Tackles, tries and total mayhem — welcome to Rugby Skool with Daron Mann

Ever wondered what happens when 30 athletes engage in a contest where the rules are optional and tackling is a language of love?

Welcome to Rugby Skool, your guide to a sport that often resembles a bar fight with a ball. 

It’s a glorious, chaotic mess where the participants chase an egg-shaped ball for 80 minutes, all the while beating the bejaysus out of each other before sharing a beer and singing bawdy songs together once it’s all over. Why? Pride, mostly. And that beer. Oh, and also, it beats staying home and doing chores on weekends.

Picture this: a field, about 100m long and 60m wide, with H-shaped goalposts. Two teams of 15 er, um, “athletes” try to score points by carrying, kicking or passing (backwards only, because rugby loves chaos) the ball towards their opponent’s goalline in order to score a “try”. 

A try is worth five points. Every try is followed by a conversion attempt (a kick at the H-shaped goalposts) which earns an extra two points if it goes over. 

And then there are penalty kicks. These are kicks that add three points (obviously!) if they go through the posts. Penalties are awarded by referees when players misbehave and break the rules. Plot twist: penalties can happen at any given moment because no one REALLY knows what the rules are. Oh, and there’s also something called a “drop goal” that scores three points, but we’ll cover those in a later lesson.

Rugby’s charm lies in its unique blend of brute force and bizarre etiquette. You’ll see 150kg giants hugging in a scrum, before politely apologising for physically assaulting someone and then being told off for it like a naughty schoolboy by a 5-foot-5, finger-wagging, whistle-wielding referee with the authority of a tiny dictator in shorts. It’s like if WWE and a tea party had a baby. 

Warning: the first time you watch it, you’ll think it’s just organised anarchy. Stick with it. By game three, you’ll be yelling at the ref like a pro.

Note: When we say “rugby” we mean Rugby Union, not Rugby League – a watered-down derivative of our great game played by teams of 13 a side sans scrums. League appeals mostly to people who find scrums confusing or just like running in straight lines.

Next time, we’ll decode that thing called the scrum – think human Jenga with extra sweat and testosterone. For now, grab a pint, watch a match and embrace the insanity. Rugby doesn’t make sense, but neither does love. DM