Paul Lewis at the Rugby World Cup: Cheers to England's finest

Martin Johnson. Photo / Natalie Slade

They died nine years ago last Wednesday. Eight among the 202 who died from bomb blasts in Bali in 2002 were from the Singapore Cricket Club, for whose rugby section I played over 13 years. Three came from the team for whom I was a player-coach.

The ninth anniversary of their deaths came at almost the exact moment the England rugby team were arriving home in disgrace from the Rugby World Cup.

If you're struggling to make the connection between those two events, it's all about the social life that revolves around rugby. At grassroots level, like the 17 men from the SCC who were at the annual Bali 10s tournament, carousing and drinking is a normal part of the aftermath. That's why they died. The Al Qaeda-linked terrorists who laid the bombs in a car outside and one behind the bar itself knew the rugby players would be enjoying themselves at Paddy's Bar.

It's different at the top level, of course. The form teams of the World Cup - Wales, New Zealand, France and Australia - have a strong internal culture which frowns on form- and injury-retarding excesses. Wales have been particularly disciplined since coach Warren Gatland took firm hold.

The All Blacks have strong team protocols and it was fascinating to see skipper Richie McCaw - the team culture's biggest proponent - ride over coach Graham Henry at the press conference following last week's win over the Pumas.

We are moving on, was Henry's bluff comment when asked about Cory Jane and his boozy night with Israel Dagg. It wasn't until McCaw stepped in, effectively saying that he did not understand why anyone would not want to do as much as he could to put his team in a good position that Henry was moved to say how well Jane had played.

England got it wrong, of course. All the drinking, carousing, women, ball tampering and mouthguard hoo-ha gave them the look of arrogance; a body of men with a sense of entitlement; who could not understand how off-field culture translated into a lack of on-field competence.

But - and please, this is no defence of grown men misbehaving - those who have never been close to an international rugby team do not see much of the curious artificiality. Young men are plunged into a cauldron of pressure. Little wonder that binge drinking makes an appearance. Peer pressure - beer pressure? - is still a powerful thing for some, long after schooldays are finished.

Having a beer is part and parcel of the rugby experience, except when on a mission for the World Cup and similar glittering prizes. The social side of sport is a powerful force. It is genuinely enjoyable to relax in the company of those with whom you have 'been to war'.

England coach Martin Johnson, captain Lewis Moody (he of mouthguard fame) and the team's senior players can all take the blame for allowing the social side to intrude too far into the professional.

Without the social side, however, I would never have got to know Peter Record, Tim Arnold and Charlie van Rennen, team-mates who died in Bali; two Poms and an Aussie. Record was a sometime captain of our youthful Singaporean team. British and opinionated, he had a bray of a laugh and an offbeat sense of humour. He was impossible to dislike even with a tendency to overdo it.

Arnold was the opposite: the modest team man who never hesitated to put hand in pocket for the younger guys and never sought thanks. Van Rennen was a small Australian flanker - socks around the ankles, arse hanging out, who played with his blood near boiling point.

I played for three years in England and can attest there is little wrong with the people and grassroots of the game there.

The point of all this is that rugby's heart and soul resides in such down-home quarters. At international level, which is what most of us see, the social life is submerged. At other levels, it is the lifeblood of the sport. The closest most rugby folk can come to expressing this is the overused word 'camaraderie', which is also that used by World War II veterans to explain the bond they feel with men with whom they would never normally have been friends, had they not been 'in the trenches' together.

The sport and its social life are a great leveller - socially, racially, culturally and mentally. There were English (and French and South Africans and Australians) in the Bucks and Wanderers teams at Bali - bitter rivals of the SCC but who did more than go the extra yard after the bombs exploded.

They turned over charred bodies in a makeshift morgue to see if they could identify anyone and advise SCC loved ones waiting for word. The stuff of nightmares but also a grand example of what really underscores camaraderie.

That was found too in the go-without-sleep efforts of Kiwi Graeme Burnett, then leader of the rugby section, who worked tirelessly to get the survivors and bodies back home and to co-ordinate families flying into Singapore from all round the world. I can remember a player so traumatised that he could not even speak to his wife. His was the guilt of the survivor.

At 8am that Sunday morning, the SCC rugby bar had over 100 men crowded into it, all reeling from the shock. Chinese, English, Malays, Australians, Indians, Irish, French, Dutch, Scots and Welsh ... it was essentially a wake. All were drinking. Some were in tears. Most were telling stories about the dead. Some stood mute, holding a thousand yard stare. It was a show of solidarity in a sport that can cross all borders; inherent in the clink of glasses that saluted absent friends.

So let's not be too hard on England. I still remember English rugby players as those sifting through charred corpses in Kuta; one of which could have been mine if work pressures hadn't stopped me taking that trip. Yes, the England top end got it badly wrong - but they got what they deserved and they'll just pay with the death of a few careers.

The sport's social side will continue and will be enjoyed by the likes of the eight who died nine years ago: Charlie Van Rennen, Tim Arnold, Peter Record, Dave Kent, Neil Bowler, Chris Bradford, Chris Redman and Chris Kays. I'll remember them and those who tried to help a great deal longer than the England rugby team 2011. Which is how it should be.