer space 20 years ago.

There, stationed just inside the dead ball line, was Ali Williams, a lock to boot, you could say, who under charge-down pressure put in an excellent clearing kick - although into the hands of Stephen Larkham.

It was Williams who then helped secure the ball for the All Blacks on the other side of the field, whereby No 8 Rodney So'oialo slid a perfect and long clearing kick down the sideline.

This is the era of the multi-tasking footballer, but none take the range or excellence as far as McCaw.

On any given day, he takes both defensive and attacking kickoffs, is a lineout jumper, stand-up defender, a ball runner, link man, turnover winner, an expert at slowing down the delivery of opposition ball, a maestro at knowing when to strike at poorly protected ball behind opposition rucks, and is also managing to run the debate with referees without his game appearing to suffer.

He did just about the lot in Brisbane, on a night in which you had to wonder quite where this All Black team would be without him, or their overpowering scrum.

McCaw may be rugby royalty, and possibly the greatest player this country has produced, but he rules in all classes.

One of the enduring memories of McCaw on Saturday night came after yet another lineout botch-up, as a player whose health has often been a concern hurled himself with no regard for safety to grab a bobbling ball that for most would have been a lost cause.

His only clear blemish was a strange lob kick over the Australian defensive line, but even here McCaw delivered it with such ease on the run that you don't doubt he could perform this task to good effect as well.

His opposite, a truly great openside in George Smith, was left looking like a one-dimensional operator of prehistoric designs although still a key figure in a rejuvenated Australian side.

When Jerry Collins trudged off midway through the second spell, McCaw switched to packing on the blindside of the scrum, a transfer beyond the expertise of many but one the Cantabrian takes in his stride.

One can only assume that for the team barbecues McCaw sets the arrival time, greets the guests, gets in the sausages, does the cooking, tells the best stories and clears up too.

This was an epic test battle, the sort to lust after, where skills can be bludgeoned by the will and expertise of defensive lines and tactics, but where heroics infuse every play with the true meaning of test match rugby.

And yet McCaw could rise above all the hurly-burly, the physical extremes, and carry the team with him. It was a performance of genuine greatness, the like of which it is hard to recall witnessing before.

High

That stirring rugby rivalry with Australia.

Low

The Warriors - fading fast.