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From The Observer newspaper:
On the up from being under
[font=arial,helvetica,sans-serif]A game played in the mud of winter has emerged as a summer sport to adorn new arenas. Kevin Mitchell reports on rugby league's rebirth[/font]
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]Sunday October 16, 2005
The Observer
[/font]
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]This was a grand final in every sense - a fitting conclusion to the 10th season of Super League. And it would be nice to imagine that somewhere in the deep south yesterday there was a wave of goodwill directed towards Old Trafford, where the most innovative game in sport was showcasing its season-closer in front of a sellout crowd. But that would be naive.
There is no escaping the fact that there are still rugby union diehards - in the clubhouses of the Home Counties and in the media - who have no time for rugby league. So ingrained are their prejudices that they refuse to entertain the mildest feelings of warmth for the code they have resented since its breakaway from the union 110 years ago. That's a long time to bear a grudge.
Reassuringly, it is far from a universal view. In more enlightened corners of union - especially since the game officially went professional 10 years ago - there is an appreciation of their rival for what it is: stripped-down, unapologetic sports entertainment played by dedicated athletes.
Yesterday the warriors colliding on behalf of Leeds and Bradford provided raw, uncompromising and committed rugby in a spirit of no begpardons and no apologies.
For the faithful, it was no novelty; for the recently converted and metropolitan types sent by southern-based papers to examine the phenomenon, it was predictably eye-opening. When Richard Mathers, running the ball out of the Leeds 22 at a quick lick, dipped his shoulder into the head of his would-be tackler Paul Johnson, he left the Bulls second-rower semi-conscious and one or two hacks a little queasy. The fans loved it - and, amazingly, Johnson later returned to the fray.
All about them, meanwhile, water carriers and physios scurried behind the lines like medics on a battle-field, reviving their foot-soldiers with whatever magic stuff they put in those plastic bottles. Rugby league in 2005 mixes science seamlessly with muscle and guile. The pace rarely slackened. Decisions went unquestioned. Fans applauded the opposition on (and then, quite rightly, gave them hell for the rest of the evening). And what national winter game could we not say all that about?
It is 10 years since league performed one of its many acts of metamorphosis: it invented Super League, funded by a man who would normally be considered a natural enemy of the working classes - Rupert Murdoch, in case you've been away - and it switched to summer to avoid a ratings and fixture clash with football. There are not many sports brave enough to have done that, although there is no denying that desperation and fear played their part in the decision.
As John Huxley, league's main media man, says: 'The sport was dying on its feet. We had to be radical and, as often in the past, we were. And still are.' That is an aspect of league that marks it out from its competitors. It is constantly fine-tuning the product. The game I grew up on is almost unrecognisable from the bewilderingly quick yet still physical wars that are attracting crowds in ever increasing numbers.
Rugby league was the first with substitutions, the sin-bin, the blood-bin and regular Sunday fixtures; it has a salary cap that works. Within the structure of the game itself, it introduced the six-tackle rule and has created a space between tacklers and attackers that allows teams to create uncluttered forward movement. It has taken an enlightened attitude towards crossing, with referees ignoring it altogether if the defending side are not obviously impeded. The scrum, a token gesture at best, remains the one blot on the game and might one day be scrapped altogether.
Mike Stephenson has seen the revolution as player and commentator. He grew up in Dewsbury and captained their team to the championship in 1973. He went on to captain Great Britain and, known more widely as Stevo (a shortening of his name he picked up while playing for Penrith in NSW), is now the voice of the sport on Sky - and acknowledges that, without Murdoch, his sport would have been in trouble.
'Everyone knows it's a great game,' he says. 'You don't have to sell it to people who grew up with it. It sells itself. But it needed reinventing. I remember the old days. It was slower. It wasn't anywhere near as attractive a spectacle as it is now. It was played in run-down stadiums, in the mud of winter. Now a lot of the stadiums have been revamped and they play on clean, dry surfaces. There are new grounds too [the JJB, the KC Stadium and the Halliwell Jones] and they're being filled by people who know a good deal when they see one.'
