News

Isn't it about time to stop all this?

May 27 2008

There's been a lot of column inches devoted to Wasps centre Riki Flutey this week, most of it centering around his qualification as an England player and his chances of cracking the Johnson nod come November.

Flutey would be a boon for England's midfield. But as he himself admitted in The Times: "I will never forget where home is [Wairarapa, to be precise] and I will always end up back at home. I am a staunch Maori, and nobody can take my culture away from me.

"When people first told me that I could play for England, I asked myself if I could do that, but I never got the chance to test my skills for the All Blacks at international level. There are so many good players over here, but if I did get the chance to measure my skills with England, it would be a fantastic honour, an awesome experience."

Does this seem a mite unfair? Flutey is in fine fettle, but Anthony Allen, for one, has hardly been a shrinking violet this season. He was born in England to English parents, was educated and brought up in England, speaks with an English accent, and when he retires, it will likely be to England. He has worked dashed hard to cement his place in a superb English club's back-line, but yet somehow his place in England's side could be taken by a New Zealander.

The issue of 'player-poaching' is ubiquitous at the moment, mostly because it is nearly impossible to quantify. Everybody cries foul at New Zealand's Islanders, but Samoa had the largest number of foreign-born players at the last World Cup. Then again, being born in a country is usually enough for citizenship, just as lineage usually is. It's either or, and it's fair enough.

But Flutey has neither birthright nor lineage, and this is where a rugby problem is beginning.

There is a huge psychological appeal to signing a non-native. Foreign talent always seems to offer something extra to home-grown, for reasons of sporting culture, and the added ingredients of worldly experience that can be added to the mix. This is not a principle applicable only to rugby either; think of the way English soccer clubs shamelessly field multi-cultural sides, the frequency of not one single English player starting in the club's colours is growing.

England's rugby union clubs are allowed to field only one non-EU player in a game, but various legal citizenship loopholes have been burrowed through in ferret-like fashion by ambitious coaches and chairmen so as to swell the numbers of Kiwis, Aussies, and South Africans in the teams, and the number of different options available as a result.

French teams have carte blanche to sign whoever they want, but there has been a distinct fade in the Top 14's tribal culture this season, coupled with an alarming fade in quality as the communication wires are crossed in the heat of battle. Somehow, a monolingual Tongan will always struggle to blend in in Bourgoin, and dropping an Afrikaaner into the Basque country is like dropping a boerewors into a marmitako - the tastes are not necessarily incompatible, but are so alien to one another that they are impossible to blend, and eventually you'll get bored of trying.

Well, clubs are clubs, and the owners know best. But when the problem seeps into national level, then we need to have a bit of a think about it.

The three-year residency rule has served its purpose, certainly for rugby's developing countries. Japan, particularly, has benefitted from being able to 'repatriate' a few Kiwis, and Italy would never have been able to develop a home-grown squad as they have now had it not been for a number of Kiwis and South Africans during the earlier part of this decade. Canada and America are also benefitting, and to all those teams' immense credit, are eschewing the virtues of using foreign reinforcements more and more in favour of home-grown players.

But why the top countries seem to feel the need to look at journeymen is beyond me, and it completely undermines the whole ethos of international sport. Gloucester fans think Lesley Vainikolo is great, but even a couple of them have been sceptical about the image of a dreadlocked Tongan on England's wing. The scepticism proved well-founded too - it's not like Vainikolo swept all before him in the white shirt, and it's not like any disappointed fans found any empathy for his performance. How could they? He's not English like them. And lest we forget, he's already played for New Zealand, even if it was a different sport.

And don't you think Tonga would like him? And don't you think, somewhere in his heart, he'd like to play for Tonga? And don't you think England already has a couple of English wingers ready to step up? And don't you think Vainikolo's mercenary nationality is a little against what national sport is all about?

In France, Clermont have unearthed a wing every bit as exciting as Rupeni Caucaunibuca in Napolioni Nalaga, who has so far notched 13 tries in 13 Top 14 matches. He was in France last year as well, and has just turned 22. Soon enough, he will have been there three years. It's not as though France are short of wings, but this chap could soon be an option for Marc Lièvremont. Clearly he's far too good for Fijian club rugby, but does the FFR now try and tempt him to think he's too good to play for home as well as at it?

While the three-year residency rule has done well for some countries, the abuse of it by top-tier nations is doing other developing nations no good at all. Players who ought to be representing developing countries and bringing their global status on are instead being snapped up by the developed ones. As the scouting networks become more effective, so talent can be spotted younger, meaning three years is a mere stepping stone.

The IRB has done some magnificent work over the past couple of years, opening up new professional tournaments around the Pacific rim, over North America and in Europe's more distant corners. Players there are reaping the benefits, as are the national teams as a knock-on effect, and the eyebrows of the world's top clubs have been raised, with the opening of wallets and rustle of bank-notes following on shortly afterwards. Great. We all want to see the world's best on the bigger stages.

But that principle should not cross the border of staying true to one's nationality. Tongans should play for Tonga, Fijians for Fiji, and New Zealanders for New Zealand. And if, like Flutey, they can't crack their own national team: tough. That was the luck of the draw. And if, like England seem to feel, there is not the right player to fill a certain position: tough. That was the luck of that draw too.

Compromising national identity on both sides to soften those two blows - after just three years - is just a little too big a compromise though. The day when national sporting pride becomes a legal and professional commodity is the day when rugby's soul is offered for sale, and it is nigh.

By Richard Anderson