.. past the aged beef of the veldt. Whilst I follow in descending order of hope the All Blacks and the Wallabies at the end of the day I would rather see a good game and my team beaten than otherwise. So I don’t really think that New Zealand deserved to win the final of the last World Cup against the French who turned up, as they occasionally but unpredictably do, to play brilliant rugby only to be defeated by a play-safe and very dull team.
Whilst everybody claims that their favourite sport is, a priori, infinitely better than your favourite sport really it is more a matter of familiarity than anything else. Rugby can be a fantastic game when all the stars are in alignment, but on a bad day with the weather alternating between heavy fog and pouring rain and with two teams devoid of imagination and flair and struggling in the mud, it looks like a 30 heifer cattle muster in the high country.
After years of trying I still don’t get Australian Rules. The only thing that amazed me was that it was a game where in front of 100,000 people a player would sneak up behind an opposing number in some random part of the field and knock him out and get away with it in front of three referees. More amazingly, if he was later ‘charged’ he could arrive at the Tribunal with a team of Queens Council, social workers and member of the relevant clergy and be let off on a technicality, which seemed more in line with Industrial Relations Law rather than anything else. If I was to make one suggestion to improve the game it would be that referees should be able to deploy red and yellow cards to get offenders off the paddock straight away as they do in most other contact sports.
Overall the prime advantage of rugby is that the crowds are generally well-behaved and appreciate the game and don’t take to the opposing team’s supporters with ground furniture and invective. Good manners and appreciation of the finer points prevail. Unlike soccer where, particularly in England, the sport is an excuse for a tribal riot , based on those who feel socially dispossessed sinking a skinful and the boot . A brainless riot that can be transported internationally to the countries of Europe for the price of a train ticket. Regrettably the same recessive mentality has been transported to Australia with only partially successful efforts to eradicate it. Soccer can be a skilful game, but really it would be far more interesting if they scored more points and concentrated more on playing the game rather than winning Oscars for feigned injuries.
Interestingly most of the most tribal sports are those played in the winter. I know attempts have been made to manufacture cricket into an activity surrounded by social frenzy, but only at the expense of making the game increasingly shorter and dumber. A five day test isn’t going to create sufficiently massive excitement to drive the fans to frenzy with faint calls of “Well done chaps”, and “Pass the cucumber sandwiches Doris”, as the best one can do to overcome the tedium.
Cricket commentary, especially the old time mellifluous intonation and discursive rambling of the ABC cricket experts made the perfect background for any other activity that required a background noise with no discernible structure. Publicly provided background for transcendental meditation. In the days many years ago when I painted it was the perfect backdrop - a gentle susurration of summer lawns with the occasional sound of leather on willow.
With the game being commercialised into One Day and Twenty Over slots it has become increasingly stupid, becoming as upsetting as an elderly lady wearing showgirl make-up, suspenders and high heels singing rap songs. What is strange, compared to contact sports where two or more large males may collide at warp speed velocity without apparent effect, is that cricketers seems to fall apart after running twenty metres and throwing a ball. Mind you, having faced one genuine fast bowler in my life in an alleged fun game between two army units, I would rather have hand grenades thrown at me. At least I would have seen them coming.
With money from the entertainment giants has come the increasing professionalism of sport with unbelievable salaries earned by top players. If we paid them less would we have to watch fewer advertisements and be able to once again see the side lines? Whilst there was a certain charm in most of the New Zealand Soccer team having to get time off from work to play in the World Cup and to see them do surprisingly well, it did seem a bit like lambs to the slaughter .
But the professionalism of contact sports seems also to have led to some bizarre selective breeding program where giants now roam the earth. People who look tiny amongst their team mates actually are over six feet tall and the normal looking ones are inches taller. And the tall timber is close to seven feet tall. And fast, fit and mobile.
Now this means that with so many big men on the ground there isn’t enough room to run around everyone any longer. If one team just lined up across the ground it would create an almost impossible barrier for the other team.
The only answer is to make the grounds wider. Another ten metres should do it.
The thought is enough to make a man get back on his bike.