Stephenson recognises, also, that tradition is important in a sport whose supporters still come from close-knit communities, and he hopes that the museum he has set up at the George Hotel in Huddersfield - where the game was born - will keep that spirit alive.
Eric Ashton is another veteran who knows how close rugby league came to going under. Uniquely, he has captained, coached and managed teams to Challenge Cup victory and has been in the game for more than 50 years. 'Our great game would have been long gone by now but for Super League,' he said recently. 'I was fearing for the game's future as far back as the early 70s. Something was needed to throw a lifeline. Today's generation of supporter simply wouldn't tolerate being stuck out on the terraces in the freezing cold, rain and snow.' Without wishing this to sound like an unpaid advertisement, there can hardly be better value than rugby league in mainstream British sport.
In the play-off game at Knowsley Road two Fridays ago, children of all ages packed the place out. And it was easy to see why league would pick up those disenchanted with prices at football: season tickets for kids at St Helens, for instance, start at £35; ground season tickets for adults are as low as £165; stand tickets go for £220 for the season.
Sean MacGuire, the Saints' chief executive, says: 'More than 40 per cent of our season ticket members are under 16, and nearly the same percentage are female. Rugby league has become a genuine family attraction, and we want to continue to cultivate a welcoming atmosphere.' Saints and Bradford fans mixed with the sort of freedom I'd long forgotten, in an old stand that, legend has it, actually sways when the home team celebrate a try. Walking home after the game that night, one noticed there was no sense that unaccompanied children leaving the ground were in fear of getting caught up in aggravation. There wasn't any.
What strikes newcomers to the game is how passionate its followers are. They don't just love it, they live it. Rugby league sells itself not just as a sport but as a guide for living. There is an obvious emphasis on family values, courtesy, respect for opponents and their fans. Racial abuse is not tolerated. That is not to say there aren't outbreaks of vulgarity, and very occasionally violence. Any sport that inspires such intense feelings is bound to experience excesses from time to time. But those moments are rare. Leeds, who finished second in Super League behind St Helens but initially emerged strongest in the play-offs, have attracted average crowds of more than 17,000. Attendances have increased across the board every year for the past decade. Average attendance is 8,750. There are 30,000 boys and girls playing it in schools, and not just in the north. There are teams from Cornwall to Ireland, from Crawley and St Albans, in Germany, Holland and Spain. Next season, the Catalan Dragons join Super League.
The climax of the domestic season is followed by the Tri-Nations tournament, which started yesterday in Sydney, where New Zealand upset Australia, and moves to Britain on 29 October, beginning with the most anticipated of the clashes, Great Britain against Australia at Loftus Road. 'For too long,' says Stephenson, 'we've been second best to Australia, borrowing their methods, their players, their coaches. Now, though, we're very close to them. We've earned that right.'
As for the 'other rugby', a joint game is unlikely. There have been cross-code experiments in the past, but they looked more like gimmicks than genuine attempts to integrate. John Huxley describes the relationship as 'respectful'. But, he says: 'They are still totally different games, with different cultural backgrounds.'
At Old Trafford yesterday, it was very much a case of vive la difference.
It all adds up to good news for rugby league 4 The number of miles the London Broncos have moved from Brentford to Twickenham, while becoming Harlequins RL
1 The number of countries with rugby league as the national sport (Papua New Guinea)
22 The number of clubs who broke away from the RFU in 1895 to form the Northern Union, which eventually became the Rugby Football League
40 The percentage of rugby league fans who are female
17,007 This season's average attendance for the Leeds Rhinos, making them the best supported rugby team in either code
2 The number of rugby league scholarships available at Oxford University
3 The number of former rugby league players currently part of the England rugby union coaching team: Phil Larder, Dave Alred and Joe Lydon
One thing I will say is, why when league goes through down years is it going to die? It must be the only sport in the world that is constantly told it is going to die.[/font]
On the up from being under
[font=arial,helvetica,sans-serif]A game played in the mud of winter has emerged as a summer sport to adorn new arenas. Kevin Mitchell reports on rugby league's rebirth[/font]
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]Sunday October 16, 2005
The Observer
[/font]
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]This was a grand final in every sense - a fitting conclusion to the 10th season of Super League. And it would be nice to imagine that somewhere in the deep south yesterday there was a wave of goodwill directed towards Old Trafford, where the most innovative game in sport was showcasing its season-closer in front of a sellout crowd. But that would be naive.
