When rugby went pro.
A quarter of a century ago Rugby Union took a giant leap into the future. It went professional. And the catalyst that pushed it into a new era was the 1995 Rugby World Cup in South Africa. By
It’s 25 years since Joost felled Jonah, since Joel dropped a goal and a mysterious woman named Susie allegedly crippled the All Blacks. It’s a quarter of a century since Nelson passed a gold trophy to Francois to complete one of sport’s most iconic pictures, and it’s 2½ decades on from the most seismic revolution in the sport.
Rugby World Cup (RWC) 1995 will forever stand out as the greatest version of the event because it had every ingredient necessary to be exceptional.
For a start, the final was played in front of an iconic political figure leading his country into democracy after being released from 27 years in jail. There was nail–biting drama and thrilling action on the field, and a generation of old South Africans – mostly accepting the new South Africa — cheering from the stands. The prototype of the modern rugby player, Jonah Lomu, showed us what future athletes would look like, and the sport was dragging itself out of the dark ages and into the light.
For four glorious winter weeks in 1995, much of the world had its eyes on South Africa. The third staging of the RWC saw the mightiest nations in the sport – New Zealand and South Africa – clash in the final on a crisp, sunny afternoon on 24 June 1995.
The day culminated in a sight nobody ever thought they’d see – a clearly delighted Nelson Mandela dressed in one of Springbok captain Francois Pienaar’s jerseys, embracing the players. It was not only a massive gesture of reconciliation and healing; that day also marked the end of rugby’s obsession with amateur status and dragged it kicking and screaming into the professional era.
The line in the sand
The story of the tournament and of Pienaar’s warriors was a great rugby narrative but behind the scenes the sport itself was on the brink of a revolution. The lasting impact of RWC 1995 was playing out in boardrooms, hotels and restaurants as power brokers negotiated rugby’s almost overnight conversion from niche amateur sport to global player.
This week World Rugby released “Global Reach in Rugby”, a report compiled by Nielsen that shows the sport has grown to reach 877 million people by the end of last year. That is up 11% on the previous year.
Last year’s World Cup in Japan, which the Springboks also won, was the most watched ever. More than 857 million people tuned in on television, a 26% increase on the 2015 edition in England. Audiences have shown the most growth in Asia, and 25% of all players globally are now women. In 1995, that percentage was close to zero.
Earlier this year World Rugby released another report that showed RWC 2019 was worth £4.3-billion to Japan’s economy; a far cry from those humble pre-professional days of 1995 and the two previous tournaments in 1991 and 1987. But 1995 represented a shift in rugby’s outlook, driven by the Southern Hemisphere.
After an era of so-called “shamateurism”, where players were paid meagre money under the table, or offered cushy jobs to play rugby for certain teams, 1995 was the line in the sand. Players wanted to be properly paid and a new breed of more dynamic rugby administrators, particularly in South Africa, New Zealand and Australia, wanted to monetise the sport.
In the lead-up to the 1995 tournament, Sanzar was formed as representatives from the three Southern Hemisphere powerhouses started negotiations with potential investors in Sydney. Louis Luyt, who was president of the South African Rugby Football Union (Sarfu) at the time, barged his way into negotiations with New Zealand and
Australia, who were already in discussions for a Super Eight tournament that excluded South Africa.
By the time Luyt left Sydney to return to Cape Town for the opening of RWC 1995, South Africa had secured its seat at the table alongside its two old rivals.
Edward Griffiths, who was CEO of Sarfu at the time, coined the phrase “One Team, One Country” at RWC 1995, which resonated with the nation. It was a marketing and public relations triumph. But it was in his executive role that Griffiths played a part in the changing the face of the sport in those heady winter weeks.
Murdoch versus Packer for rugby’s soul
Behind the scenes two of Australia’s richest men – media tycoons Kerry Packer and Rupert Murdoch – were vying to buy into rugby union and make it fully professional.
“There was a lot happening at the time,” Griffiths recently told DM168 from his base in the UK. “There were two parallel situations. There was a lawyer and former player named Ross Turnbull, who was talking to all the players and who had a proposal from a company called the World Rugby Corporation (WRC). It was potentially backed by Packer, but only if Turnbull could deliver all the top players.
“So, you had Packer dealing with the players via Turnbull, and Murdoch talking to the unions and the administrators on the other side. I became aware of what was happening at the opening dinner of RWC 1995 when one of the English players told me about the WRC thing, which I had heard about. I knew it was coming to a head.
