Exile Moloney deserves more for what she did

It’s been three years since her last cap, but Exeter forward should receive at least a thank you for taking her stance

Cliodhna Moloney has done the state of Irish rugby some service in the past seven days. And she didn’t even have to carry a yard, push a pass or make a tackle. Instead, she told the truth.

She has confessed to the world what she has had to admit so reluctantly to herself.

She has been trying desperately not to be held hostage bythe ever-changing moods of wondering every time an international squad is announced whether her name is considered for inclusion, when it never has been.

Or the occasional, vacuous soundbites by successive coaches, assistant coaches and players, prompted only by questioning under duress, never submitted willingly, who insist her name is considered for inclusion. When it never has been.

The owner of 30 international caps, the last three years ago, conceding that there may never be number 31.

For the sake of sanity, she told Orla Bannon of the BBC: “I have probably let go of the focus of worrying will I get back in with Ireland. You can’t be dragging that around for two or three years.”

Moloney’s sporting crime was to be at the forefront of the wholly justified disenchantment experienced byformer and current players after the calamitous failure of the international 15-a-side squad to qualify for the last World Cup in late 2021.

Conducted

Her now in famous social media response – “slurry spreading” – to a self-serving interview conducted by their coach, Anthony Eddy, captured all the headlines. It also signed her sporting death warrant.

The slurry really hit the fan when a deputation of 42 players dispatched a letter to Government detailing their concerns.

“Substandard commitment ... Inequitable and untrustworthy leadership ... Lack of transparency in governance ... Overall total lack of ambition.”

Government ministers would lend an ear to the players when their own union not only ignored them, but haughtily disputed their meaningful views.

For a sport that prided itself – from time to time superciliously – on conducting every aspect of its business to a global standard, the reputational damage was obvious.

Drowning in embarrassment, Eddy disappeared in the eddy of corporate commotion that immediately ensued once the IRFU were humiliatingly upbraided by the Government.

His was an utterly convenient scalp, but others would follow.

Although nobody had previously sought to contact Moloney regarding the debilitating decline of the sport to which shewas devoted for minimum reward, hernumberpinged urgently now!

Indeed, the chirruping response to her tweeting emanated right from the top – performance director David Nucifora, no less.

The IRFU brusquely briefed that conversations such as these happen all the time; pointedly, they never denied that this one did take place.

Whateverwas said remained andwill probably stay private.

What happened nextwas rathermore revealing. Or rather, what did not happen next. Moloney failed to make the cut when the 2022 Six Nations squad was announced.

She has been marked absent since. Shehasbeenthemostobviousvictim of this distasteful period in Irish rugby history but not the only one.

Successivecaptainswalkedawayfrom the game in the prime of their sporting lives; Ciara Griffin’s public tears were an obvious manifestation of the individual pressures placed upon those who had admirablymaintained their dignity when so many others had not.

Nichola Fryday also decided to retire last year when it was becoming clear that the sporting consequences of perennial disregard were becoming much too burdensome.

It seems grimly ironic that both Fryday and Moloney continue to ply their trade in England with Exeter Chiefs, one of the sport’s most globally admired outfits.

The vast thousands of bandwagon boozers and businessmen buddieswho celebrated the recent men’s success may not be aware of these facts, but they should be.

Manyof the decisions – and so many of the non-decisions – about women’s rugbyhere have been in the gift of musty men in misty boardrooms.

WhenIrelandsmashedthat crass ceiling with their success of a decade ago, it almost created a problem for the IRFU rather than an opportunity.

Nucifora arrived in the middle of the glorious love affair and was there when Ireland defeated New Zealand at the World Cup.

Legacy

The Olympics would become his baby. Hewill perceive his legacy to be Paris in the summer, not Le Mans in the spring.

True, there is finally female input, but even the women’s rugby community has yet to be fully convinced; for now, overdue gender balance remains but a cosmetic change.

Old habits cling. This writer attended a club game recently at which a group of young girls were collecting for tour matches overseas. Weaskedthemwhere the boys were.

They had their trip fully paid for, it seemed, andsothepoorgirlswereforced to shake buckets and knock on doors. That they did so with smiles and laughter seemed apposite.

Ireland’s women have been forced to grin and bear it for too long.

Last season, when the tide seemed to have turned and fresh new management arrived, it proved a false dawn.

Greg McWilliams is a good coach – an assistant to Philip Doyle in the glorious years – but his reign ended in winless ignominy last spring.

Listening to the constant stream of evidence from the current players since the appointment of yet another head coach, it would appear that the Irish squad were basically at a standstill for two seasons.

Everypositive element of the current season is not so subtly deployed byplayers as a counter-argument to whatwent before.

That none of them felt safe or secure enough to express a single aspect of these fault lines while McWilliams is in charge speaks to the lingering trauma the sport has suffered.

Then again, they appreciate that the cost of speaking one’s mind can be fatal to your sporting life.

Moloneyis living proof of that fact. At 30, she is at the peak of her formidable powers. Incoming coach Scott Bemand has, like so many before him, blandly brayed that the door remains open.

The presence in France last weekend of the new IRFU performance director David Humphreys might not have been noteworthy had it not been for the manner of his empathetic engagement with the squad.

The thaw in relations may be more real than imagined.

Moloneyhas made peacewith herlife nowand it would be unfair for anyone to immediately pressure her into a U-turn.

What should happen is something slightly simpler, but perhaps more profound.

We note that Nuciforawas feted at the Australian Embassy last week where, quite rightly, heearned praise for his role in rehabilitating a defunct sevens programme to a position where both men and women qualified for Paris.

“Change cannot be madewithout ruffling feathers,” gushed ambassadorGary Gray ironically.

“It would be a surprise if anyone in a role like David’s didn’t upset the apple cart from time to time and he arrived with a reputation for being ready for a fight, but even his adversaries and critics would admit that he leaves Irish rugby in a far healthier place than it was in when he arrived.”

Nucifora does not have to apologise for anything – indeed, he never has – but even if sorry is the hardest word, we would recommend one parting gesture.

Presuming he or the IRFU still have Moloney’s number, he should call her and, even if so many of us would like him to say sorry, perhaps he could just say thank you.

Thankyouforbeingpartofthejourney. Thank you for letting go. Thank you for caring about your team more than ever.

Even if she never wears another Ireland jersey, another phone call should be the least she deserves.

‘Thereisfemale input, buteventhe women’srugby communityhasyet tobefullyconvinced’