It is a relatively little-known fact that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes, was a keen rugby union fan. He travelled to France, South Africa and New Zealand to watch games and, in 1924, wrote in his autobiography that he regarded rugby as “the best collective sport” because of its physical and mental requirements. Even Holmes’s trusty companion, Watson, was credited with playing on the wing for England’s oldest club, Blackheath, back in the day.

So what would the famous detective have deduced, almost exactly a century later, from studying the 2023 Rugby World Cup? It is easy to imagine him exhaling a cloud of pipe smoke in his Baker Street lodgings and concluding the competition was ultimately defined by what did not happen. The hosts France were not borne shoulder-high through the streets of Paris with the trophy, the Irish could not sustain their fans’ fondest dreams and, in the final, the All Black dog did not bark in the night-time. All were eventually outflanked by a South African side who were a little bit stronger and cuter than the rest.

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Should everybody have seen it coming? Maybe. The bright-eyed Springboks were the defending champions and clobbered New Zealand 35-7 in their final pre-tournament warm-up game at Twickenham. That same week, by chance, I happened to be standing beside the same coffee machine as the All Black head coach, Ian Foster, and asked how his team were shaping up for the ultimate test. Foster genuinely felt his side were in a good place; little did he know the Boks were in an even better one.

When people revisit the knockout stage details the other overarching conclusion will be the absurdly fine margins between success and failure. No team will ever win another Rugby World Cup in the same extraordinary tightrope manner that the Boks won this one: three successive one-point wins in the quarters, semis and final, all chiselled from granite-hard adversity. It was less about individual accomplishment and more a collective case of South Africa refusing to be beaten. Elementary, really.

The good

Every World Cup is remembered differently depending on people’s vantage points. The latest edition was the definitive example. Everyone actually present in France could sense the air exiting the tournament’s tricolour balloons as the beaten hosts slumped to the ground at the final whistle in their quarter-final. It had been a similar story the previous evening in the wake of Ireland’s shattering 24-28 loss to New Zealand. Try telling anyone in those two countries that they should give indefinite thanks, as is still happening across South Africa, for the bounteous gifts that 2023 delivered.

There were certain unifying themes, even so, to refresh even the most jaded palate. To be in the Stade de France as tens of thousands of Ireland fans belted out Dirty Old Town and Zombie after watching their team beat the Boks in the pool stages was to experience the special shared communion that rugby followers can still generate (when they are not booing Eddie Jones or Owen Farrell on the big screen). It was the same in the glorious final moments when Portugal surged over for the late try against Fiji in Toulouse that earned Os Lobos their first World Cup main draw victory. World Cups come alive when people are lifted off their seats and Portugal managed it almost every time they took the field.

In the end, though, one man – again – stood out. Not Eben Etzebeth, Pieter-Steph du Toit, Handré Pollard, Ox Nché or any of the other steely Bok match-winners but their captain, Siya Kolisi. The next time anyone talks airily about leadership being less important in today’s data-driven, coach-dominated modern sporting environment, just direct them to Kolisi’s media addresses throughout the competition. Sincerity, integrity, passion, humanity … the boy from the downtrodden township of Zwide in the Eastern Cape has matured into perhaps the most impressive figure in the whole of world sport. When New Zealanders lament their 14-man team’s 12-11 defeat in the final and blame it all on the officials for showing their captain, Sam Cane, a red card, they are forgetting the remarkable bonds – part spiritual, part band of brothers – that elevated South Africa above everyone else. It takes a rare individual to lead a team to one World Cup triumph, never mind two. Rugby union has never possessed a finer ambassador.

The bad

World Cups can play tricks on the imagination. Was it really only four months ago that Eddie Jones was still being hailed as Australia’s trump card? It feels appreciably longer now. Few have left a more extensive trail of coaching wreckage in their wake in the past 12 months than Jones, now awaiting his next challenge in the form of a second stint as Japan’s head coach. England, having sacked Jones last December, could only lob the mother of hospital passes to Steve Borthwick, who had little choice but to pull together the most basic of gameplans for a tournament that cried out for slightly more in the way of layered sophistication. The Wallabies? There have been toddler meal-times with a less messy ending than Australia’s 40-6 defeat to Wales in Lyon, after which Jones’s days in charge of his homeland were inevitably numbered.

And, with respect to Johan Deysel, what might have unfolded had France’s kingpin Antoine Dupont not been struck in the face by Namibia’s upright captain in a pool game that Les Bleus were already winning by the length of the Champs-Élysées? One untimely fracture, one giant-sized hole in a nation’s self-confidence. Dupont was back, wearing a protective headguard, in time for the quarter-final against South Africa but was never going to be quite the same musketeering D’Artagnan. In that fraction of a second – with France 54-0 up in a game they would eventually win 96-0 – the tournament’s greatest asset was instantly replaced by pearl-clutching, daily medical bulletins and global frustration. If France could rewrite any single moment of their World Cup – Cheslin Kolbe’s crucial chargedown of Thomas Ramos’s attempted conversion included – it would involve replacing Dupont at half-time in that Namibia game before disaster struck.

The ugly

Rugby’s rulers had the very best of intentions when, on the eve of the World Cup, they confirmed the use of the new bunker review system to help on-field referees adjudicate on instances of dangerous or reckless play. Unfortunately the outcomes were frequently so hairline and debatable that uncertainty ruled. Tom Curry was shown a red card in the opening minutes of England’s opening game for the sin of colliding with a falling Argentinian opponent and the chances of a protracted slow-motion inquest significantly affecting a major knockout fixture were always high. Sure enough, it duly came to pass in the final. Cane’s dismissal was arguably for a less grisly offence than his teammate Shannon Frizzell had already committed earlier in the game but by the letter of the law he had to go. It did not help the sport, either, that the momentous final decision to dismiss the All Black captain, after a lengthy bunker review process, was ultimately taken out of the hands of a fine referee, Wayne Barnes. The idea was to help officials, not make them helpless hostages to fortune.

Worse still was the tide of subsequent social media anger that flowed in the direction of Barnes and his English officiating colleague, Tom Foley. Both announced their retirement from the international game shortly after the tournament, sickened by the abuse directed at their families and themselves. Society’s problem, partly, but also increasingly a rugby one. Eddie Jones is among those who believe a direct link exists between lengthy stoppages in the game for video reviews and the booing of individuals on the big screen by bored, distracted fans. The talented Barnes had handled the final with aplomb and yet here he was, still being pilloried by the cowardly and the faceless. Rugby’s biggest-ever tournament had its shiny, happy moments but there were also flashes of depressing darkness.

Lessons learned

Let’s start with the good news. The France v South Africa and Ireland v New Zealand quarter-finals were as good as rugby gets; hard, fast, skilful, resourceful and impressively staged. The only drawback was that two of the world’s best four sides could not be involved in the final fortnight. Next time the draw is set to be conducted closer to the event, reducing the chances of ranking quirks fundamentally shaping the competition in the same way again. The effective length of the tournament is also being cut from eight weeks to seven: the 2023 edition was so long that even those of us who barely passed French O-level were almost fluent by the end.

If World Rugby could wave a magic wand, though, it would be to broaden the number of properly competitive teams to coincide with a scheduled expansion to 24 nations (from 20) next time. As well as concussion-related lawsuits and off-field financial concerns, the international game still needs to be wary of too many mismatches, a lack of jeopardy and an uneven playing field tilted in favour of the established elite. Success, or otherwise, in 2027 and 2031 will be most effectively measured by the scorelines when the sides ranked 21 to 24 in the world rankings take on the big boys.