An Opinion - Rugby's moral highground

In the heat of the Azteca stadium, Mexico City, June 1986, a stocky Argentinian named Diego Maradona created football's moral dilemma.

After a goalless first half of the World Cup semi fanal between England and Argentina, a mis hit clearance by Steve Hodge saw the football sit up in like a lonesome cloud in the clear, blue sky. Between Diego Maradona and the waiting net stood the giant presence of Peter Shilton. Having already lost the battle of height, the diminutive forward leapt as high as he could, and in his own words, the result was: "A little bit the head of Maradonna, a little bit the hand of God." Within five minutes, Maradona turned the ridiculous to the sublime, scoring what is still regarded as the greatest goal of all time.

Those who believe in karma probably weren't surprised when the Irish, who took great pleasure from seeing the old enemy get beaten so dramatically, were dumped out of the World Cup by the hand of Thierry Henry in Paris last November. But I am not writing to debate the place of cheating in modern sport, as any arguement only has one outcome. What I would like to do though, is look at the way cheating is perceived by the masses who follow both football and rugby; two sports which have contrasting traditions when it comes to cheating, or so it may seem.

For years I have listened to the die hard rugby faithful slam footballers for the cheating and conning of referees which is becoming a cancer of the beauiful game. Diving is the most prevalent type of cheating in football, and is slowly becoming commonplace in deciding the outcome of many important matches. But within the wiley old heads that play and coach rugby are levels of dishonesty which remain masked, somewhat, by the sheer force and physicality of the competitors on show.

There is a key difference between the levels of honesty in football and rugby. Football coaches are not known for telling their players to deceive the referee, and in many cases have been found to take internal measures against those who continue to cheat. But in rugby, coaches and experts alike, teach kids the art of dishonesty from a young age. Young prop forwards, and I was one of them, are being taught how to pull their opposing player to the ground during the scrum, resulting in a penalty being given by the referee, unaware of the tricks of the trade that experienced front rows pass down over the years. Diving, the trait most derided by the average rugby fan, is footballs nearest equivilent; conning the referee into thinking your opponent has fouled you.

Rugby and football fans view cheating in their respective sports with a complete oppositte approach. In football, pundits plead for hours on end to have divers retrospectively punished by FIFA and EUEFA, and fans boo and hurl abuse at those who show disrespect to their game. Among the rugby crowd, cheating receives a much different reaction though. Pundits on RTÉ, BBC and Sky, highlight the somewhat morally questionable decisions of many rugby players, and instead of looking for change, they look for others to do the same. One perfectly appropriate example to choose is the media attention dedicated Munster cult hero Alan Quinlan. The tipperary man has made a career, and achieved legend status amongst Irish rugby fans, for his ability to illegally steal the ball from opponents without the referee noticing. But instead of being harrassed by referees, hounded by the press and heckled by the fans, Quinlan has captured the imagination of rugby fans everywhere, being heralded by Sky Sports pundit, Stuart Barnes as the "Master of the Dark Arts." In August, Bloodgate opened many narrow rugby minds to the underhand tactics going on in their game, and a lengthy suspension handed to Dean Richards, signalled what was meant to be rugby's attempt to clean up the dirt that has developed on their sport. Instead, they have swept things under the rug. Moinsour Henry would be a fan of that.

Both Rugby and soccer should take led from the honesty shown by snooker playersand golfers, who have been known to call themselves up on fouls, even when they have been missed by match officials. In an ideal world, footballers and rugby players would have an epiphany, becoming morally responsible, and would stop at nothing to ensure their games are played to with fair play a forefront of their thoughts.

Being realistic though, a painful fall from their high horse is needed for rugby's snobbish die hards. Football knows it's faults, and doesn't need to be reminded.

"Sports do not build character. They reveal it" (Haywood Hale Broun)

NT