Brendan Gallagher: Pomposity overload? Cure it with my minnows

It might surprise you to learn that 131 of the scheduled 184 qualifying games for Rugby World Cup 2015 have already taken place since the tournament officially got underway in Mexico City last March when the home team thumped Jamaica 68-14.
Of course the matches that really count in terms of gaining one of the eight qualifying places still lie ahead of us – such as the CanAm double-header that got underway in Charleston last night – but as the action hots up this autumn and next spring I still wonder why rugby, of all sports, doesn’t show more appreciation of the battling minnows.
Without these brave far-flung rugby nations who still play mainly for the love of the game and a jug of beer, RWC could not, with any conviction and honesty, be entitled to call their competition a World Cup. Effectively it would be little more than an extremely high quality four-yearly invitation event.
The vast majority of the 84 nations who went to the starting line last year had absolutely no chance of qualifying and that’s where RWC differs so markedly with the Football World Cup. What RWC qualifying games do provide, however, is the excuse and impetus for local international competition which they can use to sell and promote the game and earn local bragging rights. From that the fervent desire of rugby’s overlords is that a considerable rugby nation somehow randomly develops – perhaps Kenya or Portugal, Chile or Madagascar.
Madagascar? Well just for the record nearly 40,000 fans packed into the Mahamasina Stadium at the island’s capital Antananarivo last month to watch them beat Uganda 38-22 and qualify for a dust-up with Namibia, Kenya and Zimbabwe next year to claim Africa’s automatic place at RWC 2015. Call me old fashioned but I would love to know a bit more about Madagascan rugby and even though nobody at their Union office answered my calls this week I remain on their case.
What was the story, for example, when they defeated Namibia 57-54 in the last minute of injury time last July? And has lock Tolotra Ratsimba Ramaromiantso got the longest name in Test rugby? I can just hear Bill McLaren rolling his tongue around that one.
The main thing about rugby’s weekend warriors and talented amateurs is that they remain the perfect antidote to the occasional unavoidable outbreak of bull and pomposity that still afflicts our great game.
Rugby is nothing without its special ambience and tolerance and sometimes we badly need reminding of that. I’ve reported on the latter stages of all seven World Cups but some of my fondest memories – to place alongside November 22 2003, that amazing France v New Zealand semi-final in 1999 and those first early sightings of Jonah Lomu in 1995 – come from the earlier qualification rounds.
Unreported, unremarked but unforgettable.
Barely was the 1991 World Cup over than I found myself sheltering in the snug of Paddy Whelan’s bar in Riga and supping the best pint of Guinness outside of Dublin as Latvia’s thirsty squad discussed their epic victory over Finland earlier that freezing afternoon in the first qualifying game of the 1995 World Cup. A timeless rugby scene full of song and raucous optimism around an open fire that remains seared in the memory despite a disastrous switch on my part to Latvian vodka later that night.
Another time I ventured into sunny Andorra where the locals – a riotous bunch of French, Basques, Spanish, Andorrans, Georgian nightclub bouncers and itinerant out-of-season ski-instructors – tackled Finland (again) in the opening qualifying match of the 2007 World Cup.
Referee Andre Watson’s last World Cup game had been the 2003 final itself and right there in La Vella Andorra ten months later he decided to bow out of the game altogether. As we all squeezed into the clubhouse – Bar Tequila to be precise – the South African announced his retirement with immediate effect. “I am delighted and honoured to bow out among true rugby people and enthusiasts. It’s exactly how I wanted to go,” said Watson with a solemnity not normally seen at Andorra’s premier watering hole.
Andorra romped to a 76-3 win on that day and their only panic came at 4 o’clock the following morning when the city’s two nightclubs both closed unaccountably early. Just for a minute the party, including most of the Norwegians, looked set to break up but then Andorra’s captain, Tom Kampfraat, remembered that one of the villages in the hills – La Massana – was staging its annual fiesta, a spectacular knees up that rarely ended much before Sunday lunchtime.
Taxis were hastily summoned and the boys were back on tour again. Bravo.
Barbados was another strange but rather wonderful World Cup experience. This time, remarkably, the tiny Caribbean nation with just 31 adult players actually on the island at the time, found themselves theoretically just two matches away from qualifying for the 2007 finals after winning their way through three qualification pools which earned them a home match against “mighty” Canada and then away to the USA in the Americas finals.
The Bajans staged their big match inside the historic Garrison Savannah Racecourse one sweltering and chaotic Saturday afternoon. Rated at 5,000-1 outsiders, they kicked off just as Big Chief Bubba, the 9-4 favourite, romped home 50 yards away in the big race. There were hooves and boots, whips and gumshields flying everywhere.
Barbados lost 69-3 but forget the scoreline. How, and not how many, is what Barbados rugby was all about – 36 hours before the match they received a text from star player Bruno Green, the British Army wing, who was unavoidably detained in the Middle East. They trained at night using their car headlights to illuminate the pitch and they dug a huge irrigation system themselves just to ensure the Canada game could be staged. On match day they carefully marked out the pitch, put the goalposts in and enlisted yours truly to help erect the temporary stands and gazebos. Come kick-off, to use the technical term, they were absolutely knackered.
So bear all that in mind, please, when you read various apparently meaningless scores in the small print before the big decisive Continental finals. Don’t get all sniffy and dismiss their efforts. The true value of any meaningful cup competition is directly related to the blood, sweat and beers that go before the final itself.