Rugby Is a Better Game (1952)

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LIKE many American institutions, the game of football was acquired from England. Rugby football, as it is played throughout the British Commonwealth, Ireland, and France, contains most of the ingredients out of which the American game has been developed—such as running with the ball, passing, kicking, and tackling — but in the American game these ingredients have been complicated, padded, and shot through with specialized operations. The result has been that the more salutary technique and the better spirit of Rugby football have been lost.

Both Rugby and American football have large followings, and both games may be looked upon as good mirrors of the attitude toward sport of the people concerned. From this point of view it is especially interesting to notice the pronounced difference of emphasis in the American and the Rugby football scene. In America there is a strong emphasis upon spectacle, and upon watching rather than playing the game. In Rugby football the emphasis is exactly the opposite. Part of the reason for this difference can be traced directly to the nature of the games themselves. American football is violent, expensive, and time-consuming; and the number of people who are able to play under these conditions is extremely limited. Rugby, on the other hand, is more rough than violent, and the expenditure of time and money is small. Consequently, a large proportion of the interested people are able to play, and do play, rather than watch the game. Indicative of this difference in emphasis is the small varsity stadium at Oxford University, a school which compares, in terms of football reputation, with Notre Dame or Michigan; there are 2000 seats at the Oxford field, with standing-room accommodations for an additional 12,000.

Technically speaking, the essential difference between American football and Rugby is that the American game is more complex. A possible defense of this complexity might be that it provides the player with a greater variety of activity than is possible in a simpler game. But there is so much variety in the American game that the individual player has had to specialize, and this has narrowed rather than broadened his scope. Rugby does not have a forward pass or prearranged plays, but a quick examination of Rugby’s technical characteristics will show that there is not only just as much opportunity for team play as there is in American football, but a greater variety of activity for each player.

In American football more than half of the team either never touch the ball or handle it but rarely. In fact there are four men on the team who do virtually nothing but charge head-on into the men in front of them. In Rugby, everyone has a chance to handle the ball. There are fifteen men on a side, roughly divided into the backfield and the forwards. The forwards put the ball in play by first packing themselves into a three-deep phalanx, the “scrum,” and then beginning to shove, shoulder to shoulder, against a similarly organized group of opposing forwards. The force is all in shoving, with none of the heavy premeditated blows and flying elbows which are part of American line play. While the scrums strain against each other, like two huge bugs, the ball is thrust between them. The more vigorous shover soon gains control, and “heels” the ball to the back of the scrum. The ball may then be thrown to the baekfield which is strung out across the field, ready to begin a series of forward runs, lateral passes, and cross kicks — or it may be kept in a “loose" scrum and carried down the field through a combination of running, passing, and kicking.

It is not uncommon in Rugby for an ordinary forward lo score a goal, a feat which is impossible for most of the American forwards, except through a freak or accident. Kicks may go in any direction, and usually the player kicks the ball while running at full speed. The agility required for this extraordinary feat is made possible by the lightness of the Rugby uniform. Because of the downfield blocking and mass tackling which are peculiar to American football, crash helmets and a cumbersome assortment of pads and bracing appliances are essential parts of the uniform. This extra weight is not necessary in Rugby. The uniform, consisting of a jersey, shorts (with pockets), stockings, and cleated shoes, causes less fatigue than the American armor and allows greater maneuverability and speed.

Playing the American game requires a great deal of time. The travelings to and from the huddle, the frequent penalties, the substitutions, and the times out, all produce a situation in which a game having only sixty minutes of actual playing time often requires two and a half hours for completion. Rugby is played in two thirty-five-minute halves, with a five-minute interval between; and although each of these minutes is packed with more action than in American football, the average game is completed in about ninety minutes. There are no substitutions, and a time out occurs only when a player is shaken up. If a man is put out of commission during the game, which does not often happen, his team simply plays without him. During the traditional England-Wales game this year, one of Wales’s best backs twisted his ankle in the opening minutes of play. Nevertheless, since the large number of men on a Rugby team lessens the seriousness of losing a player, Wales, playing the rest of the game with only fourteen men, went on to win.

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GAMES must be judged not only on the basis of technique but also on the merits of the organization and customs which are part of them. In this area Rugby has developed a great fullness and variety.

The complexity of the American game has prevented its copying one of the most important characteristics of the Rugby scene: the establishment of independent amateur football clubs and the inclusion of university teams as well as other independent clubs on their schedules. Rugby clubs of this type, such as the suburban London team called Richmond, for which I played, are made up mostly of young men of various occupations who live within a half-hour train ride from the field. They have all played Rugby in school, and the presence of such independent clubs allows them to continue playing. This practice of continuing to play football after leaving school, and the healthy sense of active participation which goes with it, are unknown in American amateur football. The American pattern allows the player, while in school, to come in contact only with other school teams — an extremely narrow segment of the social whole and when the player graduates, at the height of the skill which it has taken him years to develop, he suddenly finds that he no longer has a team to play on. The Rugby pattern, on the other hand, allows a variety of social contact while the players are in school, with teams like Oxford scheduling independent clubs such as the London Scottish, Richmond. United Hospital, and the London Metropolitan Police.

