What happened to all the rugby enforcers?

A recent thread on this forum, regarding the possibility of one or two of the midweek provincial teams giving the Lions a hard time, touched on the subject of infamous pieces of past thuggery.

Many Roarers aired their particular grievances, but nobody talked about enforcers who are, let’s say, heavies who get into trouble only now and then.

Enforcers used to be an integral part of the game, but they’ve almost died out. Some would say good riddance.

A team’s enforcer was a retaliator, a man who, intolerant of foul play, would deal with the perp but within the limits of the law, sort of.

At various times, every country had one in their national team.

England, for example, had the prince of intimidators: Martin Johnson. It always amused me to see the ref ask the captains of both teams to tell their guys to cool it, a futile request as England’s captain, Jonno, was the main culprit.

Red Rose historians can also list others who’d accept no-nonsense, like Wade Dooley, Danny Grewcock, Mike Teague, Gareth Chillcott and Simon Shaw who’s still playing, for Toulon, at age 39.

Shaw’s not quite the assassin he once was and neither is his second row partner Bakkies Botha, thank heavens.

Bakkies is one player who, early in his Springbok career, crossed the threshhold of principal enforcer and became chief goon.

The All Blacks’ enforcers, on the other hand, have tended to be hard men rather than back alley footpads, except for guys like Ali Williams, who was a bit of a stamper in his international days, and Brad Thorn, who’d strenuously object should any teammate be roughly handled.

Some of the Kiwi number eights, like Wayne Shelford, could also dish it out when occasion demanded. In one Test match against France, when his young and bumptious opposite number went a mite too far, Wayne, instead of tackling him, clocked him with a haymaker in full view of the ref.

I recall the English commentator saying the Frenchman had got his just deserts.

The Welsh like to boast about Craig Quinnell, heavier and tougher than the biggest club bouncer, who collected red and yellow cards like some people collect postage stamps.

The Scots could count on John Jeffries to punish wayward opposition, and the French would send Eric Champ and later Sebastian Chabal to settle somebody’s hash.

The Irish have a splendid enforcer who’s still playing, and playing very well. I speak, of course, of Paul O’Connell, who’s coming out here with the Lions next month.

POC plays with angry intensity every minute he’s on the field, and James Horwill and Rob Simmons, neither of whom are red-eyed dragons, will struggle to contain him.

The Wallabies have always been a little short of enforcers.

Owen Finegan kept a stern eye on unruly opposites, as did David Giffin and Garrick Morgan, but the game has changed.

As one coach explained it, “It’s no longer about throwing punches and being the last man standing. The current generation is leaner, faster and better conditioned than those who’ve gone before.

“We don’t create slow-moving monsters now. The concentration is on improving skill sets, on becoming more athletic.

“Also, the use of different back-line receivers in attack and defence has deprived rugby of man-on-man confrontations over 80 minutes which once defined the reputations of the game’s great hard men.”

Hard men is something Australian rugby never lacked. Some time back, Waratah coach Michael Cheika was voted by players of his era as the toughest guy they ever faced. And it’s hard to forget Nathan Grey being absolutely totaled by a charging Jonah Lomu and getting straight to his feet again.

Toutai Kefu, Willie Ofahengaue, Jim Williams, all hard men. Which of the current Wallabies, besides Tatafu Polota-Nau, fit that description now? Precious few, if any.

The Lions forwards, however, have several iron men, and the Wallabies are going to have to front up big time come June 22.

So it looks like we need more than a clever playmaker, we also need a strict enforcer. Any volunteers?