THE SCOTSMAN REPORTS

Scottish rugby still in denial as perpetual crisis hits a new low
ALLAN MASSIE
WHEN you read the story of some young delinquent's progress to the sort of crime that lands him in the dock of the High Court, you think that his parents must have consoled themselves at times with the thought that "surely it can't get worse; this time he'll reform". But he never does, and so indeed he continues on his disastrous way. Those of us who have followed the story of professional rugby in Scotland over the last decade are like the delinquent's unhappy parents. Surely this is the worst, we have said; surely there is light round the corner or at the end of the tunnel. Maybe there is, but we never reach it. Instead the gloom and darkness intensify.

Back in March when the closure of the Borders, Scotland's third pro team, was announced, the Scottish Rugby Union admitted that they had made a mess of running the professional game here. They found no dissenters. One can't of course blame the men now in charge at Murrayfield for what has gone wrong over the years. They have come in recently with the brief to put things right, to get the union's debt under control, and to organise the game in Scotland more effectively. They may have stabilised the financial situation, though this is not certain, and, as our rugby correspondent, David Ferguson wrote yesterday, their plans for club rugby and for youth and regional development were whole-heartedly approved at the recent agm. So there is something on the credit side.

Yet, at the same time, the professional game is in even worse trouble than it was two years ago. The third team has been disbanded. The sale of Edinburgh to private investors, Bob Carruthers and his associates, which promised so much, has resulted in bitter argument, which may yet end in the courts. Relations between Bob Carruthers and the SRU's chief executive, Gordon McKie, pictured right, seem to have broken down completely. Whether Edinburgh Rugby survives as an independent entity or control is resumed by the SRU, huge damage has been done. Public exasperation and despondency have attained unprecedented levels. There are real doubts as to whether professional rugby can survive in Scotland. If it doesn't, we can forget about even trying to hold our place among the top ten rugby-playing countries. After a few years we might not even be able to compete in the Six Nations. This is the grim prospect before us, the position we have reached after a decade of mismanagement, marked by the inability to pursue any consistent policy.

Go back a dozen years and the game here was flourishing. We had won the Grand Slam in 1984 (for the first time since 1925) and 1990. We came quite close again to doing so in 1995, a year when we won in Paris for the first time since 1969. We had competed respectably in the first three World Cups. Club rugby had flourished since the mid-Seventies and there were players who, even in a nation addicted to football, were household names. Then came professionalism.

Few in Scotland welcomed it. Nobody was prepared for it. Even a few weeks before the International Board sanctioned payment for players, Murrayfield was still insisting that the game would remain essentially amateur. So the IRB's decision took the SRU by surprise. How to respond? Almost at once we were in the midst of the first bitter argument: should the top clubs like Melrose, Hawick, Watsonians, Heriot's, GHK and West of Scotland be the vehicles for pro rugby here, allowed, even encouraged, to seek investors or buyers, and to succeed or fail, supported financially by the SRU only to a limited extent? Or should professional rugby be based on the four districts: Edinburgh, Glasgow, the South and North & Midlands? The dominant figure at Murrayfield, Jim Telfer, then director of rugby, had no doubt that the districts route was the correct one. Many agreed, but he met with ferocious opposition.

That opposition was democratically defeated by 178 votes to 24 at the union's agm. Twelve clubs, each with two votes, were against the Union's proposal. This should have been the end of the matter. In one sense it was. Yet the defeated clubs were bitter; many connected with them, others who agreed with their point of view, never fully accepted the defeat. The first crack had appeared, and the lack of support which the professional teams have had goes back to the divisions that opened up in 1995-6.

The decline was not immediate. In 1999 Scotland, playing some wonderfully imaginative and brilliant rugby, inspired by Gregor Townsend at fly-half, won the last Five Nations Championship. This was splendid and more than 10,000 people turned up at Murrayfield to greet the team on its return from Paris with the trophy. Yet there was something illusory about this triumph; it suggested a health that wasn't there. It masked what was going wrong. Few remarked for instance that half that successful side were not playing their rugby in Scotland. More noticed that we were now relying on imports from the southern hemisphere, like the Leslie brothers, two of that team's stars.

