OPINION:
At the end of each club rugby season my provincial union sends out a survey for feedback. Each year, I write versions of the same thing; scheduling conflicts are making it difficult for people to participate, support and grow the game. What is true for me down at the grassroots will be true for the public this Saturday, being forced to choose between the Black Ferns quarter-final and an All Blacks test.
What this means for me in my community is that it is very difficult to coach schoolgirl rugby. With the pathway for schoolgirls to the clubhouse door being fairly overgrown, women in the game know the importance of trying to help their young sisters to navigate their way through. But in my hometown, schoolgirls play on the same day as our club side trains, setting up an impossible choice of either being routinely late to your own team run or leaving youngsters to their own devices and hoping that they make their way through.
For those who join the women’s team but have children, they also face scheduling conflicts. Women’s club rugby in Wellington has long kicked off on Saturdays at 11.30am. This leaves mums either turning up moments before kickoff having ferried their kids to their junior rugby games or unable to watch their children play. The worst-case scenario has these kids opt out of the game their mum loves to better suit the family roster.
Then there is the challenge of the club at large, offering their support. Many clubs will adopt a “one club” mantra, the idea being that every team turns out in support of each other. However, while women are encouraged to stay at the clubrooms all day to see the men play, fewer blokes are setting the alarm to get up and support their women. Frequently, too, the bar or kitchen won’t open until one of the men’s sides play and so “ladies a plate”, takes on a whole new meaning. I am yet to see a supporters bus organised to help local fans travel to support a women’s team; we BYO our sideline too.
These clashes aren’t limited to the community game, once players ascend they will find other barriers in their way. Take for example the time slots scheduled for some of those in our high-performance programmes. Frequently, gym access is scheduled around the professional men, not the amateur women who are trying to juggle multiple commitments. The semi-professional participants of the Super Rugby Aupiki tournament this year had just three days to reschedule their lives to be able to play in the rejigged inaugural tournament. Told to take it or leave it, the players simply had to fit into the schedule assigned to them.
Even if the Aupiki tournament had gone ahead as planned, it sits across the beginning of the club rugby season. Removing the players that hold the community game together, we are harvesting current talent without sowing the next crop. Is it any wonder then that my hometown had the lowest women’s participation rate in some time this year. We have all run out of mates we can bring and need a little help from the schedule. The natural home for the tournament, you would think, is at the end of the Farah Palmer Cup. Where talent is primed and ready to go and we have all had the joy of watching them aupiki (ascend).
When asked what my vision is for women and girls in rugby, I say it is that any girl who steps onto the pitch can see the path laid out for them in whatever direction they may choose to head. The success in this requires those at the top of the ladders to have an equally clear line of sight to that young talent to be able to guide her through. What is evident in all of these scheduling conflicts is that many in positions of power are still unable to see the overall picture, being solely focused on their one particular piece of the puzzle. That such mistakes can be made followed by paltry press releases is a grim reflection on the state of affairs. Many fans’ eyes will be opened to this reality. It’s about time New Zealand Rugby’s vision for women in the game was also checked.