A sporting chance

The pull of the pitch is a saving grace for children of the digital generation

My sons, like all teenagers I imagine, are subjected to round-the-clock, highly sophisticated marketing. How they dress, what they should be listening to, what they should be watching, what they should be doing and even what they should smell like – all are prescribed for them by advertising agencies and brand executives.

Often we have to tell them to put their awful glowing gadgets away; sometimes it feels as if we are pulling them away from the lights of some necromancer’s fire. Yet in this case, the gold by which they are enchanted is a kind of super intense digitalised socialisation. They are caught up by a spell that is highly individualised and then kept there by being fed titbits of targeted pap. Never enough for a full meal – just enough to keep them hungry.

We accept with heavy sighs that gaming, social media and the like are simply symptoms of their era. Those of us lucky to have grown up before the technological revolution made our existence one of 24/7 stimulation, realise that we are probably just out of date.

But I still have grave misgivings about the way our offspring run their lives, which is why I am endlessly glad that they are also immersed in the great world of rugby. I’m not talking about the professional glitz and glamour of the Six Nations which is currently happening at Murrayfield and elsewhere, but the more earthy brand that brings enrichment of character and which takes place at schools and clubs the length and breadth of the country.

Rugby is the antidote to all of this computerised foppery. It is one of the few activities that actually creates layers of character in our children as opposed to wearing away at them. The game does something beautiful and increas- ingly rare in this age we live in. Firstly it breaks the link between our kids and the nearest electrical outlet. This may sound like nothing to us oldies but for a teenager to actually not have a mobile phone with them is rare.

Next, the game is rough, painful, tiring and involves mud and exposure to the elements. Our two boys go out onto a field of grass and mud and play a game in which they will feel pain of some form. They will suffer bruises, bumps, scratches and may even break bones. They will certainly see their own blood on their hands and the blood and pain of others on that field.

Now forgive me for sounding like a Kiplingesque gentleman of the old school, but there’s no doubt about it. Like never before, this rugged rough game is exactly what our boys need. It is the perfect detox for the internalisation that all their gadgets encourage, the inward focus and navel gazing.

Rugby demands that our boys forget themselves and play with all of their heart and courage for the team. For others. To become part of something bigger than themselves. They arrive for practice on these dark winter nights illuminated by their little screens and digital chatter right up to the point when they enter the changing room and, quite literally, strip away all of the superficialities of this digital age. The gadgets are stuffed in a pocket or shoe and dumped in a locker. They run out onto the pitch in twos and threes and join up with the other boys. The team takes shape. The practice begins. It’s hard. It hurts. But they discover pride through teamwork because rugby is the ultimate sport of teamwork; it’s one where the team is only as good as its weakest player, where boys learn that they genuinely win as a team and lose as a team.

And when they get home and show us their bruises and scratches and walk us through in detail this try or that tackle, they don’t realise how grateful we are that despite all the dross and fairground distractions of this digital age they managed to find something older, ancient even, that made them forget themselves just for a short while.

Here’s hoping the soft-handed health and safety wallahs never get their hands on rugby. It’s the knocks and bruises and sheer physical hardship of the game that make it what it is. For nothing that is truly real comes without a little pain, discomfort or hardship. Think about everything that you’ve done in life that has changed your life and you’ll find that it was probably accompanied by some kind of fear. Rugby reminds our boys that the online world is not the real world – no matter how important it thinks it is.

WORDS GUY GRIEVE ‘ Here’s hoping the soft-handed health and safety wallahs never get their hands on rugby’