"The Art of Rugby"

[A slightly cropped version of the following article was published in last month's (May) edition of "Inside Sport" magazine under the title, "Ballymore Blues".]

As a young boy in the early nineties, my father purchased five year season tickets in the new “Eastern Stand” at Queensland’s home of rugby, Ballymore. They were great seats. Positioned on halfway and six rows from the front, they remained proximate enough to experience the bruising intimacy and pulsating elegance of the contest, whilst having enough elevation to scan the entirety of the pitch and absorb the unfolding spectacle of the eighty minute rhapsody.

Curiously, one indelible image left with me from the many memorable outings to those seats, was the catchphrase of a newspaper advertisement emblazoned across the awning of the “McLean Stand”, directly opposite. The words bludgeoned the panorama in red font and yet, quite apart from representing an advertising gimmick, for me, seemed to articulate the ethos, essence and the thrill of the game I loved and the sensation of watching rugby at Ballymore, during those years. It eloquently proclaimed, “The art of rugby is reading the play.”

The advertisement has long since been painted over and the slogan dropped. Indeed, in the year 2009, it seems the words “art” and “rugby” are not used in exchanges with perhaps the same verve or frequency as they were in days gone by. One wonders whether, in this day and age, “art” still has any place in rugby? Some may well ask whether it ever had a place. But given the resonance of those simple words in my own sentiments, I am sure it did.

The feted French impressionist painter, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, notably remarked that he hated the word “art” and if anyone had the right to be pretentious about art, it was Renoir. Perhaps more accurately however, is that Renoir hated the highfaluting context for which the word “art”, was reserved. For Renoir believed that any “act of making” was art and saw art in many things. I am convinced that if afforded the opportunity to experience the rugby played at Ballymore during those years, Renoir may well have marvelled at “the art of rugby” and the brave, mercurial “artists” employing their paintbox of skills to render vivid memories on the minds of the spectators present.

I will never forget the experience of attending my first test match at Ballymore - the 1991 Test between Australia and Wales. The pre game festivities included the typical Ballymore ritual of a get together with friends in the car park with food and drink flowing from the car boot. Once inside the stadium, the atmosphere was unlike anything I had previously tasted.

My family and I were seated in the forward rows of the McLean stand that day; on the aisle, right next to the tunnel onto the field. The Wallabies filed past to enter the gaudy cauldron, just inches away; their jersey’s radiating with a lustre not appreciated through television sets. A demolition of the Welsh ensued. A young John Eales made a notable debut. When skipper, Nick Farr-Jones left the field with injury, he unexpectedly turned and acknowledged my support as he hobbled towards the dressing sheds. The day was capped off when an actual piece of gold sleeve from a wallaby jersey found its way back to one of the people in our group and was passed on to me. Had it been sown of real gold thread, it would not have been cherished as much as that cloth was, by an eight year old boy.

I will never forget the epic tests of 1992 and 1993 at Ballymore against the All Blacks and Springboks, respectively. Probably the two finest live sport contests that I have had the privilege of being in audience for - games of such quality and intensity, which will, one would assume, never again be played in such overflowing and intimate surrounds.

It was an era of great personality players, with names such as Lynagh, Farr-Jones, Horan, Little, Kearns and Eales in their prime; and combatants such as Poidevin, Scott-Young, Tabua and Ofahengaue regularly doing battle. Of course, there were also the many memorable Queensland performances, most of which were victories. It was a marvellous era for Australian Rugby and I feel lucky to have experienced it, in such a vibrant environment, as a youngster.

There was something very special, unique and quintessentially “Queensland” about watching rugby at Ballymore. It had a different feel to anywhere else – a different character altogether (even when compared with the old Lang Park). With its sprawling, park like atmosphere, creek side position, big trees, barbecues, close grandstands and grassy hill, Ballymore seemed to encapsulate all that was great about the lifestyle of the state, watching sport and playing rugby in Queensland.

In reminiscing on the memories of yesteryear, of watching rugby as a boy, one is naturally led to juxtapose it with the present experience, in the modern era. For what lingers in my reverie, together with the memory of the many great games I watched, is the litany of little things about a day at the rugby, that perhaps I took for granted, but which are conspicuous in their absence, nowadays.

Things such as bustling by the fences for the final siren to sound to sprint onto the field and attempt to snatch a prized piece of maroon and white corner post… surrounding the players after the game for an autograph or simply to get alongside your heroes… taking a shot at goal off the same sand mound where Michael Lynagh had nailed a crucial kick from… crowding the dingy tunnel outside the dressing sheds for a rare chance to be ushered through by Chris “Buddah” Handy… lingering on into the evening to enjoy the camaraderie of other rugby followers… the list goes on.