There is no escaping the fact that there are still rugby union diehards - in the clubhouses of the Home Counties and in the media - who have no time for rugby league. So ingrained are their prejudices that they refuse to entertain the mildest feelings of warmth for the code they have resented since its breakaway from the union 110 years ago. That's a long time to bear a grudge.
Reassuringly, it is far from a universal view. In more enlightened corners of union - especially since the game officially went professional 10 years ago - there is an appreciation of their rival for what it is: stripped-down, unapologetic sports entertainment played by dedicated athletes.
Yesterday the warriors colliding on behalf of Leeds and Bradford provided raw, uncompromising and committed rugby in a spirit of no begpardons and no apologies.
For the faithful, it was no novelty; for the recently converted and metropolitan types sent by southern-based papers to examine the phenomenon, it was predictably eye-opening. When Richard Mathers, running the ball out of the Leeds 22 at a quick lick, dipped his shoulder into the head of his would-be tackler Paul Johnson, he left the Bulls second-rower semi-conscious and one or two hacks a little queasy. The fans loved it - and, amazingly, Johnson later returned to the fray.
All about them, meanwhile, water carriers and physios scurried behind the lines like medics on a battle-field, reviving their foot-soldiers with whatever magic stuff they put in those plastic bottles. Rugby league in 2005 mixes science seamlessly with muscle and guile. The pace rarely slackened. Decisions went unquestioned. Fans applauded the opposition on (and then, quite rightly, gave them hell for the rest of the evening). And what national winter game could we not say all that about?
It is 10 years since league performed one of its many acts of metamorphosis: it invented Super League, funded by a man who would normally be considered a natural enemy of the working classes - Rupert Murdoch, in case you've been away - and it switched to summer to avoid a ratings and fixture clash with football. There are not many sports brave enough to have done that, although there is no denying that desperation and fear played their part in the decision.
As John Huxley, league's main media man, says: 'The sport was dying on its feet. We had to be radical and, as often in the past, we were. And still are.' That is an aspect of league that marks it out from its competitors. It is constantly fine-tuning the product. The game I grew up on is almost unrecognisable from the bewilderingly quick yet still physical wars that are attracting crowds in ever increasing numbers.
Rugby league was the first with substitutions, the sin-bin, the blood-bin and regular Sunday fixtures; it has a salary cap that works. Within the structure of the game itself, it introduced the six-tackle rule and has created a space between tacklers and attackers that allows teams to create uncluttered forward movement. It has taken an enlightened attitude towards crossing, with referees ignoring it altogether if the defending side are not obviously impeded. The scrum, a token gesture at best, remains the one blot on the game and might one day be scrapped altogether.
Mike Stephenson has seen the revolution as player and commentator. He grew up in Dewsbury and captained their team to the championship in 1973. He went on to captain Great Britain and, known more widely as Stevo (a shortening of his name he picked up while playing for Penrith in NSW), is now the voice of the sport on Sky - and acknowledges that, without Murdoch, his sport would have been in trouble.
'Everyone knows it's a great game,' he says. 'You don't have to sell it to people who grew up with it. It sells itself. But it needed reinventing. I remember the old days. It was slower. It wasn't anywhere near as attractive a spectacle as it is now. It was played in run-down stadiums, in the mud of winter. Now a lot of the stadiums have been revamped and they play on clean, dry surfaces. There are new grounds too [the JJB, the KC Stadium and the Halliwell Jones] and they're being filled by people who know a good deal when they see one.'