The individual player may continue to compete for as long is he likes— or, as sometimes happens, for as long as his wife will allow. When I evidenced surprise at finding that a prominent London sculptor, aged forty-eight, played on one of Richmond’s reserve teams— the same team upon which his son played— I was told by a near-by player that such a thing was uncommon, to be sure, but by no means unique. My informant’s father, it seemed, had continued to play Rugby until “Mother” put her foot down; “the old boy" then discontinued play in his fifty-second year.

Because of the varied nature of the opposing clubs on a given Rugby team’s schedule, it is not feasible to form leagues or conferences such as those of which most American teams are members. Each Rugby team has a well-organized schedule, of course, but the whole emphasis is upon independence. The result is that there is no necessity to think in terms of league championships, and each game may be taken as an independent effort. In the American scheme the individual game, like the individual player, tends to lose its identity in the long struggle to acquire the winning record and the league championship; and with both of these drives in action, there is a strong tendency toward excessive grimness.

Rugby players occasionally get grim also, but there is a difference. Each Rugby team has at least one traditional rival, and this is always the big game of the year. Sometimes an undue amount of tension surrounds such games. Probably the feeling generated among the participants in this year’s Oxford—Cambridge game was as strong as that in any American title-bound team; indeed, after the game the players departed from their usual custom, and instead of sitting down to dinner together at a common table, they sat at separate tables. To anyone who appreciates the gesture involved when two famous rivals dine after the contest at a common table, such a separation is disappointing. Even so, the fault lay more with human nature than with the system, and at worst such an atmosphere surrounds only one game on the schedule in Rugby. It cannot, as it often does in America, pervade the entire season.

In common with American football, Rugby provides for the recognition of particularly skilled players, and the England team roughly corresponds to the various All-American teams. But the distinguishing characteristic of the England team is that it is picked as a single unit for the specific purpose of playing against a definite schedule of similarly picked teams representing Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and France. The American star player gets one or two chances to play on an all-star team of some kind, but these games are always unsatisfactory to watch and to play in. All-star teams must be hastily organized; yet the complexity of the American game cannot be decreased for the occasion. Under these circumstances a considerable amount of disorganization is inevitable, despite the fact that the thirty or forty chosen players spend at least two weeks practicing for the single game. There are just as many bench-warming reserves in an all-star game as there are in ordinary competition, but since each of these men is a star, and since for most of them it is their last game of amateur football, each man must be shoved into the game at some point, if only for a few seconds. This adds to the confusion. Generally speaking, the odds are against the American player’s giving his best performance in an all-star game.

This is not the case in Rugby. In fact, Rugby football is played at its very best in an all-star game. The majority of the star players are selected from the independent clubs, where they have acquired more skill and experience than is possible for the university player; and if the star player continues to be selected for the team, he can play five of such games each year, for as many years as he is able to maintain the pace. Furthermore, the all-star team does not have to be gathered and organized before each game; so players can compete at this level with no more time spent in preparation than is given to ordinary play.

To supply the heavy demands upon manpower, in American football two and often three teams of reserves must be kept in readiness on the bench. Some of these men are used effectively at times during the game, and the specialists who are sent in for one or two plays often score points; still, only eleven men can play at one time, and the playing experience of the reserves is not satisfactory for the individual player.

In Rugby football, the practice of bench-warming is unknown. A given club may run three to five teams, but each of these has a complete and independent schedule. Often the second and third teams meet the corresponding groups from the club against which the first team is playing; but this happens only part of the time. On the Saturday that the Richmond first team met Cambridge University, the Richmond second was at the north end of London playing the Old Westcliffians, and the third team was on the south side playing the Chartered Bank of India. If a member of any of these teams is unable to play, his place is filled before the game; so on Saturday each man can pack his kit with the knowledge that he will play a full game.

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MANY of the arguments in Rugby’s favor can best be stated by showing how the game has remained free from certain encumbering additions which have become part of American football. One of these additions is the football coach. There are no coaches in Rugby. If there were, it is probable that Rugby would soon begin to resemble American football; for the coach, like the player, has a natural desire to excel. The player, however, is able to excel simply through individual performance, while the coach’s excellence is judged upon the performance of his team. Left to itself, the average team will have its ups and downs; but the temptation is always strong in a professional coach to produce the necessary team excellence by developing the game as well as the individual. When this begins to happen on a large scale, the complexity of the game and the importance of the coaches are bound to increase.

