The views expressed by Israel Folau and Billy Vunipola do not represent the rugby community, our ethos, ethics or values. They are not us.
Rugby's ongoing support for former Wales captain Gareth Thomas and our exceptional referee Nigel Owens, both gay men thriving in rugby, is a testimony to rugby's inclusive culture.
Placing the psychological fear of going to hell, into the minds of young people is a horrible thing to do.
As a boy growing up in a very Catholic family we were indoctrinated that missing Mass or having sex before marriage would result in burning for eternity.
We were told that hell awaited us much more forcefully than Folau’s tweets. Week after week, year after year, at our school and at Mass we were indoctrinated. Indoctrination is an abomination. It destroys reason.
As ridiculous as it sounds, in the mind of a 13-year-old, the fear was very real.
A shag and missing Mass was to be damned for all time. Well, at least I’d be with lots of my friends.
At my rugby club in Sydney, we had a huge variety of faiths, beliefs, nationalities and cultures. Greek Orthodox, Catholic, Protestant, Episcopalian, agnostics, Jews and atheists.
Doctors, carpenters, lawyers, plumbers, policemen, teachers, the unemployed and petty criminals all played together.
Fijians, Maori, Samoans, Tongans, Asians, English, Irish, New Zealanders, Yugoslavians, Italians, Argentinians, we all combined to make our club.
There was a gay man as well. Like Thomas, he was on a long journey to come out and tell us. It took many years but like the Welsh teams’ support for Thomas, we supported our mate.
We did not care he was gay, we only wished he would have told us years earlier so his pain and stress would have been lessened. We loved him because of him. He was and is our friend.
Across the rugby world, that story is not unique.
If you are a part of the LGBTQI community, please do not listen to Folau or Vunipola. They do not speak for rugby.
If you want to play rugby, go down to your local club and you will find community, friendship and inclusiveness. Bring along your sense of humour because it’s fun, but you will not be judged on your sexuality.
Now, here is the part where I need your compassion.
I am overwhelmed with sadness by the atmosphere of deep hatred generated by this issue that is engulfing our community. Hatred towards Folau and Vunipola.
Our rugby community has fallen into the trap of answering hate with more hate. The actions and words from some supporters from both sides, at the Munster game against Saracens, were vile.
Folau’s and Vunipola’s words cannot be justified but neither can acts of abuse, hatred or violence towards them.
I have compassion for them. Compassion does not mean agreement. In this instance, compassion means I understand their ignorance.
Yelling hatred toward Vunipola every time he gets the ball makes us no better than him. We need to be above that.
If the rugby media allows itself to be manipulated and focus on Vunipola as we move towards the Champions Cup final, we will be creating an echo chamber for his views and encouraging the horrid “mob mentality” witnessed last weekend.
Distressed
On Easter Sunday evening, after the wonderful atmosphere during Leinster’s great win over Toulouse, I was walking along Baggot Street, towards my hotel. There were blue flags and Toulouse jerseys all over the footpaths.
In the confusion, a young woman in a very distressed state came towards me and begged for money. I dropped a few coins into her cup. It was the conviction in her voice when she thanked me that made me stop and talk. She was truly desperate.
She was both groomed and dishevelled. Her clothes had quality but it was obvious she had been sleeping rough but was new to the street.
She told me her name, but let’s call her Clare. It was a tale of mental illness, the death of her parents and the loss of employment.
She was highly agitated as she spoke to me. I gave her a few euro and told her to go buy some food. She looked at me with real fear in her eyes. “I need to find a shelter before I can eat.” She quickly turned to look for the next potential donation. No food and no bed.
Thirty metres on as I waited for the lights to change at the corner, I glanced back at Clare. I could see the deep fear in her body language as she hunched over her paper cup pleading for a few coins from the passersby.
I watched as society walked past Clare as if she did not exist. A broken ghost.
Yet we have so much discussion, energy, resources and time to hate two foolish and ignorant rugby players. Selective caring. This is one very stuffed up world.
It’s not just Folau and Vunipola who have lost their way. The rugby community must find a way to address this issue without violence, abuse or hatred.
Hate is easy. Israel and Billy have proven that.
Clare will tell you compassion is very difficult to find.
And by the way, hell exists. It’s down by Baggot Street. Clare is living in it.
