Club who rose from depths are indelibly stained by cheating
Close-season signing of Daly may have been the card that toppled the house of champions
Saracens used to be everyone’s favourite club: friendly, welcoming, homespun and, crucially, no great competitive threat. As the game went professional in the mid-nineties, the club were playing on council-managed pitches in north London, where it was often necessary to remove the deposits left behind by local dogs. It will take a damn sight longer to clean up this mess, which is of an altogether different order.
There might be some shades of grey in the sanction handed down by Premier Rugby against one of its own, such as what future allowance might be given to clubs that nurture young talent such as Owen Farrell and Maro Itoje only to see them grow into sizeable assets, but the reality is that this is an indelible stain on Saracens, on what they have achieved and on what they purport to stand for.
Nigel Wray is no black knight, raiding and pillaging and spending to serve his own needs. He will be grievously wounded by this judgment, not just because it imperils Saracens’ Premiership status this season, but because it tarnishes all that he wants the club to represent: humility, equality, fellowship, selflessness and empathy. On all those counts, yesterday’s ruling compromises those values, as if they had been no more than a PR front to an altogether more devious and scheming underside.
My view is that Saracens are not like that; that they truly believe in a sense of family, in player welfare, in charity, in legacy and all sorts of worthy causes such as their schools foundations and worldwide initiatives in clubs carrying their name. But there is no escaping what this decision represents. They have been found guilty of negligence at worst, naivety at best. It is not only their honours boards that have been affected. Their very being has.
They have taken regulations to the limit, and in the terms of reference issued by their own governing body, they have gone beyond. Call it financial doping. Call it cheating. Call it what you will. Saracens will never be seen in the same generous light again.
Wray is modern-day Saracens, on board since those Southgate
There was a lot of schadenfreude after the decision, a delight in the misery and shame
days, approached when the begging caps were being proffered around to try to just exist in the brave new world. Wray was a local figure who wanted to help. Of course, ego drives many a businessman who gets involved in sport. There is altruism, too, but also a fair bit of reflected glory even if it is at a price. Saracens will have cost Wray between £50million and £60million down the years, maybe more. It was worth every penny until this sanction was handed down.
Wray has never looked for a return on his investment. If he wanted to make money, then he certainly would not have looked to get involved in professional rugby. He would have carried on doing what he does for most of the week: investing in property first and foremost. Wray argued that investment is not salary. That such schemes can return losses as much as profits. Wray is reputed to be worth £315million. The man has not lost too often in business, which is the context for the deals with the likes of Farrell, Itoje and the Vunipola brothers.
In recent years, Saracens have become too successful for their own good. If that seems a harsh assessment on a club who have shown themselves to be exemplary in the way in which they keep pushing the boundaries of excellence in all they do, in their training routines, talent-spotting, physical as well as psychological conditioning of players, making them fit and also feel good about themselves, then it is to highlight how all this has come to pass.
There was a lot of schadenfreude after the decision was announced, a delight in the misery and shame of Saracens. That is what happens when you are top of the pile. People used to love Saracens for their rickety, down-to-earth demeanour. It took many years before the emotions turned sour. It is not as if Wray’s millions made a lasting difference. His brash early bankrolling when the galacticos Philippe Sella, Michael Lynagh and Francois Pienaar were signed yielded only one cup triumph.
It took a bold initiative 10 years ago to turn a hit-and-miss outfit into the behemoth Saracens have become. A commercial hook-up with South Africa investors tied in with the arrival of former Springbok centre Brendan Venter, as well as chief executive Edward Griffiths. These were the men who transformed the club by instilling all those values now under strain, the notion that it is performance that matters, not trophies, that it is collectivity that trumps all, not individual acts, that errors are forgivable but a lack of effort is not.
It all sounds happy-clappy piffle. But it worked. So did recruitment. But hubris lies within every human, the temptation for overreaching. Saracens had received a shot across the bows four years ago about their way of going about business. If there was one card that toppled the house, it was probably the close-season signing of Elliot Daly from Wasps.
What price, in all senses, for their squad now? Can anyone afford them if they have to be offloaded? Or might a pay cut have to be invoked? Will Saracens have to effectively forsake Europe as they focus on the league, all the more so given that their England contingent are restricted in the number of games they can play?
Saracens have appealed. That review process may alter the detail of the sanction. However, it can do nothing to lessen the blow to their standing in the game. It will be a grievous and lasting one.