Rugby needs to get over itself and stop being so precious

Three days after Warren Gatland’s Wales stuttered to yet another defeat to Italy in Rome, and 10 days before Matt Sherratt’s Wales’ match against Ireland in Cardiff, three Irish pundits gathered round their microphones to snigger at the state of Welsh rugby.

On the ‘Off the Ball’ sports show, Arthur James O’Dea weighed in on the mismatch between the teams separated by 10 places on World Rugby’s rankings list. “Would a 14-man Ireland team beat Wales?” O’Dea asked.

“Probably,” replied his co-host, Ger Gilroy before the conversation took a more cynical turn. Would Wales beat Leinster? Probably not according to the pundits. Would Wales beat Ireland’s second-string side? Their third-string side? Ireland’s u-20s? How many first-team players could Ireland leave on the bench and still beat Wales? Are 12 Irishmen better than 15 of their Welsh counterparts?

Cue the inevitable pearl clutching. Wales Online published the debate in full, the equivalent of sticking it on the dressing room wall with the intent of motivating a beleaguered outfit. On X - which admittedly is no place for measured discourse - O’Dea and the gang were branded “arrogant”, “clowns” and, perhaps worst of all, of “sounding like the English”.

Their flippant remarks were now part of the zeitgeist. It’s as if three podcast bros were speaking for all Irish fans, players and coaches. As if Michael D Higgins had carried their message to The Senedd and delivered them to Mair Eluned Morgan himself.

The BBC’s Rugby Union Daily podcast was sucked into the vortex, demonstrating that even the respected and measured Gareth Rhys Owen could prick his finger on what should have been a totally ignorable thorn. Which perhaps is proof that rugby lovers of all stripes can, on occasion, take offence a little too easily.

Erstwhile Ireland second-row Donncha O'Callaghan also got stuck on his new podcast with Tommy Bowe, labelling Gilroy and co's comments as "not from rugby people" and that it was "fishing for clickbait and all that s***".

This stems from rugby’s values where respect for the opposition and authority is sacrosanct. But this is odd, when you think about it. After all, rugby is a sport that requires its participants to perform acts that would precede jail sentences for grievous bodily harm if they were done by civilians in the street. It’s a game built on violence and antipathy, one laced with colonial hangups and a nation's pride.

Do we really expect players to tear lumps out of each other and not harbour at least some resentment afterwards? Do we really expect fans to belt out their country's anthems, froth themselves into a passionate frenzy, live every tackle and try and then act like Knights of the Realm when the final whistle sounds? Let’s leave the faux chivalry for a bygone amateur age. It’s 2025. Niggle and needle is part of sport’s appeal. It’s high time rugby recognised this.

Peter O'Mahony of Ireland clashes with George Turner, Matt Fagerson and Duhan van der Merwe of Scotland during the Rugby World Cup France 2023 match between Ireland and Scotland at Stade de France on October 07, 2023 in Paris, France. (Photo by Stu Forster/Getty Images)

American sports are leaders in this regard. The NBA, NFL and the rest have long acknowledged that sports are not mere pastimes but massive money-making machines. A rugby match lasts 80 minutes. That leaves 1,000 hours in the week to fill with content. It is not enough to rely on team releases and former players pontificating over second-row combinations to stir emotions. We need more fire and brimstone. We need more so-called “arrogance” from so-called “clowns”. Because like it or not, engagement is the name of the game.

I remember in 2019, in the build-up to the World Cup final, former England scrum-half Matt Dawson penned a column for the BBC. He said that: “If you could choose a combined XV from England and South Africa at this World Cup, you would choose all England players.”

As a Springboks supporter, I was outraged, as if Dawson had insulted me personally. Even though South Africa had scraped through their semi-final against Wales, and England had just obliterated the pre-tournament favourites New Zealand, I abandoned logic and reason. It was as if, for several days in a row, my amygdala was doing the driving. Every thought I had was coloured by the rage I felt for Dawson, Eddie Jones and all of English rugby.

England's Martin Johnson, Matt Dawson, Lawrence Dallaglio and Danny Grewcock (Photo by Jed Leicester/EMPICS via Getty Images)

I know I wasn’t alone. And by all accounts, it amplified the sense of excitement. The build-up was now flavoured with a rare spice that is only made available when sporting contests become personal. It’s what makes rivalries and derbies so special. The players themselves attest to this, how these hostilities help them reach extra heights on the pitch and compel their bodies into one more tackle, one more ruck, one more ball carry when the game is on the line.

Rugby must do away with self-righteousness. In 2012 the BBC pulled a Six Nations advert that remains, to this day, the most memorable promotion of the competition. In it, fans from Wales, Ireland, Scotland, France and Italy looked into the camera and yelled out “England!”, not in support, but in response to being asked which team they most wanted to beat.

The ad didn’t see the light of day until it was shared on YouTube. Tournament organisers were understood to have raised concerns with the BBC and it was re-edited before going to air. A BBC spokeswoman said: "The creative concept for the Six Nations trail was around fans being united in rivalry. We featured real fans from England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland in the trail all talking about who they wanted to beat. The non-English fans interviewed for the trail all wanted to beat England which made the first cut of the trail slightly unbalanced. We therefore changed the balance of the fans in the next edit to make the trail more representative.”

Ridiculous, right? Let’s give rugby fans some credit. Not all of us are snowflakes and shrinking violets. We can take a joke. We can handle criticism. And when we disagree or take offence, we voice our protestations and provide a counterargument. Of course this has the potential to veer into jingoism and poison - I’ve copped my fair share of abuse for opinions published on this site - but like a tenacious loose forward taking aim at another ruck, I’ve dusted myself off and made another dart. I’d like to think that I’m in the majority in this regard.

So let’s encourage more banter and hot-takes. Some might be utter nonsense. Some might even make you mad. But our sport would be poorer without them.