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Opinion
It’s been one heck of an off-season, dominated by the only two people more desperate for money than Rugby Australia, Harry and Meghan.
And in true PR fashion, just as they seemed to finally be fading from the limelight, out popped 40-year-old digger driver, Sasha Walpole on the weekend, to tell the world how it was her who took 16-year-old Harry’s virginity in a meadow behind a pub, and that they’ve never spoken since; putting her in the same boat as his father and brother.
Eddie Jones reprising the Beatles hit ‘Hello Goodbye’ swept the charts pre-Xmas in England and post Xmas in Australia, in a blaze of publicity that shows no signs of abating.
Whatever happens with Jones – a World Cup win in Paris, a spectacular crash and burn or all points in between – expectations have been set higher than Cheech and Chong during filming of their 1978 stoner classic, ‘Up in Smoke’.
To Jones’ credit, his feet have hardly touched the ground since his return home; the new Wallabies coach happy to carry the weight of expectation on his shoulders, magnanimously delivering the kind of PR blitz Rugby Australia chairman Hamish McLennan envisioned upon his signing.
On a personal note, I sent a message to Jones in the week following his appointment asking, more in hope than conviction, if he would attend and speak at a rugby lunch in Melbourne, prior to Super Round. His reply was almost instant; “Ok mate, I’m in.”
Now with his own weekly podcast, it seems that Jones is omnipresent. Again, that’s another welcome shot into the veins of a jaded and beaten rugby public, desperate to believe once again.
But at some point, expectations will need to be tempered. When the serious business of putting his first Wallabies squad together arrives, podcast listeners will likely be left wanting; Jones surely unable to satisfy their wish to analyse and talk specifics about players and coaches.
It feels like an awful amount is being asked of one man. But for now, with old rugby stagers dribbling excitedly into their beer, and teenage girls fainting on the streets of Coogee, Eddie-mania is here to stay.
Jones’ appointment – and Dave Rennie’s sudden exit – wasn’t the only surprise of the off-season.
Based on pre-sales, Rugby Australia had expectations of around 30,000 fans attending the Sydney leg of the World Sevens, and were pleasantly surprised to find double that number walk through the gates of the new Sydney Football Stadium.
That number included a sizeable chunk of Pasifika heritage fans. How many of those people return to watch Super Rugby, is the million-dollar question.
If they do, they’ll be very unlikely to see Kurtley Beale in action; Beale currently stood down by the Waratahs in the wake of four charges of sexual assault laid against him in January.
It’s a truism that most players and coaches don’t get to leave the sport on their own terms. But if this is the end of the rugby road for Beale – and let’s not forget there are others involved who are suffering – there can have been few sadder endings to a Wallabies career than this.
Overseas, Springbok halfback Faf De Klerk had a rough start to the new year, welcomed to Japanese rugby by an ugly challenge by Aaron Cruden, which saw the 50-Test All Black handed a red card and a two-match suspension.
De Klerk then faced accusations from a South African policeman that he racially abused him and threatened to hack him to death; charges that De Klerk vehemently denied, his defence somewhat strengthened after it was established that he was in Japan at the time of the supposed incident.
As if that wasn’t enough, De Klerk was also forced to deny ever having owned or driven a Toyota Corolla; a heinous slur that De Klerk appeared to be more upset about than the threatening to kill charges.
Owen Farrell was another who couldn’t escape the spotlight, his twitchy shoulder once again keeping him front and centre. Suspended in January for a hit on Gloucester’s Jack Clement, Farrell was deemed ineligible for the standard ‘good bloke’ discount, and copped four weeks.
Not to worry, a week was shaved off anyway, with Farrell taking his place for England against Scotland in their Six Nations opener after submitting to World Rugby’s coaching intervention program, commonly known as ‘tackle school’.
Two obvious questions arise. How exactly would Farrell’s predilection to taking opponents out with his shoulder – problematic throughout his career – be suddenly remedied by the mere nature of him completing what amounts to an on-line module?
And further, if it is so easy to fix wayward tackle techniques through this intervention, why aren’t ALL players subject to the program, BEFORE they hit their opponents in the head, not after?
Campbell Johnstone made history of sorts, becoming the first All Black to out himself as gay, in an announcement that, for the most part, got precisely the muted “so what?” type of reaction it should have.
After all, it’s 2023, not 1963, and no-one bats an eyelid at members of the Black Ferns being in same sex relationships. For any other players in Johnstone’s position, his selfless act may well encourage them to do the same. But it is the mature response of the New Zealand public and media that should provide them with the most comfort.
