HEWETT COLUMN
Refs should take French lessons to level the field in European Cup
If the people at World Rugby, the non-governing governing body, want to make themselves useful for once – a change is as good as a rest, so why not give it a go? – they could address one of the more glaring injustices in the sport by encouraging all Englishspeaking referees to find their inner Frenchness and give expression to it.
It isn’t asking much. We’re not talking about Nigel Owens taking the field with a string of onions where his whistle should be, or Andrew Brace donning a beret and concealing absinthe-soaked croissants under his matelot shirt so he can feed his face during prolonged injury breaks. A word or two of French would do nicely, just to show willing.
Unfortunately, the idea that leading officials in the Union code will spend their Monday nights learning the language of Flaubert and Rimbaud at their local night school is as far-fetched as the chances of England playing a full Test in Tbilisi or Nuku’alofa this side of eternity.
The players from Top 14 land have been blighted for years by rugby’s language barrier and their suffering has intensified since referees started delivering TED Talks at every scrum and breakdown.
The administrative class knows this to be the case, but far from insisting that anyone wishing to control a crossborder match involving any French side, including THE French side, must prove his or herself capable of issuing basic instructions in two languages rather than one, they continue to turn a blind eye.
In the spirit of helpfulness, this column has come up with a solution. Instead of requiring the whistlers to learn a whole new vocabulary (even if it amounts to fewer than a dozen words), we should settle for everyone, referees and players alike, taking a crash course in Franglais, as perfected by the late Miles Kington in such authoritative textbooks as Let’s Parler Franglais One More Temps.
It could be rugby’s version of a universal lingo and would be an absolute hoot: well worth the price of a trip to Paris on Six Nations day, even if you don’t have a ticket and find yourself watching – or rather, listening – to proceedings in some dive on the wrong side of the Peripherique. Imagine the scene at the first scrum:
Referee: “Permettez-moi vous expliquer the way it’s going to be.”
French captain (whispering): “Mon Dieu, nous avons a right one ici.”
Referee: “I want you to ecoutiez mes instructions.”
Captain (still whispering): “What a gaspillage d’espace.”
Referee (suspicious): “Etes-vous paying attention, mon ami?”
Captain (slightly louder): “Je ne suis pas votre ami, mate.”
As the scrum engages, the referee turns his attention to the tighthead prop.
Referee: “You’re boring a la melee.” Prop (out loud, not being the brightest): “Vous n’etes pas so interesting yourself.”
Referee (officiously): “Je suis en charge, so take me seriously, s’il vous plait.”
Prop (smirking): “Chance enorme.” Referee (rather put out): “If this continues, il y aura des consequences.”
Prop (rolling his eyes): “I’ve had more fun mange-ing un sandwich de merde.”
Referee (now angry): “Je ne telling you again pas.”
Prop (predictably): “Pardon?” Referee (spotting the joke): “Pensezvous que je suis born yesterday?”
Prop (recognising an open goal): “Oui. Naturellement.”
Referee (at the end of his tether): “Vous etes tres rude et disrespectful. Carton rouge.”
Prop (walking towards the tunnel, singing softly): “Nous sommes tous agree, l’arbitre is a…”
This must be the preferred solution, as it can be applied equally effectively when the Italians and Argentines are in town (although it may be a stretch too far with the Georgians and Japanese).
But as World Rugby is unusually proficient at doing nothing, there is little prospect of a trial run any time soon.
So here’s an alternative. Tell the referees to shut the hell up. Or, as a compromise, give them a very short list of words and phrases they are entitled to use while the ball is live – “ruck”, “maul”, “tackle”, “hands away”, that kind of thing – and tell them to save their more grandiose rhetoric for breaks in play, when disadvantaged teams can at least ensure one of their
English speakers participates in the conversation.
This way, players from all corners of the rugby landscape could acquaint themselves with a small number of key instructions, happy in the knowledge that everyone will receive the agreed amount of guidance and nothing more.
It was perfectly obvious during both of last weekend’s European finals that the French teams struggled with communication.
Plus ca change, as they say across the water. But change there must be, because the basic unfairness at the heart of the international refereeing operation is staring us all in the face.
This is only a guess, but if Racing 92 had been given the option of Wayne Barnes – an English official, yes, but one of the few who makes any kind of effort on the linguistic front – as referee for their Champions Cup final with Exeter, they might well have jumped at the chance.
As one of the Parisians’ more fluent Franglais speakers might then have said: “L’arbitre etait rubbish, but at least nous savons pourquoi he was rubbish.”
“Everyone, referees and players alike should take a crash course in Franglais”