The most pertinent rugby quote of 2016, inevitably, came from Eddie Jones. “There’s only pressure when you don’t know what you’re doing,” murmured England’s head coach shortly before guiding his adopted country to their 13th Test victory of a perfect calendar year. As a short, sharp Twitter-friendly summation of how and why the Australian guru has turned English fortunes around, it was inch-perfect.
What would England’s national cricket and football teams do for a milligram of Jones’s self-assurance right now? Maybe the government should give him a call: who better to negotiate a workable Brexit deal from a standing start? It is easy enough, too, to imagine him discussing the art of influential leadership with the US president-elect: “Trumpy, mate, come over to Twickenham and I’ll show you how it’s done.” The tide of global history could be turned for ever.
In a post-truth world almost anything is feasible if enough people want to believe it. Rugby has long been familiar with this concept. How else can the charms of a murderous eight-man shove or the monarch-of-the-glen beauty of a ripe cauliflower ear be rationally explained? Perception is important; if no one cares there can be no such thing as great sport.
Which is why, heading into 2017, the future shape of professional rugby union badly needs clarification.
On the one hand this should be a glorious 12 months, potentially even better than the last, with a British & Irish Lions tour of New Zealand twinkling at its heart. On the other the pro game, now more than two decades old, is mutating from gung-ho adolescence into brutal adulthood.
What was a sport for all shapes and sizes, both physically and financially, grows ever less forgiving on both fronts.
Only the most unashamed oval-ball politician or one-eyed Barnum could claim things have never been healthier. In terms of global spread, admittedly, the graph is encouraging, while the 2015 World Cup generated £2.3bn in overall economic output, including a £1.1bn boost to the UK’s GDP figures.
The Olympics were an inspiring advertisement for sevens; no one who saw Fiji’s giant, modest gladiators kneel to accept their gold medals could fail to salute their humility and joy. The outpouring of passion and local pride aroused by the passing of Munster’s Anthony Foley also showed rugby’s soul remains intact.
Even so, there is a sense that, Jones aside, the game has never been more unsure of itself in more respects. Where, exactly, does rugby want to be not just next Christmas but 30 years hence? Does it embrace sevens or 15s as its best vehicle for long-term growth? Does it want to be a game weighted more towards elusive backs than mastodon forwards?
With the spectre of concussion not disappearing, will it embark down the road of safer collisions and alienate traditional fans or attract the lawsuits seen in American gridiron?
How many fully professional English clubs should there be? In other words, should it stick or twist? If ever there was a need for rugby men with vision, conviction and an unswerving belief in the greater good, it is now.
Happily, World Rugby now has Bill Beaumont and Agustin Pichot at the helm; between them they have the necessary human qualities and, in Pichot’s case, the youthful optimism.
Following a meeting in San Francisco at the end of January, we are promised an announcement on the future shape of the global season. With sweeping changes looming in French rugby under the new chairmanship of Bernard Laporte, a more enlightened era might be on its way.
Nothing, even so, is yet guaranteed. The continuing self-interest of some administrators remains depressing, as is the failure to appreciate global rugby is only as strong as its weakest link. The revolution, to misquote Billy Bragg, is more than just a T-shirt away.
It will seem crazy to future historians that Test eligibility was allowed to become so skewed towards countries boasting wealthy leagues—fair play to Laporte for insisting only French passport holders will henceforth be eligible for Les Bleus—or that the two best sides in the world could not meet outside World Cups because of a squabble over gate profits.
At least the All Blacks will face the Lions in a seismic series that, with luck, will restore everyone’s faith. It will be desperately tough for the touring team, with both their preparation time and itinerary bordering on the scandalous. But who would not want to see a lumpy Anglo-Irish pack, perhaps led by Alun Wyn Jones, get stuck into New Zealand in the Tests, challenging the gifted Aaron Smith, Beauden Barrett and Ben Smith to sparkle in adversity? For every individual to whom the Lions are an anachronism, another 100 would mortgage their grannies for a ticket.
Aside from Saracens’ ongoing status as the Premiership team to beat, the only other sure thing in 2017 is that England under Jones will remain box office. The antipodean alchemist was spot on before Christmas when he insisted his side still had considerable room from improvement and the Six Nations, complete with bonus points, will be fascinating.
At the moment Ireland rank above them, with the final Dublin showdown between the two sides in March already a magnet for the imagination. If Joe Schmidt’s side can step it up and Scotland, France and Italy continue to improve it could be a Championship for the ages.
It would also help if more coaches—and players—reminded themselves that sporting life is to be grasped, relished and celebrated. What is the point in winning the league and looking as bored by the whole thing as Leicester City’s players did on stage at the BBC’s Sports Personality of the Year awards?
Rugby union, with its relative lack of terrestrial telly exposure, defensive media relations and political in-fighting, does not currently have many globally recognisable stars. In 2017 it needs to heed Jones’s advice, work out precisely what sort of sport it wants to be, and then go for it.
England rugby head coach Eddie Jones.
