Referees have reacted in very different ways to the scrum, but it's their reaction to the first scrum that vexes me, writes LIAM TOLAND

AS WE inch towards the end of the year, I’ve found myself buried in the minutia of our game. Last January Nenagh legend Séamus Harty brought me very deep into the abyss that is crouch, touch, pause and engage. He explained in great detail what the tighthead in particular is attempting to do or not do. Without going back into that level of examination the scrum continues to fascinate me but in particular the advent of the scrum clock.

Instead of abusing the referee for not sorting it out I’ve found myself trying hard to get into the heads of those frontrowers, Harty style. I’ve always felt that a tighthead’s preparation for the crouch, touch, pause, engage is very similar to the Olympic power lifter prior to the snatch. The obvious difference is the bar isn’t trying to kill him.

Over the weeks referees have reacted in different ways to the scrum but it’s their reaction to the first scrum that vexes me. Considering what both frontrows are trying to achieve, that first scrum is crucial for technique, power and bragging rights. Why referees are so quick to penalise on the first scrum is beyond me. Is it to establish their control and authority?

For instance Jerome Garces was in the middle when Bath entertained Leinster in the Rec. He elected to manage the scrum, not with his whistle but with his voice. In doing so he somewhat poo poo’d the establishment who no doubt are looking for a sterile scrum environment. Considering the Olympic bar from above, it is almost impossible to establish laboratory conditions on the scrum.

The day before at the Sportsground, as Connacht battled Gloucester, Neil Paterson was very whistle happy at scrum time. Clearly the referee must change the behaviour of players if a pattern evolves but he can adjust their behaviour long before he blows the whistle. He can also afford both frontrows an opportunity to welcome each other without conceding an early three points from a scrum penalty that could very well be down to poor timing or a slip of footing.

There are two ridiculous solutions to this challenge. As a backrower I loved scrummaging, especially scrummaging against the ‘machine’. It was yet another occasion where I’d ‘lean’ in and take a well earned rest. Live practice scrums between the A B teams or visiting clubs were always a testing affair. Often times a referee was required to keep order on proceedings. On countless occasions scrum nerds (gurus) such as Roly Meates and Des Fitzgerald would wax lyrical about the beauty contained therein; but they would never launch two packs at each other off bat as happens every week for that first scrum. Before the very first live ‘practice’ scrum would take place even these experts would have to work hard on the outcome.

I’ve often laughed at the suggestion that referees are clueless regarding scrummaging. I think this is not so but even if it were the scrum coaches; even the players themselves won’t always get it right.

Roly or Des would firstly engage the frontrows in a little flexing of the muscles then add the secondrows before finally the backrows. The first engage of the session was never crouch, touch, pause, engage as they would allow both wildebeests to fold in. When all 16 were locked into place he would then, under control, lower the height of the scrum, then raise it and then crab the scrum left and right before rotating it clockwise and anticlockwise. This laborious process achieved a number of actions. Primarily it took the steam out of the protagonists where the obvious first hit was hidden amongst all the dancing.

But it actually achieved something more important than that. As the scrum height was dropped under Roly’s supervision the opposing frontrows had no choice but to co-operate with each other in order to prevent a fall. He would pause the scrum in this position and looking back on those dark, wet training nights it was the only time I can recall where frontrows combined for a common outcome. Only after this five-minute ritual would Roly move on to the live stuff. Now considering the time clock and the call for faster, cleaner scrums, would it be a worthwhile exercise to spend a couple of minutes before the first scrum to take that first heated hit out of the game. Crazy? If not then a first-scrum routine could aid immeasurably to the outcome.

Of course no sooner was the live scrummaging started than the arguments would kick in. The A tighthead was always vulnerable as a poor showing would inevitably end in a punch. It’s amazing to recall the hours spent observing this strange ritual where a scrum would fold or collapse and all three frontrowers would have somebody else to blame. Do they even know what’s going on in there?

The other solution is preventative refereeing and in Alain Rolland we have the leading light where through his calls he prevents the scrum in the first place. “You of all people should know it has to leave your hand” was the direct quote from Rolland while refereeing Ulster versus Scarlets. He was scolding Ian Humphries for failing to release the ball while taking a quick-tap free, which brought his style of refereeing back to mind. Through his commentary he actually prevents scrums collapsing. Subconsciously players hear his instructions and alter their behaviour. I remember gentle advice he gave me which had an immediate effect: “Crap tackle seven.”

As players are executing the play his guidance does improve the quality and this is evident in how he manages the frontrows before that first hit. A third option to assist referees would be a grab handle on the jersey akin to the lifting pads on lineout jumper’s legs. The modern tight jersey is far too difficult to find purchase in that split second of engage.

With scrummaging in my mind I recall way back in April 2004 when I witnessed Wasps’ 37 to 32 point victory over Munster in the Heineken Cup semi-final. While exiting the old Lansdowne Road I bumped into Anthony Foley and John Hayes who were shell-shocked and dejected by their loss. I got a feeling that they couldn’t take much more and that their time was nigh. Hayes was 31 years of age with lots of miles on the clock.

Seven years later he decides to call it a day! In the intervening years he has won two Celtic Leagues, two Heineken Cups, three Triple Crowns and a Grand Slam. He has also toured with the British and Irish Lions. I simply don’t know how he managed it because the law of the lever defies all Harty logic.