Loose Pass: Looking back and forward, and a good read

David Skippers

This week we will mostly be concerning ourselves with a look back, a look forward and a good book…

A look back…

So that was 2020. What was left of it anyway. When you look back on years, it’s normally with a sense of nostalgia, a recall of tries so distant that you end up surprised it was still the same year, memories of players for two different clubs, silverware hoisted, full stadia erupting with joy and admiration, singing, flags waving…

Not this year. We can remember Exeter’s march to all things silver but sadly only in front of empty seats. There’s only so far fireworks on a screen can go to drum up the necessary razzamatazz, and spare a thought for the poor lonely masked souls who had to go around afterwards hoovering up the confetti.

At least they managed to do it in the right year though. In South Africa, the 2020 Currie Cup is reaching the end of its pool stage in high summer including games on Boxing Day, a ludicrous burden to place on players in a country which has, as this article goes to press, just entered its third level of five of lockdown due to the surge in cases. The final, if they make it, will be in late January.

Indeed, one of the most notable aspects of 2020 has been the complete absence of the world champions from start to finish. The Springboks are unlikely to play again until June at the earliest, and given the corruption scandal starting to emerge around its union and its CEO, coupled with the increasing effects of the pandemic it’ll be interesting to see if even that is possible. A worst-case scenario has it at around 20 months without a game for South Africa, an extraordinary interruption.

But back to results. Standout result of the year was surely Argentina’s buttressing of the theory, expounded by South Africa, that you’d need 4-500 minutes of competitive rugby to be back in shape for full-intensity international competition. Argentina had less than half that, against sub-provincial opposition, yet went out and beat the All Blacks first up, as momentous a rugby event as Japan beating South Africa in 2015. Again, the requisite crowds were sadly absent – just as they were for Alun Wyn Jones’ proud trot onto the field as rugby’s most-capped international.

That was in a Six Nations match in October, only the second time that has happened. England won that, and won the Autumn Nations Cup too, a tournament marked by a whole host of firsts everywhere but on the pitch where the quality of the rugby was often much akin to the quality of the atmosphere produced by overloud tannoys, pitchside flamethrowers and empty seats.

Only in New Zealand was there a full taste of something we had been hankering for. Full stadia, rip-roaring rugby, a cracking finale. Oh, for a global recovery like this one. The wait, sadly, could take some time, but at least we can look forward to the combined New Zealand-Australia version of it in February.

No, 2020 was not a rugby year to look back on with nostalgia. But it should go on record that a huge number of people, unknown, unseen, unnamed, have made it possible for rugby to at least happen at some levels, to be on our screens, for some semblance of normality. And the dedication of a huge number of players, making sacrifice after sacrifice, staying in bubble after bubble, skipping family occasion after family occasion to ensure their health and availability, has ensured that if we can’t play, coach, watch and drink beers at our local club, we can still get our little fixes of the game while we wait for the end of this dreadful pandemic. They all deserve our appreciation and a glass raised to them as we head into 2021…

And forward…

Let’s imagine for a moment. Pretend the pandemic has gone. That gates are open, flights are in the air, preparation of athletes is on point and concussion is under control. What could 2021 bring?

There’ll be a European final double-header in Marseille, for example, a weekend that in normal times would be a real highlight – especially as, on current form, there’ll certainly be French teams involved.

The Lions go on tour to South Africa, once again touring the rainbow nation at a moment when the hosts are world champions.

There is also the distinct possibility of the highest-profile and best quality Women’s World Cup ever, a real fillip for the game’s profile and an opportunity to vastly expand participation on and off the field.

Competitions may arise from the ashes of 2020. Could the Rainbow Cup, involving South African and PRO14 teams, become a permanent fixture? Could the Super Rugby Trans-Tasman do the same? If America gets its pandemic under control, will Major League Rugby continue to grow in both quality and profile?

Perhaps most pertinently, will administrators, organisers and managers learn from the mistakes the pandemic has laid bare, and put the game on a sustainable financial footing and address robustly the now-unmistakeable concussion crisis enveloping the sport? 2021 is full of possibilities if the pandemic is conquered and the game does it right.

A good read

Professional rugby memoirs have about a one-in-five success rate of being genuinely open and interesting most of the time; far more interesting are still the ones which talk about the game in the older sense, of the places toured, the beers drunk, the friends made and the high-jinks stories. While it’s always curiosity-piquing to get a first-hand account of pros and their preparations and lives, many professional players are fine people, but have remarkably dull stories and lives. Yet the social side alone can also get somewhat monotonous: there’s only so many stories you can hear about competitive drinking and ill-timed stomach upsets before they all get a little samey.

I was Christmas-gifted a book that bridges the divide between dull pro and active social fun extremely well, and should be mandatory reading for anyone who has an interest in both playing hard and playing hard, as well as inhaling all the multi-cultural facets rugby can offer.

Fringes, by Ben Mercer, details the author’s four years spent climbing up the French league ladder at Rouen, a project club outside the French rugby heartlands backed by a couple of moneyed investors.

He goes through the whole gamut of emotions, from hope and excitement, to culture shock, to paranoia as the investors get cold feet and the paychecks are late, to outright fury as he finds himself jettisoned in the twilight of his career. But he also tells the stories of his team-mates, an often-hastily assembled troupe from all corners, all running their own paths through the same emotions and crises.

Addressing any number of additional issues along the way, such as openly gay team-mates and how it looks when a team starts to mutiny, the book is a fine story of both self-recognition and development. It is also an inside look into the murky waters of the quasi-professional game currently to be found in so many corners of the world, with its rampant egos, delusional participants, mildly insane administrators and occasional freak show characters.

A gripping read – almost an instruction manual warning of the many and various pitfalls – for any young, good quality aspiring player not quite making the full dream and looking to pursue a new challenge.

Loose Pass compiled by Lawrence Nolan