So, how was the Bundesliga for you? For sure, not all rugby supporters are also football fans, much less of the German top flight, but with rugby in mind, watching Borussia Dortmund beat Schalke 4-0 in a derby devoid of atmosphere there were actually a few potential positives.
Among these are the most basic of them all, namely that the tentative teething steps taken by professional team sports to resume activities behind closed doors will, in this TV-dictated age, make all sports organisations actually realise the importance of actual real live fans. What’s more, with each passing week of crowd-less sport, that appreciation will become more acute.
Granted, if the Aviva Stadium is to become a 'neutral' venue for behind-closed-doors interpros as the first step in rugby's return in Ireland, then games there will feel more cavernous than would be the case in any of the other established rugby venues – Thomond Park, the RDS, the Sportsground or the Kingspan Stadium.
Bear pits no more, and rugby matches are, by their very nature, gladiatorial affairs. Playing them behind closed doors is bound to have a profound effect.
Judging by last weekend’s example in the Bundesliga, particularly after such a long absence, players will struggle to generate the same level of intensity without packed stadia. A la last weekend, all the more so after such a prolonged ‘off-season’, it is sure to give rugby matches a feel of pre-season friendlies.
As an aside, time was when no team on the planet has ever been so capable of waking the home crowd, and by extension themselves, by provoking a bout of fisticuffs, than Munster at Thomond Park. Past masters at it. But what's the point if there's no crowd to awaken?
It will also have a real effect on how coaches go about their business, for they are notoriously secretive, and the noise generated by large crowds facilitates this.
The advent of referee microphones has already provided audible evidence of some of the on-field 'exchanges' that take place on a rugby field
Will they still seek to communicate with others on the sidelines through ear pieces? Will coaches continue to watch games from high up in glassed cages? Or, given that the absence of crowds would permit them to relay their messages directly from the touchline, might they be tempted to emulate their footballing counterparts by being closer to the action, ala Guy Noves in his Toulouse pomp?
Granted, rugby lends itself better to an aerial viewpoint than football, but sitting in glass boxes would seem particularly odd if there was no-one else in the stands.
Most intriguingly of all, perhaps, when it comes to rugby’s on-field secrecy, is how the sport adapts to lineout calling. These calls are from highly detailed systems akin to Morse codes, but if they are called out just before the hooker’s throw as is the norm then in no time they’ll be all over social media, never mind picked up by opponents.
Bad language
The advent of referee microphones has, in any case, already provided audible evidence of some of the on-field ‘exchanges’ that take place on a rugby field, even if the ‘mics’ can be turned down by studio producers.
Clearly though, in the absence of crowds, pitchside microphones would pick up on-field utterances quite clearly and, being role models for kids, players would have to tone down some of the bad language.
Of course, like any sport, there’s always been bad language but on-field behaviour in rugby has changed more notably in recent years than arguably ever before. The advent of the TMO and video replays has, almost inevitably, prompted players to question decisions and, in the process, undermined the authority of referees, if only because players implore referees to “take a look” and the more vehemently they plead, the more likely referees are to do so.
The most distasteful aspect of all has been the increased ‘animation’ of players and the accompanied goading of opponents. Whoever were the originators of this trashy trend, coaches have increasingly encouraged players to be more animated on-field, whether it’s attempting to distract an opposition’s lineout, celebrating an opponent’s mistake/turnover/penalty or whatever, never mind an actual try.
It’s a means of imposing a team’s ‘personality’ over the other, be it as a psychological ploy or to impress the officials. It’s a supposed sign of strength. Teams strive to be the louder of the two. Being the quieter ones is seen as a sign of weakness.
Worse still is when these grossly over-the-top celebrations cross over into sledging or goading the opposition – as they are in part meant to do of course
Aware that the All Blacks were especially vocal, Warren Gatland feely admitted that he wanted his Lions players to be more animated in the Lions series of three summers ago.
In any event, so it is that we have the increasingly commonplace sight of wingers rushing in from the touchline to join in the collective backslapping of an openside flanker who has just won a turnover penalty; or likewise of a prop still pulling his jersey down over his mid-riff after winning a scrum penalty.
In each instance they were merely doing their bloody job!
Worse still is when these grossly over-the-top celebrations cross over into sledging or goading the opposition – as they are in part meant to do of course.
Shrinking violets
None of this is entirely new, and some Irish players are no shrinking violets. However, going purely on anecdotal evidence from Irish players who've played club rugby across the water, this on-field animation does seem to come particularly easy to some English players. Not the majority. Take Jonny Wilkinson, for example, who was assuredly too focused and polite to bother.
But certainly the current English team, under Eddie Jones, and all the more so with their lippy Saracens core, are clearly a very mouthy crew who revel in provoking opponents, which is all the harder to tally given Mark McCall's demeanour as player and coach.
Referees, and TMOs, could do so much more to stamp it out. If a player goads an opponent who has been held up over the line by patting his head or pushing his nose into the ground, while uttering a few choice words in his shell-like, then penalise him. Simple as.
For, while it's not new, the in-your-face celebrations do seem to have been taken to a new level. And, as compelling as Netflix basketball docu-film The Last Dance is, all this contrived, over-the-top, insulting in-your-face animation is, well, so American.
So if a spell of crowd-less games becalms some of this excessive behaviour then all the better.
gthornley@irishtimes.com
