I’m not keen on rugby, but normally it’s pretty easy to avoid. Club matches get only token coverage on the BBC, with a few scores or an update on Johnny Wilkinson’s knee. And then we can quickly get back to football, the proper game. But this World Cup is getting on my nerves. It seems to have been going on for months. And it's been getting blanket coverage on the BBC. Can someone just win the bloody thing and put us out of our misery.
It’s not that rugby doesn’t have its beautiful moments. Who could not be thrilled by the sight of some swift passing and running with the ball, a mass brawl with posh chaps punching each other, or (best of all) the final whistle. But these moments are pretty rare. I would have thought that a typical match contains about 4 minutes of anything vaguely worth watching vaguely. The rest is just a mixture of dull and bewildering.
And it’s such a stupid game. 5 points for a try (such a short word for what is often a wonderful mix of pace, wit and sheer brute force). ‘Try’? ‘Genuine Achievement’ would be more apt. On the other hand, 3 points for a penalty kick. I’ve rarely much understanding of why a penalty has been given. The referee even has a microphone to explain it all to the spectators, but it leaves me none the wiser. And penalties are given all the time, anywhere on the pitch. The result is inevitable. Games tend to get decided by penalties. So England beat Australia by not scoring any tries; and Australia suffer a humiliating defeat by… er…scoring the only try of the game. As I write this, the world cup final is, predictably, being decided by penalties, effectively which team cheats the least….. Someone gets a penalty for some unknown reason and a bloke kicks the ball, gets three points, and they all live happily ever after. Why not just toss a coin and be done with it?
There’s also the class issue. It’s a game that, in most places, has a marked middle class identity. The commentators bray in a particular manner. There’s an abundance of plumy accents amongst the players. And, mysteriously, South Africa seems to have a shortage of black players. Up here in Scotland, rugger tends to attract the chaps (and chapettes) who affect English accents, at the same time proudly sporting their kilts and burberrys. And they only turn up for the internationals. Club matches are attended by three men and a dog. And two of them came by mistake.
… there I feel better now. I’ll just get my breath back and I’ll be fine.
