Unexpected twists and turns are the raison d’etre of major tournaments. The opening weekend of the 2023 Rugby World Cup contained plenty, from England’s 14-man tour de force against Argentina to the thrills and spills of the Wales-Fiji game in Bordeaux. At its best, rugby union delivers as much passion, drama and intensity as any team sport.
What about Manie Libbok’s fabulous no-look cross-kick for Kurt-Lee Arendse’s try against Scotland, as skilful a piece of deception as you will see? Or George Ford’s hat-trick of drop goals? Not forgetting the round of applause in Marseille’s old town cafes when the scrum-half Gabriel Rupanu briefly put Romania ahead with an early try against Ireland.
Perhaps, instead, you preferred the impromptu Welsh choirs in the centre of Bordeaux, the bouncing enthusiasm of thousands of France and Argentina fans or kilted Scots and green-shirted Bokke diehards mixing happily in the Mediterranean sunshine. Or Fiji’s revival. Had they managed a last-gasp try to complete a stunning comeback at Wales’s expense, the post-match visuals would have been seriously epic.
And yet. Rugby has so much to offer the neutral fan but it still struggles badly when it comes to refereeing and disciplinary consistency. No surprise, perhaps, given the litany of laws and sub-clauses and the near-impossible job facing referees. But if a primary aim of a World Cup is to woo new fans rather than leave everyone looking confused, the opening weekend once again raised more questions than it answered.
We do not yet know, for example, whether the high-profile sending-off of England’s Tom Curry, the earliest red card in World Cup history, will definitely be upheld when his case is heard this week. If it is, what about a number of other head clashes over the weekend? On social media an awful lot of people are discussing Curry’s collision with Juan Cruz Malliá and wondering why South Africa’s Jesse Kriel, Chile’s Martín Sigren and Wales’s Dan Biggar received lesser sanctions.
These are precisely the conversations rugby’s authorities did not want to hear in the early days of the competition. The beefed-up “bunker review” system, now involving two officials, was meant to reduce the uncertainty and jeopardy. Instead there are still far too many shades of grey. Or, to be a touch more accurate, shades of rosé. When is a red not a red? And vice versa? Not everyone seems wholly sure.
This matters hugely because the margins between the leading teams are tighter than they have ever been. What if England had lost to Argentina having played almost the entire game with 14 players, only for Curry’s card to be subsequently rescinded? And if Curry’s red is downgraded back to a yellow, what does that say about the whole bunker concept?
The pre-tournament argument was that everything would be OK, with the governing body, World Rugby, fully in control of the disciplinary process. As such, there is less reason to challenge panel rulings as happened during the Owen Farrell saga last month.
Equally, though, it permits fewer excuses. If consistency continues to be frustratingly elusive when teams are playing in the same country at the same time in the same conditions with the same group of officials, what hope is there for anybody else?
It is a mixed blessing, too, that only two replays are available to the on-field referee, the aim being to refer incidents more quickly and not disrupt the flow of the game unduly. The flip side is that supporters inside venues are being left in the dark, unsure whether they have just witnessed something trivial or absolutely pivotal. At the very least more big-screen information needs to be available. And why not make more dramatic use of graphics or audio-enhanced tension when verdicts are publicly announced, as they do with run-out or stumping decisions in cricket?
Amid all this confusion – intent is not part of the equation – there is also another fundamental flaw. Is it actually possible, in every case, to arrive at an objective and definitive decision? Are the bunker occupants back in Paris viewing incidents in their full context? Or is there a crucial disconnect between poring over slow-motion footage in a darkened video room and playing high-speed contact sport at the highest possible level?
Possibly more concerning than all of this is a wider question. Marginally misjudged high tackles are not, in the end, the source of most disquiet among supporters of all nations. Wales’s valour and defensive appetite against Fiji were remarkable but did both sides receive strictly equal treatment? When a so-called ‘tier one’ nation is repeatedly penalised close to their own line and receives merely a warning, only for a ‘tier two’ side to have a player sent to the sin-bin for a solitary offence at the other end immediately afterwards, accusations of unfairness are inevitable.
The history of the modern game is littered with similar examples. But even taking into account the fact certain penalties are viewed as more cynical than others, it further underlines rugby’s ability to baffle new supporters. What about the no-arms tackle that seemed to deny Fiji on the Welsh line? Should it have been an automatic penalty try? Or should a ‘captain’s referral’ be made available to sides in the last 10 minutes of games to reduce the chance of major miscarriages of justice? If this World Cup is to maximise its huge potential, rugby urgently needs clearer, more consistent officiating.
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