THE BIG BAN THEORY
Elton Jantjies’ four-year suspension can be major boost in war on doping
WE all knew it was going on but nothing was done to stop it. Club rugby in the 1990s was the only show in town, either side of the Five Nations, and stakes were high. A couple of good games for the club and lads could be in touching distance of a national team constantly looking for options in a grim decade.
There was also the money incentive — under-the-table cash in the early 1990s and then over the counter when the game officially went pro in 1995 and everyone got their wallets out.
The better you played, the more you made (ideally via a lucrative move to England where clubs had lost the run of themselves completely) and that is where steroids or ‘juicing’ came in.
There were signs of steroid use throughout all divisions of the All-Ireland League through the 1990s, and even down to the provincial junior and Under 20 leagues.
For the record, although once accused of taking ‘performance-reducing drugs’, it is possible to state categorically here that our own journeyman club rugby career that decade was never garnished by any juicing. The furthest step taken was copious cups of prematch coffee and a can of Red Bull at half time (hidden in a baby’s sippy cup because of uncertainty as to its legality) due to tiredness after late night newspaper shifts on Friday nights.
But, had juicing been the path of choice, steroids were readily available. You would hear talk of individuals who players were able to approach to get ‘sorted’ and it is easy to recall being asked by bald bodybuilder types at the gym whether we were interested in any ‘product’.
The giveaway signs of steroid use in the AIL were accelerated hair loss, exaggerated muscle growth either side of the neck, boils sprouting up on the upper back and shoulders and irrational acts of unwarranted aggression or ‘roid rage’. Ireland’s rugby dressing rooms and clubhouses were awash with rumours and speculation and several names kept cropping up – some of them very high profile at the time. Top of the ‘most likely’ list were the lads who had an extended period off the pitch due to injury and came back with completely different body shapes.
You would hear stories about overseas players in the AIL who admitted to juicing when tongues were loosened by post-match gargle, about car glove boxes accidentally opening to reveal syringes and other steroid paraphernalia and about players who suffered sudden medical emergencies which had symptoms consistent with steroid-related issues.
But it was all hush-hush, everything was on the QT and down low and it never went anywhere.
Testing at the time was intermittent, to the point of being non-existent, and in 10 years of exposure to the All-Ireland League, between divisions one and two, it is possible to recall only one post-match request for a urine sample. Although there were plenty of reasons to be suspicious, there seemed to be no sense of urgency, no organised investigation or clampdown, no high-profile example made and so the false narrative of Irish rugby being ‘clean’ was allowed to cement itself in the collective psyche.
We knew thatwas a load of horse.
ONE STEP AHEAD?
A FEW years ago, renowned campaigning journalist Paul Kimmage trained his sights on doping in rugby with the input of former France prop Laurent Benezech.
A lot of what they said made complete sense as rugby – driven by the need for bulk, raw power and rapid recovery – is tailor-made for steroid abuse.
The problem was, while the case made was compelling, there was a lack of concrete, high-profile evidence to prompt a snowball effect towards genuine change.
There was some heat put on South Africa, where there were regular cases of failed tests in underage rugby as well as several senior players being caught out.
The most notable was second row Gerbrandt Grobler, who was banned for two years after testing positive for the anabolic steroid dostranolone but was then allowed to sign for Munster – a decision which did not reflect well on Irish rugby’s attitude towards doping in the sport.
So, while doping did get some exposure in this country, it did not kick on in any meaningful way and other topics like the legal use of painkillers and, in particular, the disturbing cases of concussionrelated brain damage, dominated instead. The relative lack of guilty cases allowed rugby authorities to remain steadfast in their belief that their anti-doping procedures and policies were holding up.
However, the fear constantly festered that, as has happened in other sports, the cheats were always a step ahead of the testers and that rugby could end up like the Olympics where you simply cannot trust what you are watching.
SIGNIFICANT NEWS
IN THOSE circumstances, disincentive is key.
The risk of exposure has to be too great for players to even contemplate cheating – they have to know that to be caught doping is to be potentially put out of the game.
In this regard, last Thursday’s news about the four-year ban handed down to Springbok Elton Jantjies for taking the banned drug Clenbuterol (a fat-burning favourite of bodybuilders) was hugely significant.
Although, you may well have missed it. There were a few paragraphs in some of the Friday newspapers, on the back of the few lines that had gone out on the wires the day before (some papers, including those with a ‘rugby reputation’ had nothing at all). Meanwhile the Jantjies ban did not feature prominently during rugby discussions on TV, radio or podcasts where the Six Nations squad selections and European Cup machinations held sway.
But this is a big story for several reasons. Jantjies was not some nomark club player or underage wannabe, this was an established, high profile international who amassed
The fear festered that cheats were one step ahead of the testers
42 caps between 2012 and 2021 and a name known around the rugby globe (he played four times against Ireland between 2016-17 and featured against the Lions in 2021).
Another Springbok. Aphiwe Dyantyi, received a similar ban a few years ago, but he was a young, relatively unknown winger. Jantjies is box office. Furthermore, the length of the ban was notable.
In a profession where players do well to go beyond 10 years, a fouryear suspension is potentially a career-ender. Jantjies is 33 and his rugby playing days are almost certainly over but, even if he was in his early or mid 20s, four years out is hard to come back from.
It is also hugely encouraging to see South Africa dole out this punishment because they are a rugby nation with a reputation for looseness in this area, to put it mildly.
PAUSE FOR THOUGHT
SO, IS there a doping culture in rugby? We do not have enough evidence to say that categorically but doping does exist, just as it did in the past and will into the future, as long as there is sufficient incentive to bend the rules.
But now, at last, there is genuine reason to believe that the Jantjies ban — and length of it — may give cheaters and potential cheaters some pause for thought.
That can only be a good thing.