Clearly not gay, one of the original moonwalkers, Buzz Aldrin caught the eye in January, marrying his fourth wife, Anca Faur, at the grand old age of 93. The lesson there for young players is to have a name like Buzz; something that immediately sets up a promise to a beau that time spent in the boudoir will pay dividends.
Predictably, a stoush has developed between Melbourne and Sydney to obtain hosting rights for the 2027 World Cup final. In the best IOC and FIFA traditions, having to endure being schmoozed by Melbourne and Sydney proved too much for World Rugby boss Alan Gilpin, who last week, could only say, “more research is needed.” Of course.
Don’t be fooled into believing that the number of rectangular stadiums and other infrastructure, or the number of rugby participants in each state matters. Whichever state offers the most money will get the final. And right now, with New South Wales looking likely to elect a new premier who may not have the confidence to face up to criticism for frittering away millions of dollars on a sporting event, the smart money is on Melbourne.
Not so smart was the decision by the Wales Rugby Union to make a song and dance about excluding the time-worn Tom Jones classic ‘Delilah’, from the match-day repertoire for rugby internationals.
Yes, the song tells the tale of a man taking to his unfaithful lover with a knife; something that, jilted or wronged, none of us should ever contemplate. But that’s just it, it’s a made-up song, not a template for how to live one’s life. A story based, as it happens, on Bizet’s opera ‘Carmen’, which seems to have been enjoyed by many, without calls for it to be banned, since it was first performed in 1875.
‘Delilah’ is no more a call for male rugby fans to commit domestic violence on their partners than one of Jones’ other hits, ‘The Green, Green Grass of Home’, is a call for them to choof away in the valleys, Cheech and Chong style.
Remember that the Wales Rugby Union currently stands accused of harbouring a toxic workplace culture, with ex-employees citing examples of sexism and misogyny. Thousands of Welsh fans belting out the song before and during Saturday’s match against Ireland would suggest that, to earn respect and convince people that their ways have been mended, the administration will need to demonstrate actions far more substantive than this flimsy slice of virtue signalling.
Another obvious point being missed is if they were so desperate to play god almighty and do something actually appreciated and welcomed by fans, they could start by banning ‘Sweet Caroline’ instead.
Questionable domestic behaviour was also to the fore in Tasmania, with news that a local couple, a 57-year-old man and a 54-year-old woman, have been charged with filming a sex act with a live trout.
Not strictly rugby news I admit, but sometimes there are stories that are difficult to walk past. Having grown up near the renowned trout fishing areas of New Zealand’s Lake Taupo and Tongariro River, and having witnessed keen fishermen make pilgrimages to the region, at least I now know what all the fuss was about.
The best news from the off-season is that there is no longer an off-season. All local Super Rugby sides are now in ‘trial’ mode, with the dust and cobwebs being shaken off, while the always much-anticipated Six Nations kicked off again, 140 years after the first ‘home nations’ tournament, which was won by England.
It will take something special for England to win this one, after their opening round loss to Scotland 29-23, proved one of rugby’s oldest adages; you don’t mess with the Duhan!
(Photo by Mark Thompson/Getty Images)
Duhan van der Merwe’s scything 57 metre run for his first half score was notable for how difficult he proved to tackle, despite five defenders – most notably Alex Dombrandt – all appearing to have a good shot on him.
Van der Merwe’s finish for the match winning try in the 74th minute was just as impressive, albeit made possible by a superb catch and pass in centre-field by man-mountain Richie Gray.
Post-Eddie, England under Steve Borthwick looked very much like, well… England. Solid and efficient in patches, brittle in others, and still needing to solve the conundrum that is Marcus Smith and Owen Farrell playing alongside each other at 10 and 12.
Also playing true to type were Ireland; simply too efficient for Wales, in their 34-10 win in Cardiff. The thing about Ireland is that the opposition knows exactly what they’re going to get; a relentless blend of fizz and irresistible support play, right from the first whistle.
But knowing about it and doing something about it are two different things; a task that the too-passive Welsh goal-line defence wasn’t up to. If they can fix their attacking lineout, Wales will still have a role to play in this championship, but – without yet having seen France play against Italy overnight – it already feels like the tournament-defining match will play out early, next weekend in Dublin, Ireland versus France.
That should leave plenty of time for everyone else to dream wistfully of what might happen between now and Saturday the 28th October, in Paris. Or to go trout fishing.