Rugby

Thoughts On Rugby

During the past couple of weeks I've watched rugby matches three times, which is unusual for me, a bigotted soccer nut. However, when the call came (from friend Steve) two weeks ago to support England against the French I couldn't resist going to the Bar du Pont with him ; I even phoned Neville and Robin to come and join in. Alas, our support was to no avail. England put up a miserable performance from the beginning so there was really no opportunity to wind up our French friends, who were very gracious about hammering us.

The following weekend it was Wales turn to take on the French and, since Dave Flat was visiting and wanted to see the match, we all went along to the Bar du Pont again. This time I took a leek with me and became a surrogate Welshman, brandishing it in front of all and sundry whenever the Welsh caused the French some discomfort, which was quite often. Still to no avail but that was more fun for me.

For the final match, France against New Zealand, the Bar du Pont was closed (annual holidays) but I half-watched it at home. The French played their socks off, which provided some interest, but that was about the extent of it. I'm not a rugby fan and don't know a lot about the game but can enjoy a match if the play is free flowing. Friends Steve, Neville and Daniel are all fans so no doubt I will watch more games in the future but probably reluctantly. I have a few hang-ups about rugby.

I played it at school but was hopeless at it and never had any confidence. I wasn't heavy or strong enough to be a forward and not really fast enough or tricky enough to be a wing back. With a ball at my feet I could sell dummies by the shopful but never managed that with a ball in my hands. With a ball at my feet I had confidence and felt in control ; if I was going to get clobbered, I'd get a free-kick or penalty out of it. I lacked that confidence at rugby and got clobbered for nothing. My problems with rugby were both physical and psychological.

When I arrived at Rutlish Grammar at the age of 10 I was already a soccer nut and a Chelsea supporter. So I wasn't going to take kindly to rugby anyway. Shortly after my arrival, on one afternoon of atrocious weather, we couldn't play and were « treated » instead to a lecture on the traditions of the school. In the Q/A session afterwards I asked the master lecturing us why the school, in the 1930s, had switched from a successful soccer team to an unsuccessful rugby one. He responded : « Let me put it like this ; if we played soccer, what kind of schools would we play against ? » Well the answer could have been « Eton, Harrow, etc » but then they would never have played against us. The school had switched to rugby to differentiate itself not only from secondary schools but county grammars. If the school wasn't exactly upper class it wasn't going to be associated with the lower classes (in its estimation). Years later, when I was in the sixth form, I let slip to a friendly teacher that I was playing soccer for Tooting YMCA. He responded : « I should keep that to yourself if I were you ; there are some here who won't care but some who certainly will. »

I have often told myself that it is silly to let these experiences affect my attitude to rugby but find I have an innate knee-jerk reaction against it, much in the way that I reacted adversely for years to a public school accent. Petty snobbery should never be a part of sport (or anything else, come to that) and I think (hope) that much has changed in that respect over the years. Certainly my friends who love rugby are not in any way snobbish. Maybe I'll manage to get over my hang-ups (but I'll still be a totally unreasonable soccer nut).