Mick Hartley

I thought I’d give the Rugby World Cup a chance on Saturday, but after 10 minutes I had to admit defeat. Who was I trying to kid? – it’s just not a sport I enjoy watching, and never has been. I can see the thrill of a well-executed try, the ball passing down the line of the three-quarters – but how often do you see that? Mostly it’s ragged scrummages. What particularly irks is the arbitrary nature of the endless penalties that get awarded. I’m sure they’re not really arbitrary – at least I hope they’re not – but for the spectator that’s the way it looks. There’s no way we can judge if an infraction’s occurred deep in the scrum: all we see is a mass of bodies, then the ref blowing his whistle and sticking his arm in the air. And again. And again. For 80 minutes. At least with football you can make your own judgement as to whether a foul’s been committed or not – which no doubt makes the ref’s job harder but livens things up no end for the spectator.

Except. I’d never thought too much about the All-Blacks and their haka, but my god, this is something. Worth the price of admission just to see that, I’d say. The game’s already half won. And how on earth do you respond? The French look distinctly uneasy, and I don’t blame them.

Here’s what the Tongans do though – the Sipi Tau. That’s more like it. Why don’t the teams just dance at each other, and then a panel of judges hold up score cards like in ice skating? It’d be a big improvement on the actual rugby.