Rough Rugby

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31123, 28 July 1966, Page 16

Rough Rugby

Sir, —“The Press” is inciting a disreputable witch-hunt causing all the “holier than thous” to turn off the “tele" and jump on the band waggon. This storm in a teacup has arisen largely because an amateurish touring forward pack is being bruised, and, especially, beaten. International forwards worthy of the name are match-hard. The Springboks were hard last year. They were not injured; nor was there this feverish outburst. The 1963 All Blacks toured Britain and what were their injuries? Stan Meads had appendix trouble and Horsley had boils. Wellington’s hard but legitimate play against these soft Lions caused about 10 minutes’ ambulance attention; Wellington’s same tactics against Canterbury the following week made no impression. No-one denies it was a rotten game on Saturday, but let’s not lose our heads, to coin a phrase.— Yours, etc., D. A. KERR. July 27, 1966.

Sir, —“For as concerning football playing, I protest unto you it may be called a friendly kind of fight, rather than a play or recreation; a bloody murdering practice, than a fellowly sport or pastime. For doth not everyone lie in wait for his adversary, seeking to overthrow him? So that by this means, sometimes their necks are broken, sometimes their backs, sometime one part thrust out of joint, sometime their noses gush out with blood, sometime thefr eyes start out. But whosoever scapeth away the best goeth not scot-free, but is either sore wounded and bruised, so as he dieth of it, or else scapeth very hardy. And no marvel, for they have sleights to meet one betwixt two, to dash him against the heart with their elbows, to hit him under the short ribs with their gripped fists. With an hundred such murdering devices. And hereof groweth envy, malice, rancour, choler, hatred, displeasure, enmity and what not else.” No, not last Saturday, but a view of football written by one Philip Stubbs in 1583.—Yours, etc., NOTHING NEW. July 27, 1966.

Sir, —Those two splendid articles on rough Rugby, one, as usual, by R. T. Brittenden, the other by “The Times” reporter with the Lions, seem to cover pretty well all that can be said about this sorry business. Still, there is one aspect of the matter that might, perhaps, receive more consideration. One believes that, with certain notorious exceptions (no names, no packdrill) Rugby, as played every Saturday in England by scores of club teams, is pretty clean, largely because the participants are out to enjoy the game more than anything else. No doubt a more dedicated approach to the game, with an intense competitive urge instilled among players of tender years, would produce a higher level of performance, perhaps even an occasional humiliation of the redoubtable All Blacks; but something worth while, perhaps something vital to the best interests of the game, might be sacrified in the pro-cess.-—Yours, etc., ILAM. July 27, 1966.

Sir,—Could we have a little more skill in our Rugby? A little more sparkle in our ball-handling, and perhaps *

just a teeny, weeny bit of playfulness in our “game?”— Yours, etc., SPORT. July 26, 1966.