“Poussez, poussez, poussez!”
The enthusiastic hype man on the Stade de France PA system was asking the capacity crowd to practise shouting “push” ahead of any scrums or mauls in last Thursday’s Six Nations opener. To be fair to the Parisian faithful, the preparation paid off. Upon the game’s first scrum, deep inside the Irish 22, “poussez” was indeed belted out. Three times, no less.
Social media was not short of Irish journalists fortunate enough to be at the Stade de France posting clips expressing admiration for the atmosphere. “The French do it right”, or something along those lines, was the sentiment.
This is the time of year when we read familiar complaints about an apparent lack of crackle among the Aviva Stadium’s rugby-watching population. Paper space is consumed by the topic because it so vexes the masses. That and the reliably healthy page views...
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We are, though, sick of the complaining. Nine days after intrepid Irish reporters took in Saint Denis in all its glory, we might as well figure out what makes the French so, well, French about their rugby atmospheres. The IRFU is constantly tinkering with crowd-engagement ideas – some gimmicky, others not bad. They are aware of their Lansdowne Road problem.
What, if anything, can be learned from the French?
Well, you can discount the “poussez” idea. The English-language rugby-vernacular equivalent would involve paying some poor fella to count to three and ask the crowd to shout “heave” half-an-hour before kick-off.
Would ye stop.
There were other PA-led chants in Paris. Allez les Bleus, obviously. The chief cheerleader had another favourite, serenading us slowly with the start of a familiar refrain, gathering speed as the crowd joined in before leaving them at it.
“Qui ne saute pas n’est pas Français - ey, ey.” It translates, roughly, as “Whoever doesn’t jump isn’t French”. It’s an activity as much as a chant – something which certainly adds to both spectacle and atmosphere. Think football’s Poznan except you don’t turn your back on the pitch.
Are Irish rugby fans going to be doing the bouncy any time soon? Next question.
The IRFU has tried a bit of prodding. Last November, former Ireland international Barrt Murphy sung both The Fields of Athenry and Zombie shortly before kick-off. The latter, in particular (against South Africa), seemed to do a decent job of waking up the crowd. The first scrum of that disastrous game quickly killed the buzz. Atmospheres sometimes are dependent on successful teams – and French rugby is thriving.
South Africa being a night game no doubt also helped. Yes, late kick-offs are a pain for travel, but they do create significantly better atmospheres. God help anyone trying to stir up a crowd ahead of this Saturday’s graveyard shift at 2.10pm.
A huge part of the occasion in Paris was the use of lighting. The main lights were killed as alternatives blasted out their tricolour right in view of the player tunnel. Fireworks, and plenty of them, launched forth, the FFR taking the view that there is no such thing as too many pyrotechnics. The area where the players lined up for the anthems was cordoned off by a rectangle of flames. This was very cool, if you’ll pardon the choice of descriptive word. It added an additional spotlight by creating something reminiscent of a boxing ring, a small area to heighten attention. It was an arena, not a pitch.
All of the above goes out the window when it’s not dark.
The other decision which worked brilliantly in Paris was to kill the PA midway through the anthem. La Marseillaise is a belter, probably the best offering in the competition (closely followed by Wales). Scotland have, for years, dropped the bagpipes and let the crowd do the heavy lifting when singing about Edward being sent home do some thinking.
It may well be sacrilegious to ask the Garda Band to pipe down, but would this have a similar effect at the Aviva? We have two whole anthems. The musicians can still earn their keep with Amhrán na bhFiann (fewer people sing that one anyway). Leave the crowd alone to belt out the “Ireland, Ireland” bit of the second anthem. It’s worth a go.
If it hasn’t already, this exercise has strayed into the realm of the ridiculous. Which is inevitable. Atmospheres are, for the most part, organic, unquantifiable things. The second you start dissecting or analysing, something which relies almost wholly on ‘coolness’ becomes decidedly uncool.
Are wounded Ireland vulnerable to an Italian job?
Shameless copying also earns that status. Find what might work and what definitely won’t. Shouting “push” pre-match doesn’t fly in English. Asking fans to bounce up and down delighting in their Irishness is unlikely to be a winner. Letting the crowd sing the anthem alone or investing in a spectacular light show seems more replicable.
For those of you screaming at the page, “What about the corporates?”, here you go. The nature of the crowd at Six Nations games is an inescapable factor. The practice of rugby clubs targeting the corporate market to maximise revenue from ticket sales has been covered in depth. The cost of tickets also lends itself to an older and, generally speaking, quieter crowd. There is only so much the IRFU can do, given they have largely made their bed with the implicit decision to maximise ticket revenue over in-ground sizzle.
I have no idea if those at the Stade were, on average, younger than those who will come through the turnstiles at Lansdowne Road. Some tickets on the FFR website went for €30 last week, others were €200. They’re at the expensive nonsense too.
Moaning at the IRFU’s approach should, in fairness, be paired with self-awareness. We are a deeply cynical people. So much so that any initiative that has been tried has been met with some degree of outrage. If the Aviva announcer asked you to chant back the second name of the starters, as they did in Paris, would you join in or cringe? Your answer will reveal plenty.
The key, ultimately, is to find something which kind of works and stick to it. Consistency.
When Leinster first asked Mike McCarthy and Leo the Lion to do the Viking clap before their home matches, there were sniggers aplenty. There still are when non-Leinster folk see this blatant copying of the Iceland football team and the NFL’s Minnesota Vikings.
It is, objectively, a bit cringey. Regardless, McCarthy and co clap without a care in the world. Good on them. They enjoy themselves while, crucially, creating a bit of noise.
We’ll never be France. They have rugby ultras, for crying out loud. When Bordeaux travelled to Bristol recently, they had plenty of lads leading the charge at Ashton Gate, far too busy beating drums to notice the actual rugby – just like football. There is too much shame in this country for that sort of carry-on.
However, if some cynicism is suspended, should reluctant fans meet our IRFU overlords in the middle when presented with an initiative that isn’t altogether mortifying, then perhaps there is a thing or two we can learn from our Gallic neighbours.
