One thing Poms do better than Aussies

Even with a passport from both Australia and the UK, and genetics that suggest I should reside somewhere north of France, there’s still not much I willingly admit that Brits do better than Aussies. But hosting Rugby League World Cups is one of them.

Rather than being a crack at the tournament just finished, I’d implore anyone who got a taste for the international game to start planning ahead for 2021, when the event returns to ‘The Motherland’.

Having been lucky enough to venture to several major international sporting events in the past 15 years (the last two FIFA World Cups included), the 2013 Rugby League World Cup in England, Wales, Ireland and France ranks up there with any of them for atmosphere, convenience and pure enjoyment.

Yep, I really did just say that.

This is despite Australia being far more dominant four years ago than they were in this most recent campaign, making the winner a fait accompli.

Obviously, we are not talking about the same scale of stadia or hullabaloo that an Olympics or Superbowl drums up, but for having out-and-out fun on a regular basis, a League World Cup in England ticks so many boxes.

It’s a short car ride or train trip from one venue to the next. Seeing three games in two days is no huge feat.

Each city has its own distinguishable culture, accent, beer.

It’s cheaper, fans are more interactive and theatrical, and you can visit any number of countries on your way to and from the tournament.

Mostly though, because rugby league is not anywhere near as pervasive in England as it is in Australia, you start to feel like you are part of an exclusive, supertight subculture.

I’ve previously described it as like visiting Comic-con, or going to watch a hair metal band, or entering a Scrabble tournament. If you’re into any of those things, it’s your chance to be among kindred spirits, while the rest of the world might think you’re a bit simple or a bit odd.

There’s something kind of cool about seeing many of the same faces week after week as the caravan rolls on, mixed in with new families who are experiencing the game for the first time. It develops a real community atmosphere. You feel part of something.

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One of the regular faces that kept popping up when I was in England for 2013 was Brian Davies.

Brian was from Wakefield, a mad Trinity fan, who saw an astonishing 24 games in total during the 2013 tournament.

There was a kind of unofficial competition between fans and even journalists to see who could get through the gate for the most games.

This time around, when the tournament was in Australia, Brian Davies saw only 12 games and three of those were double-headers, therefore he only attended nine match days. It wasn’t through lack of desire, but more so because of the distance between venues.

And that’s the key point in all this, and something you can’t really blame on promoters of the 2017 event – the Australian geography is a huge, inescapable hurdle to overcome, just as it will be in America in 2025.

It stands to reason that when the average fan budgets out attending a tournament in Australia, they have to sacrifice a significant part of that to either airfares or petrol.

Another mate of mine who is a huge international league enthusiast worked out that for him and his partner to get to seven event days at the 2017 World Cup, combined they spent exactly $2133 on domestic airfares, $1844 on accommodation, $400 on interstate car hire and only $394 on tickets.

This is a fella who could be considered quite miserly. Most flights were booked more than two months in advance. The Melbourne-Brisbane leg cost a slender $138 each. He wasn’t splashing his cash wantonly.

Of course, the government and tourism backers that lobbied for games will be happy the pie was divided thus. Yet imagine if most of that component for flights and interstate beds could be spent on merchandise, or more game tickets, or tours, or having a good time.

That means greater memories, more money back into the sport, a greater diversity of businesses receiving tourism dollars, and more in-depth cultural awareness and appreciation.

In October and November, a heap of rugby league fans’ moolah simply went back into tickling the underbellies of shareholders with Qantas, Virgin and Tiger.

Organisers have encouragingly announced that 39 British cities have expressed an interest in hosting games at the next Rugby League World Cup, keeping in mind the entire land mass of the British Isles fits into Queensland more than seven times.

Other tidbits of information 2021 organisers have let slip include that games will be spread throughout the week, not just consigned to weekends, there will be two additional nations competing, and 80 per cent of games will be in the vicinity of the M62 corridor from Liverpool to Hull.

All these elements conspire to promise a colourful, conveniently-mapped roadshow perfect for any league diehard who has a month off from work to burn.

For new enthusiasts in nations outside the Pacific, it also promises to be much simpler and more cost-effective to reach and follow.

(Photo: Daniel Wighton).

The tentatively-booked 2025 World Cup in North America is definitely something which excites me as the game looks to break new ground. I’ll be crossing my fingers it transforms the way the sport is perceived in that region of the world.

How they juggle the geographical challenges and scheduling will be a matter of ongoing intrigue, however. America has a population which dwarfs Australia’s, but far fewer rusted-on fans to rely upon.

It’s all well and good saying you shouldn’t be trying to attract the same people to every game; that every match should be a full house brimming with an entirely new crowd. But that’s just not reality, as attendance figures from the 2017 tournament attest.

Of course, organisers and local officials will be hopeful the British and Antipodean communities travel across the seas to support the cause. But what will be the perfect mix between opening the sport to new frontiers and spreading the diehards too thin?

Do you keep the host cities condensed around New York, or do you try and place a game in every corner of the continent?

Sure, it all comes down to broadcast dollars at the end of the day, not gate takings, but if you’re trying to win over a new continent, it certainly doesn’t hurt to send home virgin punters raving about the atmosphere they’ve just experienced.

I don’t envy those entrusted with what will be a tough balancing act.

In the meantime, do yourself a favour and get to the 2021 event. You won’t regret it.