Could this be a year even the Lions and Barbarians can’t survive?

Twenty or so years ago I thought that the ever more intense demands of the professional game would kill off two of rugby’s most popular institutions – the British and Irish Lions and the great guest club, the Barbarians. It hasn’t quite done so, but both are now being squeezed very hard.

There was always a case in simple rugby terms against the Lions . Yes, of course, the tours aroused great interest and there were some marvellous Test matches. But wasn’t it a bit absurd that four nations had to come together to play one whether that was South Africa, New Zealand or Australia? Looked at one way, didn’t it hint at a northern inferiority complex? Surely England or Wales could win Test matches, even Test series, against the southern hemisphere countries on their own? After all, France did, occasionally anyway.

The Lions concept made sense back in the day, when tours lasted for months (even after it was no longer necessary to travel to New Zealand by ship). In 1959, for instance, the Lions played 33 matches, the first on 23 May, the last on 29 September, and these included two Tests in Australia and four in New Zealand. It was a wonderful adventure, but not one that every player could afford to take part in. There were always some who had to decline invitations. Take Ken Scotland, one of the stars of that 1959 party, who made himself unavailable for the Lions tour of South Africa three years later. He was no longer a student, but a married man with an infant son and a new job.

Now, of course, with the World Cup every four years and southern hemisphere teams playing international matches in the northern hemisphere every autumn, and the Six Nations countries playing tests in the southern hemisphere every summer, familiarity has bred rather more confidence. A team that has won the Six Nations title is just as likely to win a Test in New Zealand, South Africa or Australia as a Lions team cobbled together at short notice. Lions’ tours have got shorter, much shorter, and there are now only three for four matches before the First Test is played; little time for a coach to weld players from four nations into a team. Next summer the English Premiership final will be played only a week before the Lions fly to South Africa, and this match is sure to feature a number of players who will be on that plane.

So the questions arise. Is the Lions concept outdated? What purpose does it serve? Of course for players it is still a great honour to be a Lion and one eagerly sought. The selection of the Lions squad arouses interest for months. There’s a tiresome side to this, for it sometimes appears to devalue the Six Nations when the media – and, to be fair, the public- seem to regard the Six Nations internationals as trial games for the Lions. This is irritating, though one has to confess to sometimes taking part in the conversation.

The Lions remain very popular and – Covid-19 permitting – as many as 30,000 fans will fly to South Africa with tickets for at least one Test. Meanwhile, the TV audience here will be huge, especially since the time difference between South Africa and the UK and Ireland means that you don’t have to get up in the middle of the night, or very early in the morning to watch the games. Yet the fact remains that next summer’s Lions will probably be no stronger, and no more likely to beat South Africa, than either England or Ireland would be.

Interest certainly survives, but the truth is that a Lions tour is now first and foremost a commercial enterprise, and it is particularly valuable to the host nation. South Africa, New Zealand and Australia all need the Lions more than any of the four Lions countries do. The financial position of each country’s Union is precarious, South Africa’s dire. Each needs the boost a Lions tour can give. This is why the Lions will survive. If the Lions didn’t make money for the home nation, the concept would be obsolete, especially given the length and congestion of the northern hemisphere season and the huge, indeed excessive, demands made on players.

So the Lions future is secure, for now anyway. The Barbarians’ one is more questionable. The invitation club has always been associated with rugby played for enjoyment. It used to make an Easter tour of Wales, and the invitation to be part of that was highly valued by players. That tour was stifled by the move to professionalism. The Barbarians however survived, playing a match against touring side. For many years these were regarded as unofficial internationals.

Then, the Barbarians found a role providing a team for special occasions, such as the opening of a new stand or for charity matches after a natural disaster. Then national unions welcomed the Barbarians for warm-up games before a tournament, most recently the one that should have been played against England last weekend before England resumed the Six Nations tournament carried over from the Spring. But again, fixture congestion and the demands on players have made it ever more difficult to field a strong team.

The team that should have played England made that point. It was composed mostly of players whose international days were over, with a few for whom such days had never come. That the players’ selfish stupidity in breaking the bounds of their Covid-confinement in order to go out for dinner and a session in the pub, caused the game to be called off, seems to sound a sad funeral bell for the Barbarians. It wasn’t, of course, the club’s fault. But it tarnishes its image, and goes some way to confirming the suspicion that its day, however glorious, is done.

The incident tarnishes rugby’s image too. All over the country people have been accepting restrictions on their freedom , restrictions without parallel in Peace time.  These experienced, even veteran, players, among them a much-respected former England captain and several from a Saracens team that has won English and European titles, couldn’t endure a few days’ confinement in a Park Lane hotel. You might see in their behaviour the last flicker of the old what-the-hell amateur spirit – or might have, if each hadn’t been on a match fee of £5000.