“A few weeks later, there was a lot of controversy about the Springboks being late for the dinner at
Gallagher Estate in Midrand after the final. One of the reasons they were late was because I insisted on a meeting with them back at the Sandton Sun to discuss the situation with the game about to go professional.
“I knew I would not have them all together again as a group for some time, so I had to speak to them that night. I told them that we knew there were lots of contracts flying around, referring to the WRC contracts. I urged them not to sign and not to commit to anything because Sarfu was aware of the landscape and we would take care of them. My message was: ‘Don’t commit to anything without talking to Sarfu.’
“We met again about a week later at Sun City when the players were all there with their wives. There was a final meeting about six weeks later when Luyt called a gathering at his Saxonwold house to finalise the move to go with Murdoch. Luyt said to the players, ‘Whatever you have been offered in the WRC contracts, we will match it.’
“The Springboks all signed Murdoch contracts, and when that happened the entire WRC deal fell flat. Turnbull didn’t succeed in securing the signatures of the world champion Springboks. That’s why, to this day, there is some residual bitterness among many non-South African players of that generation. Once the Springboks had signed with Murdoch’s Newscorp, the rest of the world’s players’ negotiating positions with WRC and Packer collapsed.”
Brokering the most lucrative TV sports deal outside the US
It’s hard to believe now, but Murdoch’s initial offering of $555-million for the rights to Sanzar’s newly established Super 12 and Tri-Nations tournaments was the highest outside the US. It was even more than the contract England football’s Premier League had signed with Sky three years earlier.
Luyt knew the value South Africa held
then, and in many ways South Africa’s strengths in 1995 – good players, good time zone and a large rugby audience – still hold true today.
New Zealand and Australia wanted to go it alone, but realised they needed South Africa to make the new dispensation viable and a company called CSI helped broker the deal with Newscorp.
“The bottom line was that they [New Zealand and Australia] needed South Africa to become part of a television rugby package that could be sold … for big bucks,” Luyt wrote in his 2003 autobiography, Walking
Proud.
“Even though Ken Cowley, the MD of Rupert Murdoch’s News Corporation in Australia, had virtually shut the door on them after their initial meeting, they were confident that there would be interest on his part once he found out that South Africa had joined.
“We felt $550-million over 10 years might be reasonable but decided to add another $100-million to give us some room for negotiation.”
When Luyt and his associates met Murdoch’s representative Sam Chisholm in London and presented the price tag of $650-million, the latter feigned a heart attack and said he wouldn’t meet that price. Luyt walked away but the bait had been floated. Within days there was word that Newscorp wanted to do business and Luyt flew to London a week before the World Cup final to conclude the deal that would take rugby union into the professional era.
Michael Watt, who owned CSI and was an integral part of bringing the deal to the table, told the Guardian that the price tag was arbitrary. “The only science in such a deal is politicising and bullshit,” Watt said.
Luyt could do that with the best of them. Once the deal was signed, he rushed back to South Africa, called a media conference two days before the RWC 1995 final and announced that rugby, in the Southern Hemisphere at least, was going professional. With the Springboks and the All Blacks about to contest the Ellis Park final, the timing could not have been better.
It was a shock to the staid Northern Hemisphere rugby establishment, which was blindsided by the speed at which Sanzar concluded the deal. “Mindful of the sensitivities at the International Rugby Board (IRB) and the resentment of those in the Northern Hemisphere, which had been left out [of negotiations], we tried to deny that this actually meant a unilateral step on our part to end amateurism in rugby,” Luyt wrote. “I am afraid however, that we were somewhat disingenuous in this respect.”
The Sanzaar alliance (which has since added Argentina) has now reached a crossroads. After 25 years, Super Rugby, which has undergone various iterations since 1996, is dead. South Africa has left the alliance at provincial level and is moving more north.
That decision was a result of New Zealand unilaterally drawing up a new domestic competition structure in September this year. The partners will stay tethered at Test level through the Rugby Championship, but the alliance has fundamentally changed since those heady days of early professionalism. The sense of adventure is gone and the journey into the unknown as a pioneering collective has splintered. Professional rugby is firmly entrenched.
RWC 1995 still shines in the memory – a symbolism of success and hope for South Africa, it also heralded a new dawn for a sport that has grown beyond recognition. It was the month of Madiba and Pienaar, but it was also the first step into the future, in more ways than one.
After an era of so-called “shamateurism”, where players were paid meagre money under the table, 1995 was the line in the sand
The Springboks all signed Murdoch contracts, and when that happened the entire WRC deal fell flat. That’s why, to this day, there is some residual bitterness