The 1973 Barbarians vs New Zealand match is remembered less as a normal fixture than as a statement about what rugby could be. Played at Cardiff Arms Park on January 27, 1973, the match brought together the invitational Barbarians against the All Blacks at the end of New Zealand’s long northern-hemisphere tour. The Barbarians won 23–11, but the score became secondary to the opening try finished by Gareth Edwards after a sweeping movement that began near the Barbarians’ own line. The reason “That Try” still matters is simple: it turned rugby’s highest ideals—adventure, handling, support running, courage, and shared instinct—into one continuous passage of play.
The Invitational Team Built for Adventure
The Barbarians have always occupied a special place in rugby because they are not a conventional club or national side. Their identity is built around invitation, tradition, and a commitment to expressive rugby. Against New Zealand in 1973, that mattered. The Barbarians were not trying to grind through a league table or protect a season’s standings. They were assembled to play a one-off match against one of rugby’s great powers, and the occasion gave them permission to attempt something larger than efficiency.
That freedom shaped the meaning of the match. The All Blacks represented discipline, touring toughness, and one of the strongest identities in world rugby. The Barbarians represented possibility: a team of elite players drawn together for a short window, asked to trust each other quickly and play with ambition. That contrast gave the game its emotional charge before the famous try ever happened.
The setting also mattered. Cardiff Arms Park was one of rugby’s great stages, and the crowd understood the scale of the occasion. This was not an exhibition in the casual sense. It was a serious match between a decorated touring side and an invitational team loaded with talent. The Barbarians’ victory was important on its own, but the way they scored made the game last.
1973 Barbarians vs New Zealand and the Try That Rewrote the Match
The defining moment came in the opening minutes. New Zealand kicked deep, forcing the Barbarians back toward their own line. Phil Bennett collected the ball under pressure and began the movement with a run that could easily have ended in disaster. Instead of simply clearing, Bennett stepped and accelerated out of danger. That first decision gave the try its shape: the Barbarians chose possibility over safety.
From there, the ball moved through hands with remarkable speed and nerve. J.P.R. Williams kept the move alive. John Pullin, John Dawes, Tommy David, and Derek Quinnell were involved as the attack surged upfield. Gareth Edwards arrived on the outside and finished in the corner, completing a move that had traveled almost the full length of the pitch. The try is often described as one of the greatest, and sometimes the greatest, in rugby history.
Its power comes from more than distance. Long-range tries happen in rugby, but few combine so many elements at once. Bennett’s escape created the spark. The support runners kept the attack alive. The passing invited risk without becoming careless. Edwards’ finish gave the movement its final authority. The try looked improvised, but it was not random. It was a chain of elite rugby decisions made at full speed.
That is why the moment survives repeated viewing. It does not depend only on nostalgia. It shows rugby as a collective language. Each player seems to understand what the next action requires before the defense can close the space. The movement is famous because it made rugby look both instinctive and intelligent.
The commentary helped preserve the moment, too. Cliff Morgan’s call became part of the try’s afterlife, giving the play a verbal rhythm that matched the movement on the field. The try was already extraordinary, but the broadcast gave future generations a way to hear its drama as well as see it.
Why “That Try” Still Defines Rugby’s Highest Ideal
“That Try” still holds its place because it represents a version of rugby that fans want the sport to remember. It was not built from one athlete overpowering everyone. It was not a trick play. It was not a defensive mistake turned into a simple score. It was a full-team attacking movement that required nerve, skill, timing, and trust.
The Barbarians’ status makes the moment even stronger. Because they were an invitational side, the try came to stand for a kind of rugby romance: talented players from different backgrounds coming together and producing something that felt complete. That is why the story is bigger than Gareth Edwards alone, even though Edwards’ finish gives the try its name and image. Bennett’s first steps, the support lines, the offloads, and the final dive all matter.
The match also showed that beauty and competitiveness did not have to be opposites. The Barbarians beat New Zealand 23–11, so the try was not just decoration inside a losing performance. It opened a real contest and helped define a famous win. The result gave the artistry weight.
In modern rugby, where defensive systems are more organized, collisions are more managed, and tactical kicking is more heavily analyzed, “That Try” still feels like a standard rather than a relic. It reminds the sport that structure matters, but so does the courage to attack from deep when the chance appears.
The 1973 Barbarians vs New Zealand match became rugby scripture because “That Try” gave the sport one of its clearest images of collective genius. It was a try, a team movement, a broadcast moment, and a philosophy of play all at once. More than fifty years later, it still explains why rugby’s best moments are often built from shared instinct rather than individual force.
