Sevens Should Be About More Than Melrose

MORE THAN half a century ago, I was a proud, but very-junior member of Team Inglis – the hardy band of volunteers who, under the benign dictatorship of the late Tom Inglis, got Millbrae ready for the annual Ayr Sevens.

I enjoyed that, we all had our tasks, we turned up, got the job done, enjoyed the day, and the Sevens Dance afterwards. On the subject of that dance, it was having a very-expensive suit, worn for the first time, being ruined by a spilled pint, spilled by a Glasgow High School FP forward whose handling wasn't up to the task of carrying four pints, which kick-started my continuing dislike for certain denizens of Old Anniesland.

I digress. Sevens was good fun back then, when it was a familiar ingredient in a vibrant Scottish Rugby scene, today, the short game is Scottish Rugby's embarrassing distant cousin.

The way in which Melrose RFC has built its annual tournament into something akin to a Scottish Royal Ascot is admirable, kudos to them for making the annual “sports” one of those bucket list, “must-attend” occasions.

But, the fact is, compared to the HSBC/World Rugby Sevens Circuit, it's small beer indeed. Its diminished status on the calendar, long gone are the days when Rugby Union's stellar names strutted their stuff at The Greenyards on the second Saturday in April.

Scotland, via the Melrose club, invented Sevens, is it not yet another indictment on the toxic mismanagemnt of the Union by the current CEO and The Junta that not only does Scotland not host a leg on the World Sevens Circuit, we don't have an international Sevens squad – being instead, one-third of Team GB.

[I recognise that Scotland will most-likely only again have our own international Sevens squad, after we are again an Independent nation, and we have a Scottish Olympic Committee so we can compete as Scotland in the Olympic Games.]

I look at Golf, another game we gave to the world. In spite of the efforts of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to buy-up the professional game, regardless of the efforts of many in the USA to hype some of the newer events on the PGA Tour, the fact remains, the four “Majors” - The Open Championship, The US Open, The PGA Championship and The US Masters remain regarded as the most-important events.

Of these, The Masters is something on an anomaly, being very-much organised by an individual club, The Augusta National Golf Club. It is a pity Melrose could not be reinvigorated as Rugby Union's version of The Masters and put on the Wortld Rugby Circuit schedule, perhaps, hopefully even, as the final event.

Otherwise, is it not about time the SRU Junta removed their digits from their anuses and got Sevens organised properly, perhaps even (and here comes the left-field heretical statement) moving Melrose to be the final event – the big finale.

I HAVE already binge-watched the much-hyped Netflix series: Full Contact, which covers last season's Guinness Six Nations. Of course, as these series usually are, it's very personality-driven, and the definite star of the opening episode is oor ain Finn Russell, giving a display of gallusness which will be difficult to replicate, far less beat.

Being Finn, he came up with a provocative statement, likening himself to Lionel Messi. Not for me I am afraid Finn, I see him as more a latter-day Jim Baxter, except, unlike the Fife genius, Finn has a bit of common sense and control. Some of Finn's crossfield kick passes are reminiscent of Baxter at his best.

Baxter, of course, operated in an era well before social media; perhaps fortunately for him. Today, Finn makes a jocular, off the cuff remark and the internet implodes, that, I suppose is progress.

Finn had great support from England's Ellis Genge, who, in episode two came across as a far-more level-headed and likeable young man than some pieces from the English media have hiterto cast him. Bonus points too to Italy's Sebastian Negri, who, in the same episode revealed a back story I was previously unaware of. Negri is another impressive young man.

Ireland's Andrew Porter was the poster boy for episode three, alanother cracking story, although to be honest, he's not much of a singer. Again, he came across well, but, for me the big reveal was the Irish squad playing American Football in training; that explains all their forward passes then!!!

Gael Fickou then stepped up as the French poster boy, continuing the programme's pattern of focusing on players who didn't fit Rugby's stereotype of entitled public schoolboy stars. Again, an unlikely icon. I loved too, the contrast between Fabien Galthie and Shaun Edwards. The Frenchman, an absolute romantic, and the pragmatic, dour, former Rugby League player from “somewhere oop North”. An unlikely pairing, perhaps, but what a team. We even got a rare smile from Edwards.

Andy Farrell and Kieran Crowley also came across well, more-so than Owen Farrell, Marcus Smith. Steve Borthwick and Johnny Sexton. Blair Kinghorn also came over well, but Stuart Hogg's contributions I found less than impressive.

To me, the as usual and previously mentioned action of the producers focussing on who they thought were the big personalities was the series' big failing. There are other arguably better stories out there which they ignored. For instance, a big part of the appeal of the Six Nations is how it affects the most-important people involved – the supporters; there are a loty of gteat stories among that constituency, maybe they should seek them out for Series Two.

The Guardian's reviewer, a Michael Hogan, or as we perhaps should call him, Micahel Who? Wasn't impressed, giving the show two stars out of five. Perhaps this was down to the England contingent playing as well off the park as they did on it.

Well Mr Hogan, I wasn't impressed by your effort, at least you stuck to the London media's script and virtually ignored the Jocks. How anyone could review this show, and not mention The Finnster; words fail me.