Meanwhile financial difficulties were intensifying. The fateful decision was taken to merge the four districts into two - a decision taken against Telfer's urging.The two teams were no more successful on the field than the four had been, and the genuine enthusiasm which has existed in the North & Midlands (renamed Caledonia) and the Borders was dissipated. Crowds fell away - in club rugby too. Fewer people were playing the game. It would soon be difficult to fill Murrayfield unless the visiting team brought 15,000 or 20,000 supporters. Players became uncertain as to their futures. Evidence of long-term commitment was lacking. The revival of the Borders a couple of years later was hamstrung by inadequate funding and the refusal of Murrayfield to relax control to a local board. If there was no assurance of long-term commitment, there was even less evidence of any consistent policy for development. Was there any vision in the corridors of Murrayfield? None that anyone could discern.

There was talk of new dawns and a new and more businesslike approach, but bright mornings turned to rainy afternoons and the businessmen in charge, after an overhaul of the Union's governing structure, were no more successful in repairing its finances than the old amateur administrators had been. Indeed they were soon ejected in a coup organised by members of the general committee, the so-called 'blazers'. New businessmen came in; the structure of governance was reformed - and things got worse, not better. The international side suffered two terrible seasons under the charge of a wayward Australian Matt Williams, and, though a new coach, Frank Hadden, pictured right, transferred from Edinburgh, restored morale and achieved better results, including the rare achievement of a victory over England, none of the underlying problems had been solved. The pro teams continued to disappoint, crowds remained poor; enthusiasm was low and only cynicism and defeatism flourished. Every victory was against the odds. One could only sympathise with the coach and players and admire their resolution as things crumbled about them.

The last four months have been the worst - and that is saying something. At this juncture it would be easy and satisfying to apportion blame and call for heads to roll - and I confess that in my anger at the closure of the Borders I gave way to that temptation in several articles in this paper. Now that we have arrived at the present fall-out between the SRU and Edinburgh Rugby, between Gordon McKie and Bob Carruthers, the temptation is different: simply to throw one's hands up in despair and walk away. Many will yield to it, and do just that: walk away from Murrayfield and vow never to return. But if we do just that, we might as well write the death notice for Scottish rugby. Things are that serious.

The game here - the SRU itself indeed - is like someone in the grip of alcoholism. There comes a point in the life-story of the alcoholic when he hits rock bottom. He can stay there and die or he can find his way back to a sober and meaningful life. The choice ultimately is his: to recover or expire. Recovery requires that he face up to his condition; it also requires him to admit what he has long denied: the interest, even the reality, of others. The SRU is in this condition today. It may have taken the first step to recovery when it admitted its mismanagement of the professional game; it must surely now recognise that one element of this mismanagement has been its inability to work constructively with others, the distrust of outside opinion and interests it has shown, what some call its control-freakery. These are things to be put right. At the same time the union's critics, myself among them, should also seek to come to a better and perhaps fairer understanding of its problems.

It may be that the present quarrel with Edinburgh Rugby does indeed represent rock-bottom. Let us hope so, for if there is worse to come, that surely will be the end. No doubt a successful World Cup would by itself do something to revive public interest, and this is possible because Frank Hadden and his players are a determined lot, and his team is closer to being a good one than its detractors and the cynics allow. But, unless the fundamental problems are sorted out, such a revival would be no more than a blip, like that experienced by the alcoholic who goes on the wagon for a few weeks and in this way convinced himself that there is nothing seriously wrong with him. Recovery will be hard. But, if reality is not looked in the face, then the death-knell will sound for the game of rugby here.

This article was posted on 11-Jul-2007, 06:55 by Hugh Barrow.