When playing rugby becomes much more than just a game

The fallout for schools' rugby: Most parents would like their children to play games, not necessarily for the pursuit of sporting…

The fallout for schools' rugby: Most parents would like their children to play games, not necessarily for the pursuit of sporting honours but for the social inclusion involved.

Playing games leads to friendships being formed and strong bonds are often forged on playing fields, fostering the notion of a collective identity.

The higher the level a person plays, the more sacrifices that are required, both physically and emotionally.

Schools' rugby is ostensibly no different to many of its counterparts in other sporting codes with one significant exception: media coverage.

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The Leinster Schools' Senior Cup is feted in newsprint, a slow trickle reaching a torrent when the elite rugby schools join the competition in early February.

This year The Irish Times compiled a two page preview of the four provincial cups. Match reports, in terms of wordage, are occasionally comparable with adult tournaments like the Celtic League and Heineken Cup and are pinned up on noticeboards in the competing schools.

For the players and supporters these reports are scanned for the "who played wells".

The crowds that attend senior cup matches, particularly in Leinster, are wholly disproportionate to the importance of a schools' competition.

They are bolstered by the lure of the old school tie, a homily to schooldays long since gone. It is a bond for some that never wanes.

As one current international pointed out: "With the exception of test match rugby, I will never play in front of a bigger crowd than I did in a schools' cup final.

"You're talking about somewhere between 15,000 and 20,000 people." Those memories are treasured especially by those for whom that emotional high is never replicated in adulthood. These are background influences but the pressures within the school are no less acute.

For those attending rugby-playing schools and who enjoy the sport, the ultimate ambition is to make the senior cup team.

Among the smaller schools it is viewed as an honour and a source of pride but among the elite schools the pressure is magnified considerably.

Winning is the only currency and teams are encumbered by historical expectations. Coaches may play down chances of winning and publicly defer to rivals in a given year, but it doesn't mean their team is any less well prepared.

At senior cup level, teams train up to five days a week and often play two matches as well.

In the run-up to cup time, they may train two or three times a day, incorporating such staples of professional rugby as video analysis and dietary monitoring.

In several schools a pledge is undertaken that the senior cup squad will refrain from drinking alcohol until after they are knocked out of the cup.

This accentuates the bond formed by a group of individuals who share a common goal.

They would arguably spend as much time with their team-mates as they would with their family, the squad becoming a quasi-family.

The self-imposed discipline and sacrifices can be a hugely positive influence, often singled out by parents. The key is retaining a sense of perspective.

There is a degree of deference within the schools where the senior cup members are revered by some younger pupils.

Perks may include being fast-tracked at lunch queues to facilitate training demands, to a Red Sea-like parting when they stroll down corridors. They become a focal point in the school for some younger pupils .

Singing practices are convened where school songs are belted out in preparation for cup match days.

Being a member of the senior cup team guarantees privilege and an exalted status. It is further confirmed by the significance of the senior cup jersey. In many schools it is different from the standard school jersey worn by every other team.

Only the most grounded individuals would not have their heads turned by the acclaim.

Their status also guarantees more attention from the opposite sex ("rugger huggers"), many of whom attend the big schools' matches.

Every year the main protagonists for cup honours are known in September and the first seeds of a specific rivalry sown.

Some teams drawn against each other in the cup will not play a friendly match that year, everything being geared for that winner-take-all scenario in February.

A soothing balm for the rivalry can come when the top players from different schools converge under the umbrella of the Leinster Schools' team. With it comes the realisation that rivals from other schools are decent fellows and no different; no horns, no hooves. It's a view later reinforced in university.

There is no such psychological brake for the supporters and their rivalry is even more intense than that shared by the on-field protagonists.

It is often friends of those on the team that become more belligerent in the face of "provocation".

In any given year on a schools' cup winning team only one or two may go on to play professional rugby.

For the remainder, they have already experienced the zenith of their rugby careers and leave behind the cossetted culture where they were the centre of attention. It can leave an emotional void that they will struggle to replace.

On reflection they may view those days on the senior cup team as the best of times and don't appreciate anyone attacking those memories.

Discipline, work ethic, sacrificing individual needs in favour of the collective are all seen as positive qualities.

Schools' rugby is first and foremost a game and for the majority a very enjoyable experience without sinister overtones.

John O'Sullivan

John O'Sullivan

John O'Sullivan is an Irish Times sports writer