Stephenson recognises, also, that tradition is important in a sport whose supporters still come from close-knit communities, and he hopes that the museum he has set up at the George Hotel in Huddersfield - where the game was born - will keep that spirit alive.
Eric Ashton is another veteran who knows how close rugby league came to going under. Uniquely, he has captained, coached and managed teams to Challenge Cup victory and has been in the game for more than 50 years. 'Our great game would have been long gone by now but for Super League,' he said recently. 'I was fearing for the game's future as far back as the early 70s. Something was needed to throw a lifeline. Today's generation of supporter simply wouldn't tolerate being stuck out on the terraces in the freezing cold, rain and snow.' Without wishing this to sound like an unpaid advertisement, there can hardly be better value than rugby league in mainstream British sport.
In the play-off game at Knowsley Road two Fridays ago, children of all ages packed the place out. And it was easy to see why league would pick up those disenchanted with prices at football: season tickets for kids at St Helens, for instance, start at £35; ground season tickets for adults are as low as £165; stand tickets go for £220 for the season.
Sean MacGuire, the Saints' chief executive, says: 'More than 40 per cent of our season ticket members are under 16, and nearly the same percentage are female. Rugby league has become a genuine family attraction, and we want to continue to cultivate a welcoming atmosphere.' Saints and Bradford fans mixed with the sort of freedom I'd long forgotten, in an old stand that, legend has it, actually sways when the home team celebrate a try. Walking home after the game that night, one noticed there was no sense that unaccompanied children leaving the ground were in fear of getting caught up in aggravation. There wasn't any.
What strikes newcomers to the game is how passionate its followers are. They don't just love it, they live it. Rugby league sells itself not just as a sport but as a guide for living. There is an obvious emphasis on family values, courtesy, respect for opponents and their fans. Racial abuse is not tolerated. That is not to say there aren't outbreaks of vulgarity, and very occasionally violence. Any sport that inspires such intense feelings is bound to experience excesses from time to time. But those moments are rare. Leeds, who finished second in Super League behind St Helens but initially emerged strongest in the play-offs, have attracted average crowds of more than 17,000. Attendances have increased across the board every year for the past decade. Average attendance is 8,750. There are 30,000 boys and girls playing it in schools, and not just in the north. There are teams from Cornwall to Ireland, from Crawley and St Albans, in Germany, Holland and Spain. Next season, the Catalan Dragons join Super League.
The climax of the domestic season is followed by the Tri-Nations tournament, which started yesterday in Sydney, where New Zealand upset Australia, and moves to Britain on 29 October, beginning with the most anticipated of the clashes, Great Britain against Australia at Loftus Road. 'For too long,' says Stephenson, 'we've been second best to Australia, borrowing their methods, their players, their coaches. Now, though, we're very close to them. We've earned that right.'
As for the 'other rugby', a joint game is unlikely. There have been cross-code experiments in the past, but they looked more like gimmicks than genuine attempts to integrate. John Huxley describes the relationship as 'respectful'. But, he says: 'They are still totally different games, with different cultural backgrounds.'
At Old Trafford yesterday, it was very much a case of vive la difference.
It all adds up to good news for rugby league 4 The number of miles the London Broncos have moved from Brentford to Twickenham, while becoming Harlequins RL
1 The number of countries with rugby league as the national sport (Papua New Guinea)
22 The number of clubs who broke away from the RFU in 1895 to form the Northern Union, which eventually became the Rugby Football League
40 The percentage of rugby league fans who are female
17,007 This season's average attendance for the Leeds Rhinos, making them the best supported rugby team in either code
2 The number of rugby league scholarships available at Oxford University
3 The number of former rugby league players currently part of the England rugby union coaching team: Phil Larder, Dave Alred and Joe Lydon
One thing I will say is, why when league goes through down years is it going to die? It must be the only sport in the world that is constantly told it is going to die.[/font]
