When rugby turned professional, well, officially, on August 26th, 1995, two months after Nelson Mandela presented Springbok captain Francois Pienaar with the Webb Ellis trophy on home soil, I was about to start fourth year in Clongowes Wood College.
There was no early evidence in Irish rugby of the transformative effect that professionalism would have on the sport. The meagre attendances at interprovincials continued initially while Ireland’s international performances were still filed under “plucky”.
The 1997 Lions tour to South Africa ensured a higher profile for rugby, while Eric Miller’s move to the Leicester Tigers highlighted a new pathway for Irish players. Rugby has come a hell of a long way since those modest beginnings.
Who will start at 10 for Ireland during the Six Nations?
In my formative years playing rugby my focus was on trying to make junior and senior cup teams in school. When I entered the senior cycle, I was selected on extended panels for underage Leinster and Ireland teams without coming close to forcing my way into contention.
At the time it was rare enough for a fifth year to force their way on to a provincial or national team. Andy Dunne was one of those exotic creatures, a great schools rugby talent. A summer of running and growing enabled me to have a genuine crack at those teams in sixth year.
To this day I can vividly recall the huge excitement when those letters dropped into the hallway at home, informing me that I had been selected for the Leinster Schools and subsequently the Ireland Schools teams. That was my universe, in that moment nothing existed beyond it in rugby terms. There were no thoughts of a professional career in the sport.
I took the responsibility of my selection seriously. Talent got you there, but it came with responsibility. We were representing our families, the other players that didn’t make it, our schools, our provinces and then when pulling on the coveted green jersey, Ireland. I loved that environment, and the weight of expectation sat lightly for me on a pitch.
Opportunities arrived in a blur. I turned professional shortly after my Leaving Cert and was capped by Ireland at senior level a little over a year later. It was an alien environment off the field, big personalities and cliques, and one as a teenager I found overwhelming, unable to get comfortable.
Conversely, crossing the white line I could leave that insecurity in the dressingroom. It wasn’t what you said, how you dressed or what music you listened to, it was now about what you could do on a pitch. I believed in my ability.
When I was capped for Ireland at 19, I didn’t appreciate it as much as I should have. I was able to handle the expectation but didn’t put together a framework away from the pitch that allowed me to prioritise rugby. It took me a few years to realise that there is more to being a professional than holding your own in a game.
In 2004, after what I refer to as the ‘wilderness years,’ the then Ireland head coach Eddie O’Sullivan nabbed me on a Sunday evening ahead of the opening match in the Six Nations Championship to inform me that in my sixth cap, I would be starting at outside centre, in the 13 jersey.
His instructions were succinct, to tell no one and get as much out of the week training, at the end of which we played France in Paris. I was presented with my match jersey ahead of travelling. Having seen my career stall, emotionally it had echoes of my first cap. It was special.
Five years later before our Grand Slam in 2009, I remember Declan Kidney’s words ahead of that campaign. He spoke about how the recession was crippling people and that we were in a unique position to offer a little window of respite from the daily grind, that we could give our supporters something to enjoy.
He spoke about how we had obligations to fulfil when representing Ireland, that we weren’t just playing for ourselves or each other. It was the right message at the right time for us, and a timely reminder in the midst of professionalism that we were playing for more than the money. It still reverberates strongly in me to this day, and I do think it reconnected something with the sport and team for a lot of people.
In the era of professionalism, rugby has got many things right, a whole industry has been created off the back of growing the game, where the Six Nations is now valued at roughly €4 billion. I wonder now how much more the game can continue to grow, and trying to find new revenues or audiences will come at what cost? The battle between tradition within the game and the need for entertainment or creating an experience are fast becoming polar opposites.
I struggle with the constant need to try to speed the game up, the latest attempt in squeezing conversions into a 60-second time frame and thereby undermining a skill that has been intrinsic to the outcome of many a game.
Rugby’s evolution has undoubtedly brought incredible growth, both on and off the field but in the push for bigger audiences, faster games, and more entertainment, we must tread carefully to protect the values that made the sport special in the first place. The pride of representing your club, your school, your province, or your country, that’s where the soul of the game lies.
Playing England at home in the opening match of the Six Nations everything fades into the background, money, contracts, and even form. All the money in the world won’t help you make that pass, tackle or kick.
Ireland captain Caelan Doris and his leadership group will set a tone this week in ensuring that the squad get to the emotional and physical pitch. Pressure makes diamonds.
For those fortunate enough to pull on the green jersey this Saturday, that weight of history and expectation isn’t a burden, it’s an honour and I hope the Irish players enjoy every minute of it and give the crowd a reason to cheer yet again.
