Another Lions tour added to the annals, and everyone is more or less happy. The British & Irish Lions take a series win, just about, and Australia have a pivotal moment at the end of the second Test to whinge about, or console themselves over, depending on your viewpoint.
Certainly, these days, it is difficult to know what disciplinary outcome may pertain to each incident in the cut and thrust of elite rugby. Most people with eyes can appreciate there was no head contact when Jac Morgan tried to clear out the jackling Carlo Tizzano in the buildup to Hugo Keenan’s winning try, but there is no doubt, either, that Tizzano was in an exposed position, just as that particular split-second represented an impossible situation for Morgan. Had he gone any lower he would have made contact with the head, higher and he would have missed the clearout altogether.
Beyond the noise of yet more grownups who should know better carrying on as if they were the first to find themselves on the wrong side of a contentious decision, a wider question has bubbled up again – and this one has been brewing for a while – about whether the time has come to put the jackal to sleep once and for all. Indeed, lexically, World Rugby has tried to do just that.
In the latest amendment to its law book, all mentions of “the jackal” and its variations have been replaced by “the stealer”. This may be because of the conjugation of a verb that did not exist in the English language until rugby came along. Before it removed them altogether, World Rugby chose to spell the inflections of the verb “to jackal” so that they matched those of the verb “to tackle”, rather than “to pedal”, causing mayhem in editorial offices across the world.
Some people consider the jackal sacrosanct, the ultimate embodiment of the contest for the ball that distinguishes rugby union from various other collision sports.
Once upon a time it tended to be the preserve of the openside flanker. Nowadays, with hundreds of tackles a match, a team need multiple players proficient at the skill. But once upon a time really is not very long ago in this case. The jackal is a phenomenon of the professional era. A few years ago, in the Welford Road press room, discussing it were a couple of former internationals; one who retired just before the game turned pro, the other whose career started just after. When they were asked who first became renowned for their jackling, there was a moment’s silence. The international from the amateur era looked blank. The one from the pro era, after some thought, offered Josh Kronfeld, the All Blacks openside of the late 1990s.
Which feels about right.
This is not to say no one ever went for the ball after a tackle in the amateur era, but there was not a name for the practice, and the window of opportunity was brief, with “hands off” called the moment an opponent bound on to form a ruck.
There are two main arguments for querying the jackal’s pervasiveness in the modern game. The first is a safety matter, although why we should pick on that area above any other is not obvious. Rugby is a dangerous game. The sooner the authorities recognise that by reserving their sanctions for deliberate acts of recklessness, the fewer impossible disciplinary quandaries there will be to resolve.
Jacklers, though, do place themselves in vulnerable positions – and it is not just the head that is exposed. A team doctor in the Premiership mused about 15 years ago that there was a new injury in rugby, which had been seen previously only in surfing, when the surfer is hit by a wave while crouched on the board. That injury, a serious one, is called an avulsion, when the hamstring is torn from the bone, and it is the jackler who suffers it if hit hard enough by a clearout.
So much for the safety. There is also a compelling argument on rugby grounds. The great poser these days is how to get players back into the ruck. The game has never been more vibrant and entertaining on the field, but insofar as there are bad games, which of course there are, they usually play out to the relentless thud of hit-up after hit-up as defenders fan across the field. The main reason they can do that is that they need to send only one player in at every tackle to jackal, who in turn invites two or three of the attacking side to clear out, thus tilting the balance beyond the ruck in favour of the defending side.
Make it illegal to use hands after the tackle, so the theory goes, and the ruck will become the primary contest for the ball at each tackle. A turnover can be won when the first defender steps over the ball. Thus teams will need to resource the rucks if they want to maintain possession or win it back. That should create space elsewhere.
It sounds reasonable, but there will almost certainly be downsides, as there always are in rugby’s eternal quest for the perfect set of laws. A personal view is that far too much latitude has been extended to the jackler, who is now granted rights to handle the ball, if the first one there, long after any ruck has formed. At the very least, rugby might consider a return to what used to be lore: that all hands come off the moment a ruck is formed.
A happy side-effect might be to calm the ardour of the clearout, where players almost panic at the sight of a jackler and charge in desperation. Any situation that permits a defender to put the attacking side in an impossible situation needs reviewing. The jackler is a prime example. Coming to a law trial near you …
Lions’ achievement will become clearer
Were the Lions slipshod in not smashing an Australia side that is hardly at the peak of its powers? Or did they do well to win a series against a team back on the up? We should know more from this weekend, when the Rugby Championship returns.
Australia travel to Cape Town to take on the world champions, South Africa, in the opener on Saturday. The Springboks had a ho-hum two-Test series win against Italy in July but still managed to put 45 on their visitors in the second Test, despite playing an hour with 14 men after Jasper Wiese was sent off for a headbutt.
Australia, of course, go into the match with more meaningful, and recent, competitive action behind them. If the Wallabies do not lose by more than 10, we may be looking at something more substantial than a chastened home team raising their game in the rain, as they did in Tests two and three against the Lions. If not, a third consecutive championship in last place is likely to beckon.
Memory lane
South Africa 18-29 New Zealand: Newlands, Cape Town, 10 August 1996. At the same venue 29 years ago, the first Rugby Championship concluded. Australia finished bottom of that one, too (on points difference), but the story here was New Zealand, who won all four of their matches in style. In any conversation about rugby’s greatest team, this iteration of the All Blacks features highly. Jonah Lomu had just burst on to the scene the year before but missed this match through injury and the Test series that followed it. No matter, Christian Cullen had since arrived. New Zealand went on to win two of those three Tests, the only time they have won a series in South Africa. The All Blacks were presented with a huge Tri-Nations trophy for winning the series. The story of how it came to be so big is told here.
Still want more?
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And the All Blacks rookie Leroy Carter had to rush to rescue his debut after his dog ate his passport. Yes, really.
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