Delme Parfitt: Segregation at the Rugby World Cup? British and Irish Lions ...

Saturday July 6 was no ordinary day, from downtown Sydney to the city’s world famous Circular Quay.

Everywhere you looked hordes of red-clad British and Irish Lions supporters milled around in the gorgeous 18 degree warmth of a pleasant Australian winter afternoon.

Most of them were either drunk, or on their way there, and as the clock ticked towards a third and decisive Test against the Wallabies that offered what would be just a second series win in the professional era for the side they were supporting, the tension rose.

Australian fans were out in force as well, just as desperate to see their boys take an opportunity that wouldn’t come around again for another 12 years.

Banter flowed, tongue-in-cheek songs taking the mickey out of one another’s teams were exchanged.

Rivalry? It was palpable, flowing from every bar, every beer balcony, every umbrella-speckled plaza.

Trouble? Not a hint. Not a mote. Not a scintilla.

By the time the ground was occupied, by the time the teams were walking out to face their destiny, the out-of-town ANZ Stadium resembled a jar of pear-drops. It was a rash of red and yellow, rather than two distinct blocks.

Segregation? What would have been the point? About as niggly as it got between the Brits and Irish, and their Aussie hosts, was when visiting supporters began a rendition of “you’re only wearing yellow ’cos it’s free” (to the tune of She’ll Be Coming Down The Mountain…) in response to the gratis paraphernalia given to home fans to try and combat the Lions’ famous ‘sea of red’ following.

The reaction to the eventual crushing 41-16 win Warren Gatland’s side engineered? Grudging praise from dejected locals and sheer unbridled joy among those who had travelled 12,000 miles to see it. But no goading, no taunting, no posturing, no gesticulating. No fighting.

Instead it was back to town for the reds and the yellows, back to drink in the same pubs, to sing the same songs – Waltizing Matilda one minute, Land Of My Fathers or Fields Of Athenry the next.

Sure, the banter continued but there was no hostility, no disrespect, no pointed arms. Just an overriding sense of privilege at being involved in a genuine “I was there” rugby moment.

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And all this from passionate largely male-dominated gangs who had spent much of the day consuming alcohol in the sun.

There will be some who dismiss the above images as rose-tinted romantic nonsense. It really isn’t, because I saw it. I felt it. And so would anyone else who was either in Sydney that day or who has tasted any of the great European rugby nerve-centres… Cardiff, Dublin, Edinburgh, Paris.

It is a snapshot of behaviour that renders the idea of rugby crowd segregation – something the IRB are reported this week to have considered – a complete nonsense.

Denials it was ever a realistic proposition have followed. Not a surprise because never could there have been a more pointless and destructive intiative, never could there have been more of an affront to the principles of camaraderie and terrace tolerance which have always underpinned the sport.

It was suggested World Cup organisers saw segregation as a means to inject a greater edge into the atmosphere at matches, but the vibe at rugby internationals – or domestic encounters for that matter – has never relied on penning two sets of fans into distinct areas of the ground.

Unlike football, it is not tribal. Derogatory chants are never exchanged, support perculates from a multitude of intertwined pockets. Half a row can jump for joy in the knowledge that the other half holding heads in despairing hands aren’t going to attempt to stop them with violence.

Rugby administrators should savour this because such harmony is the most powerful marketing tool the sport has. It makes creating synthetic atmosphere through segregation – or the regular pumping of toe-curling music over stadium tannoys, which is on the increase – utterly futile.

It would be easy in this debate to lurch into pompous condemnation of football crowds as a reflection of all that is base in society, of everything that the rugby equivalent should aspire not to be.

To @rugbyworldcup – segregating fans; have you any idea of the immediate and wider consequences of this idiotic proposal?

— Brian Moore (@brianmoore666) April 28, 2014

 

Some would advocate precisely such a stance, and the requirement for mass police operations to keep apart opposing fans, the ever-present risk of disorder and the hatred and lack of respect between rival fans that in some instances knows no bounds, is an undeniable stain on football. Yet the sport has made huge strides in the last two decades, and in the modern era has always been tribal in a way rugby has not.

Segregation, rightly or wrongly, is woven into football’s very fabric. In fact the edgy antagonism is very much part of the appeal for many decent law-abiding citizens who wouldn’t be anywhere else come 3pm on a Saturday.

The package in rugby has always been more benign. The fervour still finds a way to emerge, but it comes in a different form and powerbrokers will meddle with it at their peril.

You only segregate if you have to. Rugby’s ability to mix passion and partisanship with mutual respect and comradeship means it doesn’t – and never should.

Delme Parfitt: Segregation at the Rugby World Cup? British and Irish Lions ...