Protecting No.9s has killed the dive pass
Whatever happened to the dive pass? I was pondering the longevity of modern-day scrum-halves recently with Ben Youngs’ record breaking 115th England cap probably the catalyst for a few random thoughts. What’s the secret, how do they keep going and how do they differ from top notch nines of yesteryear?
And the $64,000 question, the biggie. Whatever happened to the scrum-half ’s dive pass, one of rugby’s great aesthetic glories? Much more of which anon.
When it comes to longevity it is not just Youngs of course. In English rugby alone we also have Richard Wigglesworth, who has made a record 312 Premiership appearances and is still doing his stuff as a playercoach for Leicester at the age of 38, and Danny Care is playing as well as ever for Quins. Beside his 84 England caps Care, 35, is closing in on 80 Premiership tries and has just signed up for another year. Remarkable players one and all in their different ways.
All three, as well as having a fabulous array of pass and kicking skills, are dedicated professionals – tough, consistent and wiry. None of them shirk a tackle that needs to be made but – and here we perhaps have a key to their long careers – they are canny enough to know there are others in the team much better equipped for such tasks.
Their primary job is to be always on two feet and available for their team, and to be available for as many matches per season as is humanly possible. No side functions for very long without their nine buzzing around, no tens can be seen to best effect without their favourite nine launching them. Whisper it very quietly because they get enough praise as it is but scrum-halves are extremely important players.
It’s the only position where self-preservation is definitely part of the job description. Tens used to enjoy the same license to occasionally withdraw themselves from the firing line but Jonny went and changed all that and, great man that he is, has silently been cursed by all fly-halves ever since.
And of course that process has been heightened in recent years by the lawmakers’ decisions to in any case declare scrum-halves an endangered species. They have become the great untouchables which unquestionably aids their longevity in such a physical game.
You literally aren’t allowed to touch them at the base of a scrum or ruck anymore until they have lifted the ball – a process that can take longer than raising the Titanic. Scrumhalves play around with it endless with their feet, have a chat with the ten, catch their breath and even readjust and spin the ball around on the ground with their hands. Occasional shouts from the ref of “five seconds” are totally ignored.
On occasions – perhaps they are just bored and absent minded? – they even roll the ball forward to obtain the best position from which to pass or kick. Surely that is a knock on? But no, scrum-halves can do almost no wrong in the eyes of modern day referees, they operate in a protected bubble.
Which is surely why we have lost the glorious art of the dive pass. The last modern day nine I can recall who often used the spectacular dive pass in preference to the statuesque spin pass is Joost van der Westhuizen of blessed memory. But since then? Hardly at all. Please pass on any sightings of said dive pass to this column so we can issue a few gongs.
Just about everybody used to dive pass, or at least have it as an important part of their armoury. Dickie Jeeps, Gareth Edwards, Jan Webster, Terry Holmes, David Bishop, Jacques Foroux, Pierre Berbizier, Dave Kirk, Nick Farr-Jones, Uncle
Tom Cobbley and all.
From what I can garner, having spoken to a few of them on this subject in the past, the dive pass came into play for two reasons.
Firstly if you really go back a few years the heavy, sodden, slippery leather balls were not the easiest to get a grip and spin long distances. To get distance you needed the physical momentum of a full horizontal dive and late flick of the wrists.
The quality of the rugby balls varied – the ones in France with those distinctive black tips at each end were sleek torpedoes compared with many – and Edwards did add a mighty spin pass to his repertoire mid-career but certainly in the early days his dive pass dominated and he never hesitated to redeploy it later in his career.
But the main reason is that back in the day, even 30 years ago when Joost was just starting out, scrum-halves were not a protected species. There were proper ferocious dynamic sprawling wild west rucks to contend with or the ball spewed out of chaotic lineouts or flankers were allowed almost unlimited license to roam offside.
Scrum-halves had little or no time to complete their pass. Certainly not enough time to set yourself squat and low, get your feet pointing in the right direction and your hands gripping the ball in the appropriate fashion and then employ a big wind up to fizz out a spin pass.
No, you grabbed the ball and dived full length towards your ten which meant that marauding flankers were automatically another six feet or so further away from the ball than they wanted. It was protection against getting sacked and then, at the full extension of your dive, you stretched out and flicked the ball away.
It was thrilling to watch and it’s a shame the modern-day spectator is denied the spectacle these days.