Rugby Union: The enemy is within for Union: Chris Rea believes that old values still hold true for British rugby

IN THE same week as one of rugby union's specialist magazines gave space to the South African megalomaniac Dr Louis Luyt, the other devoted its entire editorial to an excerpt from Wavell Wakefield's definitive work, The Spirit of Rugger, published almost 70 years ago. Although a number of the sentiments expressed have been overtaken by what we mistakenly believe is progress, most have stood the test of time.

Likewise, listening to Sir Tasker Watkins, the president of the Welsh Rugby Union, speaking after last week's international in Bucharest, there was the same sense of enduring virtue. His impeccable use of English, his dignified demeanour and his unfailing courtesy might raise a snigger or two from the cerebrally challenged and socially ungilded. But the possessor of an outstanding intellect is also, as the holder of the Victoria Cross, a man of extraordinary valour. No one sneers at that.

Rugby union, by holding fast to the old, and nowadays often derided, values, has so much of which it can be justly proud. Its detractors, and principally those from rugby league, are consumed not so much by the hypocrisy and double standards rife within the amateur game, and which pollute most other sports, but by envy. Rugby union has almost everything that rugby league covets: a genuinely global following, mass media coverage and money. Without even trying, it basks in the success which the professional game craves but which, despite its attempts at self-promotion, it has never achieved.

The two advantages it enjoys over rugby union, and they should not be underestimated, are an ability to present a united front and a publicity machine in permanent overdrive. In the immediate aftermath of the Ray Mordt affair, every famous son from Barnsley to Bootle, those who profess to love sport but loathe rugby union for the privilege and position they believe it bestows, mounted their high horses and galloped into action. The air waves crackled with moral indignation. But let us be clear about one thing. This is not about Ray Mordt, amateurism or that preposterous waste of time and public money, the Sports (Discrimination) Bill. It is about survival.

If it is a fight to the death between the codes, as league clearly believes it to be, consider what would happen if the positions were reversed and it was rugby league which was the snooty aristocrat with the rich inheritance. Would rugby league throw open the doors of the mansion house and invite the poor relations to join the feast? Of course not. So why should rugby union extend the hand of friendship to those who are trying so hard to bite it?

Rugby union, and the course it is taking, constitutes a serious threat to the existence of the league game, not as a sport, but as a main-line attraction for television, sponsors and the paying public. The views expressed last week by Alf Davies, the Chief Executive of Leeds, that rugby league must be prepared to 'change or die', are shared by many. And Vernon Pugh was perfectly correct when he described league as being 'essentially parasitic' in that it requires the oxygen of publicity it gets from luring a union star to its ranks. Scott Quinnell is the latest acquisition. His departure is another massive blow to Wales, and will bring renewed calls for union to start competing financially with the rival code, but even when union finally severs its fragile links with amateurism, it will never embark on the potentially ruinous path to full professionalism. As an amateur, Quinnell was at liberty to make his choice.

The biggest danger to rugby union comes not from league but from within its own ranks. It was a game created and designed for those who wished to play it, not for the delectation of those who wanted to watch it. If spectators were prepared to pay to watch a group of young men indulge in their recreational pastime, well and good, but it was on the players', not the spectators', terms. No longer is that strictly the case. The game has sold itself on the grand scale and the cost to the players has been astronomical. For the players, the responsibility to entertain remains secondary to the duty to win, but in this hugely competitive market place, there is an increasing demand for value for money. A season of televised matches such as the ones last weekend at Orrell and in Bucharest would soon have the media moguls searching for alternatives.

The problem for union is that in this, as on the vexed question of amateurism, there is no common policy, just bitter discord not only between northern and southern hemispheres but between north and south Britain where the automatic response to an English yes is a Scottish no, and vice versa.

Contrary to the belief of so many of the game's ill-informed critics, these are facts recognised and understood by the administrative hierarchy, who nevertheless continue to trip over their own big feet on all the most important issues facing the game. What they need above all else is a well-organised, efficiently run public relations department to help them through the perils and the pitfalls which lie ahead. Not since the great schism a century ago has the game been in greater need of men of wisdom, vision and courage. In the likes of Sir Tasker Watkins, it has such men. It is time for them to step forward into the front line, and, with the ever-increasing shadow of Louis Luyt falling over the game, it is time we listened to them.

(Photograph omitted)