ON RUGBY:Why on earth have it so that the only people in the dark are the ones who actually make the decisions?

THE CONCEPTS of cheating/bending the rules (dilute to taste) and use of video technology has, it seems, become quite topical in recent days. In the light of le main de Dieu, rugby union, rugby league, tennis, cricket, American Football and pretty much all sports bar tiddlywinks have been held up as examples for football to follow. And, it seems, for Sepp Blatter and Fifa, this is hard to swallow.

As with the concept of cheating, this is not to say that rugby union is a paragon of sense any more than it is a paragon of virtue. But if a sport is in doubt, then why not trial a pilot scheme, even with limitations such as a maximum number of challenges?

As a spin-off, football might even see “diving”, to gain penalties at any rate, almost eradicated overnight.

Rugby has an advantage, of course, in that the play has stopped when a referee calls for the video.

In relative terms, TMOs are still in their infancy in rugby union, having been introduced to the Magners League, for example, only two seasons ago, and the IRB will shortly review their use.

TMOs were first used in South Africa in 2000 with, at times, risible results. In the South Africa-England series there was a penalty try that never was, and a try to the Springboks in Bloemfontein which ought, by rights, have been credited to a Mr Invisible.

Eventually, everyone else went with the flow, but even to this day it is by no means a perfect system. Indeed, ironically, tries are now sometimes not awarded that would have been given in the pre-TMO days, and vice versa. The use of video technology is not always perfect, simply because the sheer numbers of players contesting possession in many try-scoring incidents makes the TMO’s task considerably more difficult than that of the referee.

Hence, being “seen” to score a try has become an art in itself. There were countless examples of attacking mauls piling over the line in the pre-TMO days when referees felt duty bound to award a try without a proper viewing of the ball being touched down. One thinks of Brive piling bodies into a late maul to beat Pontypridd in the first of their three grudge matches in 1997-98. Admittedly, the referee’s compunction to award the try may partly have been born out of a desire to get out of the Parc Municipal alive. He probably had his car engine running.

Very often, no number of camera angles can prove a try has been scored even if it has been. Furthermore, defenders now pile in on top of try-scoring incidents like never before simply to obscure camera angles for the inevitable “time-out” to follow.

Viewed in that light, some referees and their assistants have become a tad lazy in not backing their instincts. That, perhaps, was always liable to be the case. If in any doubt, why not be certain?

And the clue can be in the question. The referee can ask: “Can you confirm if a try has been scored, yes or no?” This places more responsibility on the TMO to see the ball being grounded. Or he can inquire: “Is there any reason why I can’t award a try?”

The novelty factor has also worn off, and on occasion, when used three or four times in a match, the use of video technology can also become wearisome.

Hence, there are still some traditionalists, even among the refereeing fraternity, who would favour the scrapping of TMOs and let human error take its course.

There are still arguments for the use of TMOs to be extended to how they are used in rugby league, whereby TMOs can be asked to refer all the way back to the origins of the try-scoring move. This can seem a mite tedious and, one ventures, might make a referee become even lazier. Trialled in South Africa, it actually added 32 minutes to one game. Thanks, but no thanks.

Yet, overall, TMOs have been beneficial if only because justice has been seen to be done more often than not. The delays still, by and large, add to the drama, and previously undetected knock-ons, a failure to ground the ball properly or a foot in touch have been revealed on repeat, slow-motion viewings.

They can happen on the biggest of occasions, such as, ironically, the World Cup final in the Stade de France two years ago. Only video technology could have shown than Mark Cueto’s trailing left boot grazed the paint on the touchline before grounding the ball – a harsh call but technically a correct one, which, most importantly of all, left little or no room for argument afterwards.

Most of all though, perfectly legitimate tries have been awarded where before they wouldn’t have been. Oh that Chris White and his touchjudge Steve Lander had had recourse to a TMO in Lille when they denied John O’Neill his legitimate touchdown in Munster’s 16-15 Heineken Cup semi-final defeat to Stade Francais in 2001!

Of all the countless other examples since then, just take Brian O’Driscoll’s impersonation of a mole in Cardiff last March. Eagle-eyed though Wayne Barnes was, one seriously doubts whether the English official could have felt comfortable enough in his own skin to award that try without recourse to a TMO. Imagine the furore if that score hadn’t been awarded, Ireland had missed out on the Grand Slam and O’Driscoll’s “try” had been replayed ad nauseum afterwards.

Alternatively, without a TMO, what can be a really good, strong performance by a referee over 79-and-a-half minutes (or 119-and-a-half?) is then ruined by one fleeting inability to see something which leaves him scarred for the rest of his career – if he still has one.

And if a referee’s decision is going to be scrutinised in television studios afterwards, all the more so to prove they were wrong, then why not grant the poor official the same technological advantages that the commentators, pundits and viewers have within 30 seconds?

Why on earth have it that the only people in the dark are the ones who actually make the decisions?

Ultimately, it really is a no-brainer.