RWC Final 2015: What has sexuality got to do with it? Nigel Owens is the best referee around

One day we will look back, aghast at the skewed perspective and the strange desire to categorise by sexuality rather than ability. Judgements will be reached on sporting merit, the authenticity of personal values rather than the superficiality of social conditioning.

Nigel Owens deserved the honour of controlling the Rugby World Cup final, since he is the best referee in any of our major sports. The antithesis of a rulebook automaton, he is authoritative without being condescending and balances sharp comment with quick humour.

His status as an archetypal local hero was symbolised by the Welsh flag stitched into the new boots he wore for the occasion. Mynydd Cerrig, the Camarthenshire village in which he grew up, was en fête; residents gathered in its working men’s club to make the match a communal experience.

Owens happens to be gay. It should be an irrelevance, and indeed it is a source of indifference to unseen, unheard millions, but pockets of prurience and ignorance still scar the landscape.

I suspect I was not the only one to feel queasy, when booming front-page headlines greeted John Fashanu’s decision to revisit the 25-year-old suicide of his brother Justin, a gentle, tortured soul who was deemed to have shamed his family because of his sexuality.

We must accept Fashanu’s penitence for past prejudice as a welcome sign of humanity and empathy, but the signal it sent, since it was linked directly to rumours prominent footballers are ready to come out as gay, was ominous.

A grotesque guessing game is underway, despite the fact the vast majority will eventually learn of their identity, shrug, and quietly congratulate them for their moral courage. Names are floated, motives questioned, in a cosy cocoon of privacy. Luke Shaw, the Manchester United and England defender, has seen fit to use social media to deny he is involved.

Rugby, despite its archaic culture of dirty pints, muddied machismo and latent violence, can give football many lessons in the power of positivity and the advantages of instinctive acceptance.

As befits someone who announced his sexuality by literally coming out of a wooden closet on a Welsh-language TV show, Owens has a light touch. A video clip of him admonishing Harlequins hooker Dave Ward for a crooked line-out throw – “I’m straighter than that one”– has gone viral.

He has emerged from “a very, very dark place”, in which he survived a suicide attempt, bulimia and addiction to steroids. His rationalisation of such exposure – “everybody knows these personal things, but it is OK, really, because it’s helping people” – is instructive.

To declare an interest, I have been immeasurably enriched by the privilege of collaborating in the memoir of former Wales and Lions captain Gareth Thomas, another national treasure with a powerful back story.

The response to him is astonishing, and cannot be explained by his popularity as a pundit, or by enduring respect for his achievements as a player. Strangers share their deepest secrets, seeking solace through his prominence as a gay man who has had the strength to admit his weaknesses.

To hold a fellow human being, as she weepily admits disappointing her late mother because of her decision to change gender, is to understand the intimacy of the issue. To hear a father confess to abandoning his suicide attempt because of a mental image of his grieving children confirms the complexity of so many lives.

Sport, or specifically the values it is supposed to represent, is no more than a reference point, but it remains significant because of the platform it provides.

Owens will doubtlessly feature prominently in this newspaper’s Rainbow List, annual confirmation of the impact of the LGBT community. It may be too much to hope for, but it would give overdue meaning to the BBC’s tired old bauble if he were named Sports Personality of the Year.

He is a man for all seasons, who deserves recognition for the right reasons.

Well, here we are again. Another World Cup is over, and another anguished inquest is underway. For Rustenburg 2010, and Rio 2014, read RFU 2015.

Hopes have been raised and dashed with grim precision. Scapegoats have been identified, even though self-serving bureaucrats overseeing the inevitable review would prefer obfuscation to action.

Embarrassment, generated by the inability of England’s rugby union players to turn up at their own tournament, has deepened since their elimination, so that it cannot be excused.

Beyond their inadequacy, the World Cup has been a restorative event, well organised despite occasional inconveniences created by the feather-bedded failures who run our transport system.

European nations, for so long allowed to cling to the comfort blanket of the hallowed traditions of the Six Nations Championship, have been rumbled and humbled.

The incoherence of England’s approach is personified by Sam Burgess, who seems set to return to Australia and rugby league as soon as suitable contractual compensation can be agreed.

He is returning to a code without a viable international dimension, despite league’s attempt to hang on to union’s coat tails by staging three England games against New Zealand, one in the Olympic Stadium on Saturday.

History will regard him as a misfit, purchased on a whim and an unsustainable prayer.

Massimo Cellino agrees to sell Leeds United to their supporters, though his dismal track record suggests the devil will be in the details. Owen Oyston rejects an offer from Blackpool fans to buy the club, insultingly suggesting it would “go to the wall” under their control.

Any respectable industry would be intolerant of such men and the damage they inflict on community assets. The suspicion persists they will be permitted to linger, for selfish reasons, until the price is right.