Numbers game a huge concern
You probably think you know what the most interesting rugby story in the country was last weekend. You’re (probably) wrong.
No question, the ultimate conceit of the columnist is the very idea their opinion carries more weight than those of the people who read it. Until the advent of social media, it was a one-sided relationship but now any Tom can call any Harry a dick, often under the cloak of anonymity (which is, seriously, a bit of a dick move).
So, at the risk of coming across as a bit of a you-know-what, the most important rugby story this weekend wasn’t Jordie Barrett’s virtuoso performance at fullback, though it was very nice indeed. He’s a more upright, north-to-south runner than Damian McKenzie, but his ability to beat men in the broken field is a potent reminder of his game-breaking ability.
About that broken field.
The Chiefs’ return to haplessness, after a four-game burst of respectability, has been thorough. Their defensive line was hopelessly exposed, like a chess novice trying to take on a grandmaster with a board full of pawns.
But that wasn’t the biggest story either.
Nor was it the Crusaders’ continued dominance and Richie Mo’unga’s plans to stick around for a bit.
These things are all interesting enough diversions at the pointy end of the game, which we know is in decent health here — certainly, it is hale and hearty in comparison to the emphysemic invalid known as Australian rugby.
No, the most intriguing story of the weekend was this: Glenfield defaulted their premier club match last Saturday.
Think about that for a minute. This isn’t a typical rural or small-town situation where an area becomes rapidly depopulated, or a team is affected by a significant event like a wedding or funeral. This is one of the largest suburbs in one of the most heavily populated areas of the country’s biggest city.
While it may have never been a powerhouse club, it is one that has a feeder college literally next door to its home ground — albeit one that doesn’t have a rugby team — and several other high schools nearby.
“We had our 50th anniversary at Easter,” says club president Alan Linstrom. “We had a good turnout for that. For some reason, a whole bunch of players didn’t turn up [the following week].”
This, just to remind you, is not social footy where a teammate’s stag do on a Friday night is always likely to cause an issue the following day — this is premier club footy.
“Player numbers are an issue,” says Linstrom. “We’re just not getting the school leavers.”
His is not a unique lament. Neither Navy nor Helensville can field a premier club team in the Harbour competition, and other clubs are understood to be feeling the pinch.
The point of this is not to pick on North Harbour which, although densely populated, has demographic challenges to deal with.
The union is noted as being one of the more proactive when it comes to community rugby programmes and talent retention.
Down country, the issues are just as acute; in some cases more so. Clubs are disappearing.
While holidaying in Central Otago this summer, I noticed signs appealing for players to muster for Clyde-Earnscleugh. They didn’t work, with the club withdrawing before the start of the season. They have been followed in short order by neighbours Matakanui.
In Manawatu, Linton have already defaulted once this season and the coach expressed doubt the team would see out the season. There have been several defaults in Southland and no doubt others in smaller, fully amateur unions.
What does this all mean? Unless there is a huge pivot in emphasis, this is the future of rugby
. . . and the future is America!
In the States, American football is a high-performance pursuit. You either make it as a player or you watch it as a spectator.
That is where rugby in New Zealand is heading — and it is heading there at breakneck speed.
And that might not feel like a massive story to you, but it is to those who have dedicated their lives to clubs who can no longer field teams.
It’s also worth bearing in mind the next time you watch a Barrett brother weave past three would-be defenders to score and you find yourself about to remark on the embarrassment of riches New Zealand rugby possesses.
Unless there is a huge pivot in emphasis, this is the future of rugby . . . and the future is America!