England hooker Steve Thompson (centre) is among the players involved in the lawsuit. Photo / Getty Images
OPINION
Phil Gifford presents four talking points from the world of rugby.
The most important court case of the 21st century involving rugby begins in London on December 1.
What’s decided could see rugby authorities having to pay massive monetary settlements, and the reputation of the sport severely damaged.
England’sSunday Times reports that almost 300 former players, including test players from England and Wales, will apply at the High Court in London for a group litigation order, to sue World Rugby, England’s Rugby Union, and the Welsh Rugby Union.
The players claim rugby caused life-changing brain injuries.
Head injuries have, for decades, been treated lightly by rugby officials. In the amateur days I watched All Black Chris Laidlaw, playing for New Zealand Universities, stagger back on to Eden Park in a 1965 game against South Africa, after being knocked out. At the time it was considered just a stroke of dark humour when he then successfully kicked a dropped goal and collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
There’s much greater awareness of concussion now, but the professional era has its own problems.
Numerous studies have shown that in boxing, it isn’t just being knocked out in a fight that’s dangerous. Too many hours sparring is also damaging.
The most disconcerting quote in the Times story came from a former England player, who said in court papers: “When the game went professional, the coaches and other staff at the time had to justify their/our time during the day, so we just bashed the daylights out of each other to cover the time.”
There’s infinitely more care and attention given to head knocks now. But if World Rugby, which sadly can usually be relied on to screw things up, doesn’t make a coherent, well-researched, defence in the High Court case rugby’s image could be deeply wounded.
Talking about screw-ups
New Zealand led the world in being the first country to insist that players wear mouthguards.
There’s massive promise in the development of microchipped mouthguards that can record the impact body contact has on a player in training and in games.
New Zealand introduced the original, non-chipped, mouthguards gradually, with explanations for players about why they were such a good idea, protecting teeth and lessening the chances of a fractured jaw.
The problem is that the geniuses at World Rugby just laid down the law about using microchipped mouthguards. No consultation, no persuasion. Instead they demanded that, from January 1, professional players have to wear them.
There are now moves to soften that approach. But the tragedy is that a potentially enlightened move to make rugby safer will not arrive with the sort of goodwill every innovation in sport needs.
Whether he jumps, or is pushed out, it’s clearly untenable for Hamish McLennan to continue as chairman of Rugby Australia.
When Queensland and Western Australian unions have signed a letter that says “we no longer have trust or faith in his leadership, or the direction in which he is taking rugby in Australia”, there’s no wriggle room for a happy ending.
As I’ve noted before, vicious boardroom infighting across the ditch isn’t something Kiwis can derive any joy from.
The sooner Rugby Australia moves on, and gets stable management, the sooner the playing issues that are plaguing Super Rugby Pacific can be addressed.
In simple terms, there isn’t the talent across the Tasman to sustain five Super teams.
It’ll take leaders with vision, and huge relationship skills, to persuade at least one of the current teams to step down.
The only thing we know for certain is that his public persona indicates McLennan is not the man to lead a campaign that requires great personal charm.
A superstar rising higher
A political arm wrestle now sees France’s best and most feted player, Antoine Dupont, poised to become the best-known rugby star in the world game.
His switch to sevens for next year’s Paris Olympics has, an insightful column by Irishman Gerry Thornley reveals, a fascinating backstory.
It begins with the French Federation of Rugby (FFR) president, Bernard Laporte, resigning his post at the start of this year, after being found guilty of corruption charges over the sponsorship of the French team’s jerseys.
The French Minister of Sport, Amelie Oudea-Castera, who had a fractured relationship with Laporte, is now working happily with the FFR, who are at ease with Dupont missing next year’s Six Nations to compete at the Olympics.
Dupont, it seems certain, will now be a poster boy for the Olympics. Already sponsored by everyone from Adidas to Peugeot to the French state-owned railway company SNCF, his participation in the Games may, Thornley writes, “see him become (not just a French player) but a global brand”.