The Black Ferns celebrate a try against the Wallaroos. Photo / Photosport
The Black Ferns celebrate a try against the Wallaroos. Photo / Photosport
OPINION
In their 50-point drubbing of Australia during the week the Black Ferns showed how their revival is continuing at pace, but also demonstrated what a great sport rugby, when played with daring and freedom, is to watch.
Too often in Super Rugby Pacific games, we’ve had to suffer thetedium of aerial ping pong as the ball was kicked aimlessly downfield, then kicked back, and kicked back again, world without end.
The fact that almost every time Ferns fullback Renee Holmes got the ball inside her 22, her first instinct was to look for a way to counter-attack, was an unalloyed joy.
The test also provided a perfect illustration of why lowering the legal tackle height can’t come too soon to every level of the game.
Because professional male players have developed a degree of the offloading skills Sonny Bill Williams brought with him from league, coaches have looked for dominant, upright tackling to prevent the ball being slipped away by the carrier.
The danger, as we see in the ban now being served by Anton Lienert-Brown, is that a collision with the head is always one tiny miscalculation away.
When the Ferns played in Brisbane, they gave a textbook exhibition of fierce but low tackling.
If the rules are changed so all players, women and men, had to tackle below the chest line, what’s the worst that could happen?
There would probably be more offloads, which would mean more running with the ball in hand. And isn’t running with the ball what made rugby unique from the time it began?
Add in Wayne Smith’s idea that if a penalty is kicked out inside the 22 by the attacking side, they don’t get the throw to the resulting lineout, which would drastically cut rolling mauls, and the chances of more games being as dynamic as every match the Black Ferns play would surely skyrocket.
As the world turns
The All Blacks haka. Photo / Photosport
A new world top-12 nations competition starting in 2026, which will basically be an elite version of the World Cup, is a reminder of how powerful a driver money is for rugby.
New Zealand’s not the only place struggling to find enough finance. In England, clubs with long and proud traditions are declaring bankruptcy.
In February, there was a public discussion of the Welsh test team going on strike. The Welsh Rugby Union was dragging its feet over signing players’ contracts, because the game in Wales is short of cash.
Almost unnoticed here was a startlingly honest interview last week by Wales coach Warren Gatland, who said: “I didn’t realise a lot of things that were going on, and the issues that were behind the players and the squad. At the time, if I had known, I would have made a different decision, and probably gone somewhere else.”
A slice of the pie from a world international tournament would have a touch of Lotto about it for Wales, and, south of the equator, for Australia and New Zealand too.
To be blunt, if the choice is between adding a competition to the world calendar, or seeking backing from the friendly folk in Saudi Arabia, then bring on the extra games.
Like most rugby tragics, I’d be tuning in, or hopefully heading to the ground, to see test matches with England, Ireland, or France.
The devil will be in the details. Will the venues for All Blacks tests with the big guns from Europe be shared equally between north and south? Or will the All Blacks be a visiting attraction in this world show, with most Kiwis only seeing them playing on screen?
And given that the “Nations Championship” (or whatever it ends up being called) will offer a better level of competition than a Rugby World Cup, how much gloss would be taken off the 2027 Cup in Australia?
Those of a nervous disposition, especially about a concept as dramatic as a new world tournament, may find comfort in the fact that in 1987 some British administrators firmly believed a World Cup would ruin rugby forever.
In fact, the Cup has produced some of the great moments in the game.