The decision to move Queensland Reds games away from Ballymore to Suncorp Stadium, has been explained as necessary for “growing the game”. Administrators frequently reference rugby’s move to professionalism in the same breath. The reality is the choice has been regressive for the game. Further, the average fan does not care about professionalism. Such a justification merely leaves a supporter feeling cold and short changed. And without the supporters, professionalism is redundant. Naturally, this author is an ardent critic of the decision to move away from Ballymore – the spiritual home of Queensland rugby and a historical, world class provincial rugby ground that catered perfectly to the Reds. It appears to have been a mistake on a number of levels.

Despite being a magnificent facility, like many modern venues, Suncorp Stadium has a particular sterility about it, when it is less than two-thirds full. It lacks character. Moreover, it does not take an economist to grasp the psychological benefits for marketing the game and generating demand by utilising a stadium that can be filled or sold out. It is strategically much better than promoting a venue that is consistently one third full. Evidence suggests that the QRU balance sheets would have been vastly improved in recent years, had the Reds remained at Ballymore.

But quite apart from empirical data, attendances and economics, there are other, arguably more important reasons for not only going “back to Ballymore”, but for “going back” to all that went with Ballymore, our rich traditions and everything Queensland rugby was about. It seems evident that it is in “going back”, that Queensland Rugby may, finally, move forward.

Rugby fans want an occasion. Even if the home side is flailing, if a fan can go home and say that they have had a good experience, a pleasurable outing, in spite of the result, they will return. Happy fans can do a lot to build atmosphere and spirit. Spirit stokes the fire that manifests a “home ground advantage”; it binds a team in purpose and resolve; and spirit achieves results.

But rugby is about more than sheer results, too. It is about families, friends and fun – and this has been forgotten in the new era. Little has been done to make a trip to the rugby memorable in its new home and yet, the social component was what traditionally always distinguished a day at the rugby.

Late last year I attended the Queensland XV vs Australian Barbarians game, touted as the “Back to Ballymore” weekend. As I weaved through the back fields, I was delighted to see the old “boot parties” in full swing and people enjoying a rare (these days) Sunday afternoon game – it instantly brought a smile to my face which remained for the rest of the day…

As I parked, a gentleman of no less than ninety, in my estimation, gingerly got out of the car adjacent, wearing with pride, a somewhat tattered blue sports coat, resplendent with the famed Queensland Reds koala logo on its breast. He gave me a “thumbs up” in solidarity. As I strolled towards the gates, past the carpark revellers, I couldn’t help but feel it really was like “coming home”.

I was able to make my way to our great old former seats in the Eastern Stand, for old times sake. The game itself was a free flowing affair, punctuated by some scintillating tries. It underscored the potential of Queensland’s talent base. Irrefutably, Queensland remains one of the most imposing and prolific nurseries of rugby talent anywhere in the world (one need only look at the origins of the players in the current team sheets of all four Australian provinces).

Having been coached by Phil Mooney at Queensland U/19 level a few years back, I am also convinced that he is absolutely the man for the job and the perfect person to lead the new generation Reds. The real challenge lies in enlivening culture and energy around the game once more and it seems Ballymore must play a role in this.

It was a great surprise to hear the ground announcer state that there were only 5,000 people in attendance. The atmosphere was tremendous for such a small crowd and served as a reminder of what a great ground Ballymore was, for that very reason. Five thousand people would have been completely lost in the steel colosseum of Suncorp.

At full time, children streamed onto the field transforming it into a living mass of youthful vigour and joy. Everywhere I looked, people were smiling and laughing and enjoying themselves. The happiness these occasions bring to children cannot be underestimated. A young boy of nine on his first visit to the ground told me afterwards how “fun Ballymore was” and how it was “better than Suncorp”… Fans mingled with players after the game and people stayed – just like the old days. It was a sharp contrast to the rapid exodus seen during the Super 14, just a few months earlier.

The code in Queensland has been self defeating by ignoring the things that made it different and special. At a time when seemingly everything in society is becoming more scientific, homogenised and corporatized, the organic elements and the points of difference become ever more important; especially in the “brave new world” of professionalism. It’s these unique differences that may create advantages. In turning its back on these things, Queensland rugby has inadvertently compromised our performance out in “the middle”. A recreation of the unique spirit and culture of Queensland rugby may also go a long way to subduing that other modern phenomenon – the talent drain.

Another celebrated figure of rugby’s past, the bold statesman, Alan Jones, who guest coached the Barbarians, was also clearly enjoying the occasion. Jones, impeccably attired in camel coloured suit, remained on the field long after the siren talking with people and left little doubt as to his sentiments regarding Ballymore, art and rugby, when he remarked that Ballymore remained “an iconic theatre of rugby”.

One only hopes we see more virtuoso displays from talented performers in this great theatre once more. For truly, it felt like rugby again.