Borders reel from a misjudged tirade


Plain speaking from Murrayfield is to be welcomed, says Alasdair Reid, but timing is everything



For lovers of black comedy, there has never been a shortage of entertainment in the long-running farce that has unfolded along the corridors of rugby power at Murrayfield down the years, but the current occupants of that perennial house of fun added a new twist of perversity to the plot-line with the timing of the tirade that set the sport’s media agenda for much of last week.
The spark was ignited at a Tuesday briefing at the stadium that was supposed to be nothing more than a cosy chinwag on the matter of community rugby. Instead, the gathering was dominated by SRU chief executive Gordon McKie’s fierce critique of the Border Reivers pro team and a clear threat that the outfit would be disbanded if results and attendances could not be improved.

Fair enough, you might say, for Scottish rugby has suffered long enough from the mealy-mouthed prevarication of administrators whose serial bungling produced a legacy of mountainous debt and catastrophic infighting. Yet if the broad thrust of McKie’s argument was true, its timing could not have been worse. In the early weeks of a season in which Borders officials have been obliged to concentrate on firefighting duties, they could probably contain their gratitude for another sloshing of paraffin from McKie.

All the more so at a time of the year in which critical adjustments to the squad may have to be made. Recruitment has been one of the hardest parts of Borders coach Steve Bates’ job, and it is certainly not made any easier by public displays of belligerence from the other end of the A7. The most modest expectation a player can entertain is the belief that his new club will be around for the foreseeable future; without that, he will go elsewhere.

More galling still, McKie’s outburst was made the day before a potentially critical meeting between represent atives of Border clubs and David Kilshaw, the recently appointed chairman of the Border Reivers board. For those who like to portray the inhabitants of the area as cud-chewing yokels locked into cycles of ancient enmities, it must be a considerable inconvenience that Kilshaw is a businessman of substance and an experienced administrator.

Kilshaw also knows the local rugby scene inside-out – and there are few left at Murrayfield who could say that of themselves. If the paradox of Borders rugby is that an area that has long been one of the world’s most celebrated breeding grounds of talent has also shown indifference to the presence of a professional side, then it is individuals such as Kilshaw who might solve it. It is unlikely that he appreciated the headlines McKie made on the day he was setting out to build important bridges.

Every Murrayfield administration ever formed – and let’s face it, there have been a few – have enjoyed the services of commentators whose sycophancy has strayed so close to cheerleading that you might sometimes have wondered whether their typing speeds were not compromised by the presence of pom-poms. Those shouting for the Borders might bellow about crowds that are, relative to overall population, higher than those attracted by Edinburgh or Glasgow; others might stress the point that the Borders has no God-given right to preferential treatment from Scottish rugby as a whole.

What is clear, however, is that arguments based on population densities must take account of a number of other factors – and historic support for the game is one of them. In the northern hemisphere, rugby has developed in geographical pockets, in which context the Borders is no different to south-west France, south Wales or England’s west country. Equally, there are significantly populous parts of England, France and Wales that, even in the professional era, have failed to develop rugby at the highest level.

Evidence? Overwhelming. The Guinness Premiership has four west country sides – Bristol, Gloucester, Worcester and Bath – but not a single team from the mighty conurbations of Yorkshire, Lancashire or the West Midlands. National League One is currently led by Devon’s Plymouth Albion, while the Cornishmen of Launceston top National League Two. And remember, too, that rugby league has been a professional sport in England for more than a century, but has yet to establish a single, credible and lasting outpost beyond the confines of the M62 corridor.

There is also the case that rugby in the Borders has evolved along lines that take no regard of social class. Were the SRU to retrench their resources into Scottish cities, the move would be interpreted as a concentration of funds in areas where the game is still seen – wrongly, in many instances – as a pastime of the elite. Generally speaking, that is not quite the impression that finds favour with government sources when funds are being dished out.

And yet there is, unquestionably, still a huge question mark against the viability of a professional rugby team in the Borders area. There is no point in boasting about relative attendances if the absolute figures remain dismally low. Rugby has long been, and still is, a central part of Borders life and a foundation stone of Borders identity, but if that tradition cannot be translated into support for the professional tier of the game then the plug will indeed have to be pulled.

Clearly, establishing links with clubs whose combined memberships run into many thousands is the key to making a success of the venture. Kilshaw has deep enough roots in the area to understand that supporters will only come in numbers if they can develop a sense of ownership of the team. In which regard, a little less shooting from the lip at Murrayfield would probably help his cause.

This article was posted on 1-Oct-2006, 07:47 by Hugh Barrow.