Rugby Union: Lack of rationality ruining the spectacle of rugby

TEN DAYS ago we had the spectacle of all four nations of the British Isles - or, as some now absurdly call them, the British and Irish Isles - playing international rugby in west London within three or four miles of one another.

Some fixture lists had announced beforehand that the Wales v Ireland fixture would be played at Wembley a week ago on Sunday, as was Wales v France last season. I had also thought that an attempt was to be made throughout the Five Nations' Championship to stagger matches, playing one on the Saturday, the other on the Sunday.

What happened to this fairly sensible proposal I do not know. Instead, on Saturday we are to have France v Wales in Paris starting at 2pm, and Ireland v England in Dublin starting at 4pm.

Last season France v England in Paris was shown only on Sky television. But the Irish rugby authorities are evidently less susceptible than the French to Rupert Murdoch's wiles, or more likely, Rupert Murdoch's money. Both matches will therefore be shown on BBC.

Though this may sound ungrateful, it is too much of a good thing: like eating an entire packet of chocolate biscuits, or spending a whole day at the Middlesex Sevens.

I have always believed that the normal attention span for most spectacles or entertainments is about an hour and a half. This is why plays are mostly too long, operas much too long and rugby or football matches about right. After 80 minutes or so of a rugby Test I want to put my feet up for half an hour and think about what I have seen without being confronted by the prospect of another Test match.

In a rational world, the Five (soon to be Six) Nations would be played on successive Saturdays and end sometime in April. That is why, earlier, I described the proposal for staggered matches as only fairly sensible. But when did the organisation of rugby football ever have anything to do with rationality? Both the Rugby Football Union and the Welsh Rugby Union, in different ways, contrive to make the Football Association look like Winston Churchill's war cabinet.

But for the stubbornness of the WRU, there could have been five Welsh clubs playing in the Allied Dunbar Premiership before long. Not enough, said the WRU. In fact, the English were being unwontedly generous. On current form only four clubs are up to standard: Cardiff, Swansea, Llanelli and Pontypridd.

There remains, however, a certain puzzle. Historically, Welsh rugby was based on the domination of the first three of these clubs. Newport were originally linked with them as a fourth. But the fortunes of the Monmouthshire club steadily declined. Cardiff and the two West Wales clubs were joined by one other: Bridgend in the 1960s, Pontypool in the 1970s, Neath in the 1980s and Pontypridd in the 1990s.

In other words, Welsh rugby was always based on a small number of clubs forever playing one another, sometimes four times a season.

The Anglo-Welsh fixtures were popular with English fans and Welsh exiles alike. But in the new confinement of the Welsh clubs behind Offa's Dyke, a great mythology has grown up around those matches. The big Welsh clubs, at any rate, appeared to regard them less as serious business than as a branch of the light entertainment industry.

When Llanelli played Harlequins at Twickenham in September (for in those days the Quins would play their pre-Christmas matches at HQ rather than at The Stoop) several members of the visiting side usually seemed to have been picked up by the bus in Hendy to make up the numbers.

No, the change is that, with professionalism and the Premiership, the standard of English club rugby has become unrecognisable - even though it has been raised more by imported players than by the home-grown variety. It may be significant that, in the two internationals nine days ago, Ireland had nine players from the Premiership, Scotland seven and Wales only three.

Unusually, by the way, I found myself paying for my ticket for the England v Scotland match. A friend who lives near Twickenham had entered a raffle organised by the RFU in an attempt to buy off local residents for the inconvenience caused to them by international matches. He won a prize and was supplied with two tickets. He still had to pay for them, however - pounds 32 each - and I duly reimbursed him for one.

A few months previously I had paid half that, to hear Alfred Brendel play Mozart and Schubert for slightly longer than the duration of a rugby match. Listening to Brendel playing the piano was more enjoyable and better value than watching England playing rugby.