The situation at Aviva Stadium sparked several concerns from the public earlier this week. Many expressed frustration about the scarcity of Six Nations rugby match tickets and observed the invasion of games by “inebriated posh lads”, saying it was ruining the environment and ticket acquisition was far too challenging.
It was suggested that too many tickets were going to people who weren’t perceived as ‘true supporters’. These ‘true supporters’ supposedly dislike the idea of people purchasing beverages during game time and anticipate a more appealing atmosphere. Therefore, they believe tickets should exclusively be distributed to these ‘true fans’.
One individual urged the IRFU to refrain from turning these sporting events into spectacles, calling for stronger support from genuine fans who understand the sport and want to passionately back their team.
These are intense feelings that can’t be disregarded, even though many might disagree with the sentiment or the defining ideas surrounding what makes a ‘true fan’. The concept of a ‘true fan’ seems to exist only as an idealistic build-up in people’s minds.
A ‘true fan’ could be a woman queuing for a drink as the players rearrange themselves for a third reset scrum, or a tense, agitated fan frustrated because they missed the ‘engage’ as someone required a pint. There’s irritation, of course, but where does the anger stem from?
Rugby needs to welcome all kinds of ‘true fans’ and the IRFU financially benefits greatly from the ongoing sales at the bar during Six Nations matches. The revenue generated certainly adds to the players’ wages who the real fans support with great exaltation.
Many tickets are purchased by clubs, and arguably, could there be more devout fans than those who play and manage the game nationwide? The clubs resell these tickets to generate funds, which get reinvested into the sport. This process is crucial for the rugby economy and contributes to Ireland’s financial framework, ensuring the sport’s quality that people are willing to watch and pay for.
The role of a ‘committed fan’ and the prevalence of ‘fan-shaming’ is an interesting topic currently under discussion. When one opts for a chat with the person next to them instead of closely following the match, they are immediately labelled as a ‘non-fan’. Hence, any onset of chatter at the Aviva Stadium is immediately put down to the ‘phony fans’, and not the underperforming team on the pitch, in this case, the Irish team.
It’s a strange notion that if an event becomes uninteresting and lacks atmosphere, the blame falls on the ticket buyers, not the team they came to see. Interestingly, this blame game doesn’t apply to Bruce Springsteen’s performance.
The absence of fan-shaming was notably clear, when Ireland triumphed over the All Blacks with a 16-9 score in 2018 at Aviva, or when Ireland beat England 29-16 to secure a Grand Slam on the 18th of March last year, as fans were fully engaged.
Labelling someone a ‘true fan’ in the context of rugby is a misconception, as it creates a ranking system among fans. This fails to recognise the multitude of reasons for people showing up to cheer for Ireland in the championship, and the intricate processes they undergo to secure a ticket. A case in point is the gentleman, who sponsors a club and in return, gets a ticket. This sponsorship is utilised by the club to buy rugby kits for Sunday morning mini rugby sessions.
Backing the Irish rugby team and the sport itself, extends well beyond the confines of the rugby field, and integrates intricately with society, economy, and culture. It comprises a complex intertwining of varied individuals and motivations. It’s not essential for ticket holders to understand technical rugby terminology like an illegal bind or drift defence, and yet many of them don’t. The idea that rugby exists solely within its own isolated sphere is greatly simplistic.
However, it would be intriguing to implore rugby to define its target fan category and exclusively reserve tickets for them. Would love to hear that response. A more feasible and fair approach, though, might be to consistently question the IRFU’s balance between its supporting community and the commercialism that fuels it.
True rugby enthusiasts can be found everywhere. They could be the ones holding corporate tickets or the players themselves, coupled with their partners, who are drawn as much to the excitement and spectacle of the event as well as the game itself.
A ‘true enthusiast’ is not merely a stereotypical purist of rugby, but they all share a common factor. They all have their unique ways in which they express their support for the sport.
Their support could manifest through enjoying a pint or two at a local pub before the match, or having a couple more at Aviva in the midst of the game and possibly a reserved table at Roly’s post-match. Finally, heading home by Dart. Since when has this not been a legitimate portrayal of a rugby enthusiast’s encounter?