Such a roguishly poetic title is what seemed to come
naturally for this account of the game in a place so perplexing to the
outsider, and especially to the Anglo-Saxons who make up most of the rest of
the rugby world. “We just don’t know which France will turn up!” is a frequent
phrase trotted out by lazy pundits on match days. But why do we not? Why are
the French so damned unpredictable? Is it their attitude? Is it their
upbringing? Or are, as some people assume, French people, never mind rugby
players, hard-wired to be eccentric and erratic one minute and then dull, pragmatic
and downright awful the next? Big questions, indeed.
For French rugby really needs no defending. Unprecedented
television deals, bumper crowds, and huge ‘investment’ has made it the place
most rugby players want to be. The fans are the most passionate and
enthusiastic anywhere, the pitches are hard and fast and then of course there’s
the bread, the food, the café and did
someone say wine?
But there’s no point trying to get away from it, the main
reason is the money. Jacky Lorenzetti of Racing Métro 92, Mourad Boudjellal of
Toulon, Michelin of Clermont-Auvergne, Pierre-Fabre of Castres, the town of
Toulouse ably assisted by Renault amongst others. Also, crucially, the Top 14
has NO salary cap whereas the English Premiership does. Hence, France is the
place to be if you want to start a bidding war for your mercenary services.
It’s important to note that Local governments happily pump money into their
rugby club. The club is the town’s way of promoting itself on a national stage,
so if the club loses it reflects badly on the town. That’s why the city of
Lyon, never a rugby hotbed (although the surrounding Alps are very rugby
oriented), have recently spent huge amounts on getting their team promoted to
the Top 14. Also, rugby is far better viewed than soccer, but hey, what’s new
on that front?
This feeling of rugby representing the town can be explained
through the phrase l’esprit de cloche, the
spirit of the clock-tower. Every town has a clock-tower or large church spire,
and if you can see the clock tower, you must defend the town’s honour. This
explains the extraordinary statistics on home wins in French rugby. In the Top
14, 73% of matches are won by the home side. To put that in perspective, the
figure is 68% in the Rabo Pro 12, 63% in t he Aviva and 56% in Scotland’s Prem
1.
Teams must win at home; absolutely imperative. When away
from home, teams are content with putting up a decent fight, and coming away
with a losing bonus point if possible. As more becomes invested in the game,
these statistics are changing as attitudes change, and club owners are no
longer content with flying their stars around the Hexagon to just put up a
decent fight.
If you look at a map of the south of France, this l’esprit de cloche becomes significant.
Nearly every town is a well known rugby name. From Perpignan, round the South
coast to Narbonne to fallen giants Béziers to new heavyweights Montpellier to
Aix-en-Provence to Toulon. Toulon is the last rugby outpost as one moves round
to Italy, as people seem to be keener on films and beaches and celebrity to
knocking lumps out of the next town’s butcher or baker; an anomaly, I’m quite
sure.
The inland region centred on Toulouse is another of the
hotbed region. In a very small area you’ll find Agen, Castres, Albi, Colomiers,
Toulouse, Montauban, Carcasonne and the painfully named Auch.
So the South is where it’s all happening. I think there’s
something disobedient about the south of France; they certainly mistrust the
north and often downright dislike it, especially Paris and Parisians. The south
is boisterous, colourful and rebellious. In short, where the northerners are
Norman and Anglo-Saxon, the southerners are Mediterranean: impulsive.
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