Look for a moment at the most famous coaches in the history of American football. Most of them have contributed to the increase in the game’s complexity. One of them introduced the forward pass — a spectacular and exciting operation, but one which makes a star of two or three players and blocking dummies of the rest. Another coach developed the T formation, which makes everything happen quickly but is very confusing to everyone on the field. Finally, one coach brought in the last straw: the two-platoon system — which is unfair to the opponents who cannot muster a double team, and which obliges a university’s first team to play only half a game. All these things have helped to increase the importance of the professional football coach. In American amateur football the prestige of the football coach is now so high that in many cases the size of his pay check is equaled only by that of the president of the university. This is a misplacement of values which does not occur in Rugby.

Some of the more energetic Rugby teams invite an old graduate to watch a midweek practice and to offer suggestions; but this is as far as it goes. Of course a certain amount of leadership is needed in any team game, but in Rugby most of this devolves upon the team captain, who occupies essentially the same position as the professional coach in American football. It is the Rugby captain’s sole responsibility to organize and lead his team’s practice, and even to “tick off" his men occasionally when their attention wanders. In the universities, where blues or their equivalent are awarded, it is the captain who presides over the committee of players which selects the members of the first team and determines who shall receive the school’s colors.

The main difference between the Rugby captain and the American coach is that the Rugby captain does not have to make his living at coaching; he does not fear to lose his job, he does not have time to “build up” a powerful team, and his mind is not narrowed by constant preoccupation with football. Because of this the Rugby captain is at times a more responsible person than the American coach. When the captain of the ‘51 Oxford team told me that most of his discussion of strategy took place during the few minutes immediately preceding the game, I asked him if he was expected to give one of the pep talks which are common in American locker rooms; and he said, “It’s been done by some chaps, but I always found that sort of thing frightfully difficult; and we seemed to get on without it.”

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RUGBY football is a rough-and-tumble game without much precision, but it is more civilized than American football. This is so because there are more rules in Rugby than just those pertaining to actual play upon the field. These are the little customs which have arisen from the basic assumption that the home team in Rugby is a host and the visiting team a guest. In American football, convivial sentiments have so decreased that the relationship between opposing teams is often that of attacker and defender rather than of guest and host. A small and yet meaningful detail in Rugby is the manner in which the dispensing of orange slices is handled. During the five-minute period at half-time both teams remain on the field, and it is always an official from the host team who trots out with a plateful of orange slices for the visitors. It is a small thing but it does not happen in American football, where the invading team brings its own supplies.

An exchange of three cheers at the end of the game almost never occurs at an American football game, especially among the bigger teams; but in Rugby it is the custom — with first the host team and then the visitors pumping their arms up and down and giving three hip, hip, hurrah’s. At the end of my first game of Rugby I was pleased to hear the exchange of cheers, but I was a little surprised when immediately afterward the host team, which we had just defeated, rushed off toward the clubhouse. This was another custom: they formed a double line leading up to the door, and applauded us as we passed through to the locker room.

In Rugby it is considered necessary that the host team do more than merely provide a field and a game for the visitors; and adjoining each Rugby field there is a clubhouse in which the visiting team is entertained after the game. These buildings may vary from the moss-covered country estate which has been taken over by the Old Merchant Tailors team to the proper clubhouses, such as the one at Richmond, which have been built especially for the use of Rugby teams. Whatever their shape, these buildings invariably include the three essential components of the Rugby clubhouse: an immense communal bath, a dining room where tea is served, and a bar.

When the game on the field is ended, the Rugby afternoon is only half over; and since it is assumed that Rugby is a method of relaxing during leisure time, no one is in a hurry to get away. When the players return to the locker room they always find waiting for them the customary pint of shandy, a mixture of beer and ginger ale, and after downing one of these they move to the baths. All Rugby clubs use communal baths, an idea which was introduced by the Romans and which is still considered a better manner of bathing after a game of football than standing under the more efficient but less comfortable shower. The baths are always big enough to hold both teams at once easily, and the player, after lounging for a time in hot water up to his neck, and possibly discussing the game with a near-by opponent, rises, dresses, and proceeds to the dining room, where the host team provides an ample supply of tea and cakes. In America football customs vary with different teams, but there is nothing to compare with the Rugby custom of sitting down immediately after bathing to have sandwiches and conversation with the other team.

In American football there is still a taboo against drinking beer during the season. The taboo is ignored by most of the players, but its presence is partly responsible for preventing American players from enjoying the clubhouse pint, which is as much a part of Rugby as the football itself. The proceedings in the bar may continue into the night if the mood is propitious, and there may be an excursion to a favorite pub; but the usual thing is for the players to spend an hour or two in the bar and then board a train and go home to supper.

The general mood which most distinguishes the Rugby scene from American football is that of temperance; and this temperate mood is made possible to a considerable extent by the simplicity of the game. The intemperance which is associated with American football may have a number of causes, but frustration is a prominent one. The American game will not allow many able-bodied and interested people even to join a team: it will not allow many of the members of a team to play a full game; and of those actually playing, only a few can engage in the full range of activity. These are serious weaknesses in the American game, and anyone interested in getting rid of them ought to observe how Rugby football is played in England.

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