Global success that nearly fell at first hurdle
The driving force behind the inaugural World Cup tells Daniel Schofield how it was almost cancelled ‘You’re wasting your time. You’ll start a World Cup over my dead body’
What would rugby be without the World Cup? As millions of television viewers tune in to watch the ninth edition of the tournament that kicks off in Tokyo, it is worth reflecting on how the third-biggest sporting event on the planet was once a pipe dream, both feared and scorned.
The creation of the World Cup was far from inevitable. The first tournament in 1987 faced ferocious opposition and huge hurdles. That it went ahead owes everything to two men: Sir Nick Shehadie, who passed away last year aged 92, and Dick Littlejohn, who remains as sharp as a tack at 88 and spoke to The Daily Telegraph from Whakatane, New Zealand.
With the backing of their respective unions – Australia and New Zealand – in the early 1980s, Shehadie and Littlejohn were given the brief of persuading a sceptical northern hemisphere of the need to stage a competition to determine who could call themselves world champions. Scepticism was often replaced by outright hostility.
The morning after their first meeting with Ireland and Scotland’s representatives, the pair headed down to breakfast to be met by the treasurer of the Scottish Rugby Union, Gordon Masson. “We were walking past his table and he pushed out his chair to stop us and said, ‘You two are wasting your time, you’ll start a World Cup over my dead body,’” Littlejohn recalls with a chuckle.
The notion of establishing a World Cup started taking on greater urgency at the start of the 1980s, particularly after Australian sports promoter David Lord approached dozens of players, threatening to set up a Kerry Packer-style breakaway league.
In 1984, the International Rugby Board commissioned a feasibility study at the behest of Australia and New Zealand, and so what became known as the “Nick and Dick show” began. For the World Cup to be established, Littlejohn and Shehadie needed to secure 75 per cent of the vote from the eightmember IRB council, comprising the Five Nations (as then), South Africa, Australia and New Zealand.
The fault-lines of rugby ran along home nations’ self-interest versus everyone else. Plus ca change. “We got the distinct feeling that they [thought they] did not need us,” Littlejohn says. “I don’t think they did it [looked to launch a World Cup themselves] because they had a great little competition in the northern hemisphere which was financially solvent and there was no risk. But the game was not progressing beyond Europe.”
Ireland and Scotland, fierce protectors of amateurism, were staunch opponents, fearing – correctly – that the World Cup would be a Trojan Horse to professionalism. France, Wales and England were more receptive. Littlejohn says his pitch was simple. “[The game of rugby] needed to be advanced worldwide. If someone did not do something towards promoting the game, it would eventually curl up and die.”
On March 21 1985, the IRB met and held a secret ballot on Shehadie and Littlejohn’s proposal. The details of the vote remain unknown but it is thought that France, Wales and England provided the votes to approve the inaugural World Cup in 1987.
The vote was just the start. Creating a World Cup from scratch was a mammoth task, with John Kendall-carpenter joining Littlejohn and Shehadie on the organising committee. New Zealand and Australia had the venues, but they needed to raise $10million. “We took some awful risks,” Littlejohn says. “The New Zealand union was only worth $7million in those days. The Australian union did not really have anything much.”
With 12 months to go, the tournament was still lacking a sponsor. Then Littlejohn got a call saying a Japanese company was interested, boarded the next flight to Tokyo and KDD, a telecommunications business, committed $3million. “If it had not been for them, we would have had to cancel, and if we cancelled [the 1987 tournament] then the World Cup would not have started until this century,” Littlejohn says. “It is fitting that the World Cup is going to Japan because we needed that Japanese support to get it going.”
Asked how close it was to not going ahead, Littlejohn says: “It was close, I wouldn’t like to give odds, but we knew if we could get it started it would blossom.”
And so on May 22, 1987, the first game of the inaugural World Cup got under way when Italy kicked off against New Zealand. “Nick and I were at different ends of the grandstand but the moment the Italian player kicked off, he and I looked along this long row of seating and gave each other a thumbs-up,” Littlejohn says. The All Blacks went on to win the tournament but, significantly, the event made a small profit and was broadcast all round the world. The World Cup was here to stay.
Littlejohn admits the World Cup has grown beyond what he envisaged. “The game changed when it went professional. Money is king now.” In some ways he says he feels like “Frankenstein’s creator”, but still retains a tremendous sense of pride at his role. “I don’t think I could have done anything more important in my rugby life than that,” Littlejohn says. “It changed the game. We knew it would.”
Four years later, the next tournament was staged in all of the Five Nations, with Scotland hosting a quarter-final and semi-final.
Littlejohn and Shehadie were in attendance at Murrayfield when they spotted Masson, chatting to the Princess Royal. Littlejohn explains what happened next: “Sir Nick gave him a horsefly bite on his arm. [Masson] let out a little yelp and Nick said, ‘Sorry, I just wanted to know if you were still alive.’ ”