The breathless headlines looked exciting. “Global rebel league” and “Rugby revolution” are certainly catchy and guaranteed to attract clicks. As with the Kerry Packer cricket circus in the 1970s and the more recent LIV golf saga, sport’s traditional overlords can periodically be blindsided by wealthy interlopers who claim they can do better.
At a time when rugby could clearly do with some major fresh investment the timing was tantalising, too. One million quid a year on offer to the best 40 players? No wonder a few of them – anonymously, of course – have expressed provisional interest in grabbing the nearest available pen and signing up. The key word there, of course, being provisional. It would all depend, naturally, on the precise nitty-gritty of the enterprise being floated.
Theoretically the idea is to replicate the Formula One model and stage 14 weekends of top-class rugby around the world, complete with a bit more pit lane glamour than you normally get at Dragons v Zebre. Eight men’s franchises, around 280 of the world’s top players involved, host venues in new markets, all dovetailing neatly with the existing international programme. Someone, somewhere has clearly done some extravagant doodling on the back of a beermat. And then paid a well-connected firm of intermediaries to fly the whole kite as high as possible, via a couple of obliging media outlets, to gauge the potential public appetite.
At which point, for anyone who has seen various other revolutionary goldrush proposals come and go over the years, reality crashes through the saloon doors and takes its usual seat at the bar. It is certainly a pity the instigators did not come to the Breakdown in advance for a little free, unsolicited advice. Because there is an overwhelmingly good reason why these schemes never come to fruition and it is this: the people behind them fail to grasp what rugby union is ultimately about.
In particular, they ignore the essence of the game’s appeal to fans and players. Money is nice, obviously, but rugby is also about heartfelt passion, genuine communal pride and following in a grand tradition. It is about giving everything for the team, region or country you represent and embracing a cause bigger than yourself. And, if you are good enough, playing in competitions and jerseys that matter hugely to yourself and the paying public.
What it is not about is organising plastic Mickey Mouse leagues, financed by people with more money than wise judgment, aimed at fans who might be gullible enough to think they are witnessing something vaguely meaningful. The Arizona Muskrats v the Paris Musketeers, anyone? Allianz London against the Emirates Kings? With all fixtures staged in different cities around the world? Let’s just say the concept has one or two logistical hurdles to clear first.
What about the existing domestic leagues that would end up being cannibalised or terminally trashed? And the thousands of disenfranchised fans it would directly affect? Money might talk in professional golf but rugby is first and foremost a team game. Can you really see Antoine Dupont, the world’s best player, abandoning France and Toulouse at the drop of a chapeau? Or the French federation and Top 14 backers shrugging their shoulders and admitting instant defeat?
Yes, a shorter season and better player welfare might sound attractive, only to become instantly less so if it means forfeiting the right to play Test rugby or participate at World Cups. The chances of the Rugby Football Union, having just agreed a new long-term deal with the leading English clubs which includes enhanced access to the top players, approving that scenario are somewhere between slim and zero. And slim is away visiting his rural relatives.
It seems the US-based backers stumping up the initial cash for the targeted PR offensive have the Indian Premier League in mind as a template. That conveniently overlooks the fact cricket was already a religion in India, with a potential domestic audience of millions already available. If F1 is also a potential model, they might also want to remember rugby players get injured more regularly than in most other sports. You don’t see Max Verstappen sitting out a couple of grands prix with a groin strain.
We could go on and on. Are these people not aware rugby already has its own travelling circus for men and women with stop-offs around the globe? It is called the world sevens circuit and, in addition to being increasingly expensive, has lately been battling to retain its appeal. If rugby wants something to grab more neutral eyeballs worldwide it should be looking to grow its Olympic footprint and investing in international forms of the game that more than half a dozen countries have a realistic chance of winning.
Apart from anything else, too, this proposed new venture has a sickeningly artificial feel to it, a sugar rush that will be hard to sustain if it ever sees the light of day. Who will remotely care if the Muskrats beat the Kings in Chicago on a Friday evening? Admittedly rugby has to find other ways to pay the bills but cutting the oxygen supply to its grassroots and pouring more money into the pockets of a few is not the way to achieve it.
The alternatives? If the professional club game can’t sustain itself financially outside two or three domestic markets, so be it. International rugby, as shown at the weekend, has rarely been more attractive. World Cups, Lions tours and tournaments such as the Six Nations already offer players the chance to enhance their global profiles. Supporters absolutely care who wins and do not have to jump on a plane to Riyadh or Rio to watch live games. Revolution Ruck? A game-changing new chapter for rugby? Good luck with that.
• This is an extract taken from our weekly rugby union email, the Breakdown. To sign up, just visit this page and follow the instructions.
