Not since that jaw‑dropping moment last year when a court was told that Rebekah Vardy’s agent had lost her mobile phone in the North Sea has there been a more prolonged social media guffaw. “Owen Farrell has escaped a ban of any kind? Hahahahaha. No, honestly, stop messing about. What did he really get? You must be JOKING! That’s ridiculous.”
A similar conversation will have been unfolding on refereeing WhatsApp groups the world over and, almost certainly, within World Rugby’s corridors of supposed influence. Minus the laughing-face emojis. Because, theoretically, rugby union is a sport doing everything it can to portray itself as safe and responsible. Except that, in reality, its entire disciplinary system now looks totally unfit for purpose.
In all sorts of ways Farrell’s lucky escape or otherwise is not the headline news item. Yes, it beggars belief that England’s captain has somehow escaped on a technicality when another ban for a reckless head-high charge seemed certain. Yes, it will be a major relief for both the player and his coaches. But the repercussions go far beyond that. Across the global game, the ripple effect of this verdict will be massive. And not in a good way.
Because, with the highest-profile Rugby World Cup in history starting in barely three weeks, what price all those stern official messages about lowering tackle height and player welfare? How can the game even pretend to be effectively governed when the most important new innovation in years, the “bunker review” system, has already been crassly undermined?
The idea was that offences such as Farrell’s shoulder to the head of Wales’s Taine Basham, deemed a yellow card at the time, could be double-checked to see if they should be upgraded. No one with even the slightest knowledge of rugby’s modern safety crusade could have watched the slow‑motion footage without thinking: “Hmm, he’s in trouble here.” The official concerned, Ireland’s Brian MacNeice, had plenty of time to reach a considered judgment. Which he duly did. Red card. See you for sentencing next week.
Instead, Farrell has had his sending-off rescinded, for which he owes England’s sharp-eyed legal eagle, Richard Smith KC, a bottle of something expensive. The latter has been defending Red Rose players for as long as some of the current squad have been alive and knows all of rugby’s potential disciplinary loopholes. Seeking to defend his client is very much his job, but surely the bunker review initiative ruled out any chance of Farrell being exonerated? Not so, apparently.
Try telling Basham, who could play no further part in Saturday’s match, that justice has now been done. Or any of the former players worried about the future possibility of early onset dementia. If the legal action being brought by many of those affected ever reaches the courts, the claimants now have a perfect Exhibit A to bolster their argument that rugby’s authorities are still not doing enough to protect those at the sharp end.
That is certainly the view of Prof John Fairclough from the player welfare and concussion awareness lobby group Progressive Rugby. Fairclough believes the decision “has made a mockery of World Rugby’s claim that player welfare is the game’s No 1 priority”. It is a conclusion that will be shared by many, possibly including some of Farrell’s teammates. So upright shoulder charges and no-arms tackles are now fine again? Talk about opening a huge can of oval‑shaped worms.
Because if Jamie George’s involvement in the Basham incident was so significant, how come any clear lowering of height was not seen during the bunker review re-examination? At no stage, either way, was Farrell aiming to go low. The independent disciplinary committee, even so, concluded the foul play review officer was wrong, on the balance of probabilities, to have upgraded the yellow card. They might as well have added that World Rugby’s shiniest new initiative is a waste of time.
It sets a deeply worrying precedent. Every player now cited for a high tackle will be tempted to use the Farrell case as possible mitigation in one form or another. And what about all the community players forbidden to tackle opponents above the base of the sternum? One law for the high and mighty, another for the rest? That will be the understandable interpretation across the world’s smaller unions as they await a major tournament that, one way or another, will define rugby union for many.
Which is why the Farrell case will reverberate for so long. England – hey presto! – suddenly have their captain and fly-half available against all odds. The whole affair also raises the much bigger question of how rugby wishes to present itself. Does it want to be seen as the unreconstructed bad boy of world sport, too wrapped up in legalese and self‑interest to notice how others perceive it? Or is it genuinely serious about being a forward‑looking professional sport that has outgrown expedient bans and perverse pardons for serial offender players?
For the time being we will have to await the first high tackle of the Ireland versus England game on Saturday and guess what sanctions might now apply. Or idly reimagine an updated version of Sidney Lumet’s classic Twelve Angry Men with the jury‑influencing role of Henry Fonda now filled by the aforementioned Richard Smith. Farrell has walked free but, in truth, it feels like a dark day for rugby.
