Soaked in the stands, rinsed in the wallet

CHRIS HEWETT

GUEST COLUMNIST

Bath have not won a competitive match at the Recreation Ground since early June. As they are currently charging as much as £71.50 for a seat nakedly exposed to the prevailing south-westerlies and accompanying downpours, it is easy to sympathise with the forlorn soul who says: “I don't know whether they're trying to lift my spirits, or my wallet.”

Those who have no need to trouble themselves with such detail might be interested to learn that £71.50 is the equivalent of an eight-hour shift for a worker on minimum wage: an awful lot of money for an awful lot of people, although it is worth pointing out that a £41.50 “prole's” ticket on the terraces offers a better chance of staying dry, if not of witnessing a victory.

Hard though it is to believe, the cheapest standard adult season ticket at “The Wreck”, as visiting supporters invariably refer to it, is more expensive than its equivalent at…er… Manchester City. Or West Ham. Or Leeds United. Given the business models of the respective football codes, you really have to wonder.

It is further proof, as if any were needed, that rugby's governing classes and their commercial associates always err on the side of the big numbers when it comes to cash.

Take a look at the “deals” on offer at Stade de France for the business end of the World Cup in 2023 (warning: you may want to apply search engine filters so your kids cannot see what's happening to their inheritance).

For a minimum of £8,500 – an absolute snip, you will agree – you can hire a “Skybox” for the two semi-finals, the so-called “bronze medal match” (which discerning rugby folk would happily pay NOT to watch) and the final. Another warning: some of these boxes accommodate 28 guests on their private balconies. Yes, really. There's more space in the Kingsholm Shed on derby day.

But let's not be completely Calvinist about it: you at least get to enjoy the services of a maitre d'hotel as part of your package up there in the northern reaches of Paris. You can't find one of those in the badlands of Gloucester for love nor money.

Furthermore, the advertising script promises a “premium buffet both indulgent and refined, showcasing French gastronomy, themed to reflect the day's matches”. In light of which, we can only celebrate the weakness of rugby in the Himalayan kingdoms. Glazed loin of snow leopard with essence of yeti and a yak crisp would not give the menu the best of looks.

The marketeers are on a roll, obvi- ously. “In this ultra-premium setting,” they tell prospective customers in language so flowery you could wrap it in a bouquet, “nothing is left to chance.

For five hours, you will give everyone your undivided attention…and experience moments of intense communion, which your professional contacts will remember for life.” Let's hear it for the Fouroux of flannel, the Berbizier of balderdash, the Dupont of drivel.

Policy-makers insist rugby is “a game for the people with money”

Not that the French have a monopoly on this kind of thing. The tourist blurb surrounding the 2023 “deluxe final only” offering with England Rugby Travel – prices start from £5,995 a head including travel, accommodation and an official shirt, along with a “category two” seat – focuses, imaginatively enough, on the Eiffel Tower.

This is the same Eiffel Tower where Guy de Maupassant, grand master of the short story, ate lunch every day. Why? Because it was the one place in the city where he couldn't see the bloody thing.

Mind you, the top-end rugby experience has a way to go before it knocks its round-ball rival off-perch.

When the FIFA World Cup unfolds in Qatar this time next year, an A-list “Pearl Lounge” ticket in the Britishdesigned, Chinese-built Lusail Iconic Stadium will set you back £26,000 as a starting price. That's without flights or hotels, although a “padded seat” is included, along with a “dedicated hostess” – as opposed, presumably, to one who is merely half-hearted.

Football exists in a parallel economic universe, which explains the wild excess of the “Pearl Lounge”, just as it does the willingness of distinctly average clubs to throw somewhere north of £300,000 a week at central defenders who don't defend nearly well enough. Rugby would love to join it up there in outer space, but the distance is too great, the cost too prohibitive and people with their fingers on the buttons in mission control far too muddle-headed. It will never be a “game of the people” while the policy-makers insist on burnishing its reputation as a “game for the people with money”.

In sporting terms, the Americans have more money than anyone else, which is why World Rugby, the nongoverning governing body, is desperate to crack the market.

Fat chance. Joe Marler will start an England match on the right wing before that happens – and Bath may even win a home game.