There are three means by which you can qualify to play international rugby for any country: place of birth, ancestry and residence. The first is clear. You are qualified to play for the country in which you are born. Nobody, I think, disputes this, though there are many whose connection to their birthplace is tenuous. The second, ancestry, invites some debate. Nobody, I think, suggests that a parental qualification is inadequate. Many however think that a grandparental one should be insufficient, especially if only one grandparent out of four provides the qualification. The third, residence, is at least clear. Three years residence in a country is enough. Some think this isn’t long enough, and indeed the intention is that it will be extended to five years. That is quite a chunk out of a rugby player’s career.
Every year people moan about national teams with several players whose connection to the country they have been selected to represent seems inadequate. Sometimes these objections are reasonable. On the other hand, people aren’t dogs: there are few pure breeds. People have been moving about in the British Isles for centuries. There can be few English families without Scottish, Welsh or Irish connections, and vice versa. I think Harold Wilson may have been the first twentieth century British Prime Minister to have four English grandparents – though perhaps Asquith, another Yorkshireman, beat him to it.
At this season of the year when squads for the Autumn Rugby Internationals are announced, allegations about X or Y’s foreign legion fly like the leaves being stripped from the trees. Some even suggest that elasticity of national allegiance is a consequence of the professional game rather that of the ever-greater mobility of people and the consequent mongrelism. Actually, things were much more relaxed in the good old amateur days. It often seemed then that players were picked without much reference to national qualifications. Moreover, it was then possible to play for more than one country – even at the same sport. So, for instance, the 1947-8 touring Australians featured a back-row forward called Doug Keller. He remained in England after the tour to complete his medical education at one of the London Hospitals and played club rugby for London Scottish. That was enough to persuade the Scottish Rugby Union selectors to nab him and indeed he went on to captain Scotland for a season.
In these immediate post-war years a fair number of Rhodes Scholars at Oxford seemed to owe their scholarship, to some degree anyway, to their sporting ability. The England rugby selectors took note of this, and were happy to whisk some of them into the team. So, for instance, the great New Zealand left-hand batsman, Martin Donnelly was capped by England at fly-half and the South African, Clive van Ryneveld at centre three-quarter. Donnelly may well have had English grandparents, but van Ryneveld who went on to captain South Africa at cricket and, as a lawyer and politician, to be active in the anti-apartheid movement, was, I think, thoroughly South African. Nobody cared much about qualification in the amateur days, just as, before India played Test cricket, the MCC and England selectors at home were happy to pick three Indian Princes – Ranjitsinhji, his nephew Duleepsinhji and the Nawab of Pataudi.
There’s certainly now a case for saying that, just as three years may be too short a period to permit someone to be qualified to play for a country, so also the grandparent rule should be scrapped or at least extended to a brace of grandparents. One may have some sympathy with this view. However, there must be cases in which the decision by a boy or girl to support a country may have been influenced, even determined, by that single grandparent. Indeed the brothers Tom and Max Evans who were born and educated in England but played rugby for Scotland said that their rugby allegiance was determined by their Scottish grandfather’s enthusiasm. I’ve often thought that the essential question to be put is: which of the different countries for which you have a qualification did you support when you were twelve? It might, unfortunately, be hard to get a trustworthy answer.
Not always of course. Most of a lifetime ago I recall a conversation with the Oxford University and England lock forward John Currie. Before he was picked for England his performances for Oxford had caught the eye and the Scottish selectors became aware that he had, or might have, a Scottish connection. The conversation took place during a cricket match – he was playing for the touring Oxford University Authentics. Had he been tempted? No, he said, it was ridiculous – this was the first time he’d ever been in Scotland. Of course, by then he had either been capped by England in what became a famous partnership with R W D Marques (Cambridge University) or would clearly soon play for England. Things might have been different, his Scottish connection worth pursuing, if the English selectors had shown no interest in him.
Now of course we have players who come north from the Southern Hemisphere, some recruited as “project players”, some feeling rejected or unwanted back home, some simply because they recognize that they will earn more money playing in the Six Nations countries than they are likely to at home so they are happy to qualify by residence. If at first their selection is resented by some, this usually fades away once they have demonstrated their commitment to their adopted country. Some of them are white South Africans who believe that their career at home has been blocked by the imposed, and probably necessary, quota system, some simply see richer pastures and better opportunities abroad. In general, they are accepted, only a few grumblers holding out.
In some ways of course the most absurd of qualification is place of birth. The great Duke of Wellington bridled if anyone described him as an Irishman. Admittedly he was born in Dublin, but, as he remarked, being born in a stable doesn’t make you a horse. Your place of birth may be fortuitous – I happen to have been born in Singapore, but was brought back to Scotland when less than a year old. I’ve never been tempted to fly the Singapore flag. On the other hand, the Scotland team now has a brilliant outside centre Huw Jones. His name as you may remark suggests Welsh parentage. He was schooled in England and went to university in South Africa. Happily, however, he was born in Edinburgh, and so according to the regulations of the International Rugby Board, he is a Scot. And, I must say, we’re delighted to have him.
Ultimately one might remember, or try to remember, that, just as most nationalism is a bit bonkers, national loyalties and affiliations are very often simply a matter of choice, and, as far as sport is concerned, it’s silly to get steamed up by matters concerning qualification. Some opposition players may be mercenaries, but not yours; they are merely chaps who have seen the light and committed themselves to the Cause.
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Iain Martin and the team make sense of the news, providing commentary and analysis on the stories that matter in politics, geopolitics, economics and culture.