Is World Rugby’s five-year residency rule a solution?
The extension from three years to five for the player residency rule may not be the final remedy.
In the world of athletics at the moment there are stirrings of a radical overhaul. The IAAF look increasingly likely to wipe all pre-2005 records in an attempt at removing any dirty fingerprints that might potentially compromise the integrity of the records. The damage, in this respect, is already done.
World Rugby, in their amendment of their ‘residency rule’, have, on the other hand, attempted to control any damage before it becomes irreparable. The rule, that stipulates a player residing in a country for three years is eligible for selection for that country’s national team, is set to be extended by the end of 2020 to five years.
Criticism of the rule was widespread on the grounds that it diluted the national team. Three years was seemingly too short a stay to represent the country with sufficient understanding or pride of what it was that was being represented. For some players a three year residency may have been time enough to properly ensconce themselves in the nation, for others it was merely a countdown, like that of thirst awaiting the click of the kettle. Three years may have proved adequate to make a proud adopted-countryman out of certain players but, much like the IAAF’s ridding of all records clean or dirty from the system, World Rugby couldn’t enforce the three year rule on a player-by-player basis, and, thus, three becomes five.
Whether this change will be a solution depends on the intentions behind the change. The extension to five years, opposed to a seven year rule or its removal all together, suggests that World Rugby hope to strengthen the integrity of the national game while allowing the sport to still be competitive, entertaining, and of a high standard across the globe. Will it achieve these goals?
The hope that five years in a given country would allow national pride and understanding to develop in a player seems a fair assumption. It takes a certain amount of staunchness and inflexibility to live and work in a country for five years without developing any affinity for that place. Of course there will be those who may be capable of such staying-power, and may carry out their five years to be awarded the national jersey without pride for anything other than what’s inside the jersey and the bank, but they can be considered exceptions.
Whether this rule change means entertainment and competitive levels will remain consistent is impossible to tell. Would Scotland have made the improvements of the last few years? Possibly not. Would Ireland have defeated New Zealand in Chicago in such spectacular fashion? Possibly not. Would New Zealand be as dominant as they currently are? Probably, but they tend to be the exception. Unfortunately, the change has the potential to widen the gap from the top, at least initially. Whether the same quality of players will continue to migrate and fill the national jerseys overseas is unclear, but it will, more than likely dissuade clubs from buying fully-fledged ‘project players’, and deter players from moving with the sole aspiration of international rugby.
It will unlikely slow any player movement between the hemispheres, supposing the monetary rewards north of the equator trump those in the south, but will see a decrease in players in their mid-twenties and older from moving solely for an international cap. If this rule had already existed then Josh Strauss, the South African born Number 8 who qualified for Scotland in 2015, would not have been eligible for his adopted country until he was thirty years old. Likewise, Jared Payne, the Kiwi who represents Ireland, would not have qualified to play for his new-found country until thirty. That is if they had even been brought over in the first place. The chances of a player being given their first cap at such a late stage in their career is unlikely, let alone a player being recruited five years in advance of their thirtieth birthday, with the intention of selecting them for the national side. Of course there are exceptions, as Willi Heinz will tell you.
This then leads teams to look for youth. This was an inevitability regardless of any rule change. It is part and parcel of professionalism that the more professional a sport becomes, the younger the recruits become. The alteration to the residency rule has only accelerated this process as clubs attempt to find potential recruits for, not only themselves, but also their nations. This is not without its own perils. For a national union, or club to invest in the vision of a player five years in the future is a risky game to play. Injury, unfulfilled expectations, or a change of heart, are all potential pins to the bubble, and all outcomes that are as likely as becoming a superstar.
For most clubs, signing younger players would mean cutting local academy members to make room for overseas youngsters. If this were the case, and the foreign recruit was, for any of the reasons above, unable to complete the five year residency, there would be one less internationally qualified player than if the local player had been kept.
There is of course an altogether more human side effect to the likely youth-focused recruitment. For a young man recruited overseas, it can be a wonderful opportunity, in rugby terms, but also in life. However, while the young apple may be picked from the tree to reside in a foreign fruit bowl, some of the fruit will invariably go sour. To be jettisoned across the world, and pressurised to focus on rugby with responsibility heaved on youthful shoulders, the green grass of the other side can quickly turn to mud.
