By Dave Wheelock
Rugby Union Football is getting a lot of attention these days. At least by U.S. standards. In October it was announced the popular seven-man version of rugby is to be reinstated to Olympic status in Rio de Janiero in 2016. Two weeks ago, Clint Eastwood's film Invictus, portraying Nelson Mandela's complex relationship with South African rugby during the 1995 Rugby World Cup, premiered in mainstream theaters across the U.S. And last week a Wall Street Journal article titled What Rugby Taught BofA’s Moynihan features the playing career of the former Brown and Yale man freshly appointed CEO of Bank of America. What remains to be seen is how rugby survives its current form of success.
For those of us intimately involved with rugby in the United States, such widespread exposure would seem to be a dream coming true. Ever since men’s and then women’s rugby exploded on American campuses in the 1960s and -70s after decades of hiatus, we have dreamed and strived for a time when all Americans with an appreciation of sport - whether male or female, player or spectator - would have exposure to “the game they play in heaven.” Once they did, millions of Americans would, like us, become “hooked” - if not through actually playing the game, then by its fascinating spectacle and culture.
I use the term “sport” to specify athletic endeavor with an intent beyond simply winning, what you might call an ethic. For me, rugby has always embodied both a fiercely competitive contest and the maintenance of a kind of sportsmanship arising from self-discipline and respect for one’s opponent. Indeed, a sport so largely defined by physical confrontation could only survive with this understanding, jealously guarded and passed on by elders of the sport for over 180 years.
From the origins of organized rugby among upper-class students in 1820s England, the first article in rugby union’s law book has been a declaration of strict amateurism. No one - players, coaches, officials, or even those who wrote of their exploits in the game, were allowed to accept any compensation. Undoubtedly the policy originally served upper-class gatekeepers’ desires to bar those without the luxury of leisure time, yet in more recent years it was also seen as a way to ward off the win-at-all-costs attitude that was criticized in other sports - notably Rugby League, a version that went its separate, professional, way in the 1890s.
But rugby did not exist in a vacuum. As the “free trade” economic theories of University of Chicago economist Milton Friedman gained influence in Washington and were spread throughout the world via neoliberal trade policy, powerful pressures developed for rugby to go pro. In Friedman’s brave new world, profit-taking became its own justification, and concentrated capital went on the prowl for new cash cows. As government spending for public services like local sports councils was cut around the world, athletic clubs of all stripes went on the block or passed into memory.
At the same time, top Rugby Union players began to jump ship to collect Rugby League salaries, and under-the-table payments to prevent the drain from Union increased. Finally, the all-too-obvious spectacle of “shamateurism” became too much, and Rugby Union’s international governing body officially allowed open professionalism in 1995.
Thus has modern rugby provided a unique and fascinating laboratory for the effects of professionalism on sport - for those with an eye for such things.
I played in both of rugby’s eras, taking up the oval ball in 1972 and hanging up my boots (unofficially, mind you) in 2000. While I won’t claim my playing abilities rose to a level that would warrant a salary in a major rugby country, I sampled the game in six other countries and have for eleven years been employed as a collegiate coach. Prior to this I played the American version of rugby, gridiron football, into college.
In my opinion the most corrosive effects of sports professionalism are on display in American football. At the highest level of play, the National Football League, the game has nearly ceased being sport at all, existing instead as a hyper-promoted shell for the televised marketing of consumer goods. This model, and more importantly, the win-at-all-costs business mentality that pervades it, exists with few modifications at the collegiate and even high school levels. Most sadly, it is not uncommon to witness pee wee grade players being berated by coaches and parents.
Professional rugby has begun to exhibit some of these traits, as wealthy owners and business professionals have moved in to acquire “properties” groaning under the weight of player contracts, increased travel costs, and professional staffs. Once-modest ticket prices have multiplied to a challenging level even as hallowed stadiums long associated with storied rugby clubs increasingly adopt corporate names. Injury rates have increased alarmingly due to the increased size and strength of athletes able to train full time, coupled with a new fascination with “the big hit,” imported directly from the American game. Player burnout is a major problem as owners seek to milk their “assets” for more profit.
Of all the many changes professionalism has brought to rugby, it is the attitudinal shifts which warrant closest scrutiny, since we know these are projected to younger players.
While I am not suggesting the genie of professionalism can or should be put back in rugby’s bottle, it is that institution long known as “the thinking man’s game” which offers the last best example of integrity in sport.
Dave Wheelock, a member of the Oneida Nation, coaches rugby and administers club sports at New Mexico Tech. Reach him at davewheelock@yahoo.com.
Mr. Wheelock's views do not necessarily represent those of the Mountain Mail.
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