Wales wronged by union’s ‘civil war’
‘TWorld rugby is without authority, remaining so toothless it should be the governing body of gurning
here is no consolation in pride,” said Alun Wyn Jones in the City of Light on Saturday night. And while the almighty captain was, of course, spot on in his almost Churchillian declaration, it would be a lie to suggest that lesser Welshmen – ie the lot of us – did not take full and immediate solace in the wake of that heart-clutching, last-gasp defeat against France.
And as we dug ever deeper for nuggets of comfort, a few of the very sad among us found succour in the fact that we would at least not have to listen to the proclamations that this Wales team were “the worst Grand Slam champions of the Six Nations era” and, who knows, every era beforehand.
Alas, we should have known better – the disrespect was to arrive in other forms. Maybe I was a little oversensitive in begrudging those predictable “Wales players will be haunted for years” wrap-ups, but they did read as if the nation were rank outsiders and that here was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Fourteen of that starting XV had already won a Grand Slam and the odd one out, young Louis Reeszammit, hardly seems the type to stay still long enough to be possessed by demons. Wales have completed the Six Nations clean sweep four times in the past 16 years and the most recent occasion was all of two years ago. My goodness, entire legions of butterflies have come and gone in this barren period. How will Wales ever cope with the trauma?
As it is, Alun “Wyn-only” Jones will still be clutching silverware come Friday evening should France fail to register a bonuspoint victory against Scotland – by scoring four tries – and with a margin of 21 points or more. Naturally, the trophy presentation will feel hollow, and not only because the pandemic means there will be but a handful at whatever echo chamber they choose to conduct the necessaries.
Wayne Pivac’s men set out at the Stade de France to emulate the Dragons of 2019, ’12, ’08 and ’05, not to emulate the Dragons of ’13 who landed the championship but not all the spoils. Yet the latter is still worth winning, still means something, still holds some value, even if pride is worthless.
Put it this way, if you had offered Wales the title at the start of the campaign they would have ripped your arm clean from its socket. And to claim that the championship trophy amounts to nothing unless it is surrounded by the full quintet of scalps is hugely disrespectful to the competition itself .
But if Jones remains nonplussed, he can claim there is no obligation to honour a championship which does not even have the power to honour its own status.
Scotland will be missing Sean Maitland – the former Lions tourist – in Paris because the rearranged fixture falls outside the international window. The English clubs were generous enough to strike a deal with the Six Nations, but limited the number of players who could be called up.
So, Scotland, through no fault of their own, will be at a disadvantage in their mission to finish second and, by extension, Welsh hopes will be operating at a similarly unfair handicap. In fact, if you are laying the fault anywhere, it should be at France’s door, because they were the ones whose squad protocols allowed Covid-19 to force the postponement of their match against the Scots three weeks ago.
Except that is not the point. Whatever the circumstances, the Six Nations should never need to go begging for a compromise with the Premiership. World Rugby should make clear that, in this case, Test match takes precedence over club match and protect the integrity of a tournament that is regularly referred to as the biggest and best on the annual rugby union calendar.
Yet World Rugby is essentially without authority, remaining so toothless it should be the governing body of gurning. And that is the huge flaw in a sport that seems hell-bent on ruinous civil war. At a moment in life when union should come together, respect happens to be at an all-time minimum. Money. It is simply about money.