Why rugby league shouldn’t worry about Rugby 360: or rugby union at all

There was a rugby union game in Australia at the weekend, and for once, it had some cut through.

Data suggested that 1.8 million people watched at least some of it on Channel Nine, topping the charts for Saturday night as the Wallabies lost meekly to the British & Irish Lions in Brisbane.

That 1.8m was the equivalent to Friday night’s AFL on Channel 7 between Brisbane Lions and Western Bulldogs, or less than half a State of Origin, which did 3.9m for Nine in the decider a few weeks ago.

This whole series appears to be for the benefit of the British tourists more than the locals, as beyond filling the empty coffers of Rugby Australia, it’s just reminded everyone how bad rugby union is in this country.

For a casual fan turning in, you got a game that was hard to understand, except for the obvious fact that the Australian team weren’t very good at it.

Living here in Australia, the whole thing appears to be somewhere between an excuse for cashed up Brits to come on holiday and a marketing exercise for Guinness or Qatar Airways.

Sporting event? Less so. Then again, this isn’t a surprise.

Australia have won two of the last eight against England, two of the last eight against Ireland and three of the last eight against Scotland. The good news is that they have a good record against Wales, who didn’t contribute a single player to the Lions’ team on Saturday night.

Esteemed union scribe Robert Kitson, writing in The Guardian, has already called for the Lions to wipe the floor with the Wallabies in the next two matches, because for this tour to be memorable, it would have to be for embarrassing reasons rather than as contests.

That sentiment has been reflected elsewhere.

The vibe, such as it exists, is reminiscent of the early 2000s England football friendlies, where the Three Lions would turn up in, say, Malta, to be greeted by ads for English brands on the hoardings around the pitch, few locals who wanted to see David Beckham and a hoard of their own supporters testing the aerodynamics of plastic furniture.

What is pertinent for a rugby league audience is the retinue that has arrived with the Lions, in the form of former England rugby union international turned Royal handbag Mike Tindall, who is heavily involved with the mooted R360 breakaway league, which we’re told will upend global rugby union by throwing cash at it.

Their plan is to create a roving rugby union competition that travels around the world, a sort of Sevens circuit with a bigger expense account, featuring eight men’s and four women’s teams created in the mould of LIV Golf and, you guessed it, funded at least in part by the Saudis.

If this sounds like a half-formed thought, it’s because it is.

Somebody somewhere has mentioned a huge number and everything else is formed around it, without asking anyone if it was actually needed or wanted anywhere.

It’s the classic modern sport thing of attempting to fill a gap in the market that doesn’t currently exist, shoehorning content into a calendar already creaking at the seams.

There’s already too much rugby union and rugby league played in a year for athletes to be at their best, but that’s no object if the cash is there.

Much like the IPL trying to inflate the cricket calendar or the recent FIFA Club World Cup that artificially added a month to the soccer season, those participating will be recompensed well for their extra efforts, but the product will not improve and, indeed, will worsen.

From an NRL perspective, the threat is there to poach leading players, or at least, those leading players who would be suitable for a travelling union roadshow.

Roger Tuivasa-Sheck is already mooted as an option, as is Ryan Papenhuyzen, and you’d have to guess that Kalyn Ponga’s recent engagement of a rugby union agent would put him on the radar too.

He’d be the perfect poster boy for this: consistently the most overpaid player in the NRL – he won a Dally M and yet still didn’t live up to his pay cheque – and infinitely replaceable for his club.

That’s the thing about rugby union coming for rugby league’s talent – it doesn’t work.

League is predicated on the idea that you’re only as good as your worst player, and there’s a constant stream of next-men-up to jump at the chance when it occurs. If they fail, guess what? Here’s the next guy.

That’s why, to pick just the most recent edition of this trope, Joseph-Aukuso Suaalii can walk out on the Roosters and immediately be replaced by someone you’ve never heard of and the team not suffer for a second.

As much as the fanfare was around Mark Nawaqanitawase going in the other direction, Suaalii’s replacement was actually Robert Toia, who has already achieved more in rugby league in 17 professional games than his predecessor ever did.

If a player from the top of the game switched to R360 and did well, it would only deepen the argument that the NRL was the elite of the elite of rugby competitions.

We saw this when Suaalii played one game for the Wallabies and was immediately their best player, whereas in rugby league, he was far from elite.

If a player went to R360 and failed, who would even notice?

The NRL’s production line of talent, as the Wallabies can attest, is basically unbreakable at this point, while rugby union has lost the talent production argument by so much that it’s comical.

Where the NRL can call up an unknown, debut him in Round 1 and have him carrying the Origin shield by July, the Wallabies’ next in line was a guy called Nick Champion de Crespigny, the expensively educated son of a mining magnate. Plus ça change.

Champion de Crespigny could be the greatest rugby union player of all time, but the joke would still write itself.

The R360 project might well sign a few league players, and if they do, good luck to them. Guys like RTS, who have excited fans for years, deserve every bit of cash they can get.

But the warning remains the same as every other instance of this, from LIV Golf to franchise cricket to the Club World Cup: don’t expect people to care.

Sport remains almost bulletproof in terms of demanding authenticity and to paraphrase the exceptional Rugby League Digest podcast, the question of whether a competition is Mickey Mouse or fair dinkum is one that only the supporter can make.

Mickey Mouse might pay well, but if the sport is meaningless, no amount of cash can cover for it.

Just ask the Lions, who are undoubtedly fair dinkum.

Whatever their opposition, anywhere in the world, playing a huge tour like it’s 1888 – which was a professional expedition, a tradition they’re curiously less vocal about – is not done because someone in a marketing committee designed it.

Fans love it because of that. It’s not about the best v the best, it’s about heritage and authenticity. Legions of Pommy tourists aren’t travelling to watch R360, but they will for this.

Contrast Major League Cricket, which just finished in Grand Prairie, Texas.

It featured lots of guys who’ve heard of – Glenn Maxwell, Trent Boult, Rachin Ravindra, Quinton de Kock, Faf du Plessis and this could go on – but nobody cared, because they’re all already playing for someone else in another comp that is also meaningless.

If you excuse the American pun, it’s the definition of Mickey Mouse, as almost all franchise cricket is.

That’s the decision facing the rugby league players enticed by R360. The same goes for the union players, though at least they’ll be guaranteed to be good at the sport in question.

What will likely result is the end of good rugby league careers for increasing obscurity, playing out proud careers in a league that ultimately doesn’t matter.

When you’ve won a lot in sport, you’re entitled to go get paid somewhere – just don’t expect anyone to care about it. Rugby league, as it always does, will find new heroes instantly.