In rugby, incidents on the pitch often get judged in seconds, but the conversations afterwards tend to last far longer. One moment a national player goes in for a tackle with an elbow, and suddenly the discussion is not just about the action itself but about fairness, bias, and what people think they are seeing.
In this case, the conversation shifted quickly; from someone who had sent me a picture of themselves with the above player. As soon as I mentioned the red card the followed on from the incident during a 6 Nations match, they brought up another incident involving an eye gouge involving another player, describing it as disgusting, which is a natural reaction given how serious that kind of act is in rugby. My reply was more measured, pointing out that judgement depends on context and that instinctive reactions under provocation are part of human biology, even if they are still unprofessional.
What happened next is where things become psychologically interesting. Instead of staying on the behaviour itself, the response turned into: “you only take the other person’s side because he’s good looking and a friend of a friend.” That is not really about rugby anymore, it’s about how people defend their view of someone they already want to protect.
In psychology terms, this is often linked to motivated reasoning. When someone identifies with a player or group, they tend to interpret information in a way that keeps that loyalty intact. If a friend or someone they admire is being criticised, it can feel uncomfortable, so the mind looks for an alternative explanation that avoids changing the opinion of that friend.
Another layer is cognitive dissonance. If you believe your mate is fundamentally a good person, but you are faced with behaviour that looks bad, there is mental tension. One way to reduce that tension is not to reassess the behaviour, but to question the credibility or motivation of the person pointing it out. It is easier to say “you are biased” than to sit with “my mate may have crossed a line.”
This shows up in sport constantly, but it is not limited to sport. The same pattern appears in business and everyday life.
In a workplace, a manager might ignore clear poor performance from a high-status employee because they are well-liked or influential, while questioning the judgement of someone who raises concerns. In friendships, people will often defend behaviour they would criticise in a stranger. In business deals, loyalty to a known partner can outweigh objective assessment of risk. This happened to me last year when I drew a founder’s attention to false statements made by a consultant they wanted to bring on board – I was described as “having a vendetta” by the consultant and they founder ended up giving them paid work.
The key point is that instinct and logic are both active, but they are not equally dominant in every situation. Instinct tends to protect relationships and group belonging. Logic tends to evaluate actions more neutrally. When those two come into conflict, people often default to whatever preserves social alignment.
In the rugby example, there are actually three separate layers that got mixed together. First, the action on the pitch. An elbow in a tackle is a disciplinary issue because it creates danger in a controlled competitive environment. Any player going in with an elbow is intentional.
Second, the reaction to another incident. An eye gouge is widely regarded as one of the most serious offences in rugby, so the emotional response to that is immediate and strong. I was not questioning that.
Third, the interpretation of commentary. This is where bias gets introduced, because people are no longer discussing the act itself but the perceived motivations of the person speaking.
Once the conversation moves into motivation guessing, it stops being about rugby laws and starts being about identity and trust.
The important distinction is that biology can explain why reactions happen quickly under pressure, but it does not excuse or rewrite what happened. Similarly, loyalty can explain why people defend friends, but it does not change the nature of the act being judged.
What often gets lost in these discussions is that both things can be true at the same time. A reaction can be instinctive and understandable in human terms, while still being against the rules. A judgement can feel biased to one person, while still being based on a legitimate reading of events.
Sport tends to compress all of this into a few seconds of action. Conversations afterwards stretch it into psychology, loyalty, and interpretation. That gap is usually where disagreement starts, not because people are seeing completely different events, but because they are weighting instinct, rules, and relationships differently.
To bring it back to the actual exchange, the final part of the conversation followed a pattern that is easy to recognise once you strip it down because the expectation appeared to be escalation. The tone and repetition suggested an attempt to provoke a more emotional response which I did not give them. My response stayed consistent and limited to the same position: harmful intent in a tackle is negative behaviour, regardless of who does it.
Even when the question was reframed as “so you hate anyone who goes in with an elbow,” the reply did not move. It stayed on the same point, stated in neutral terms, without expanding into personal judgement or getting pulled into the wording of “hate.” When challenged again with “you didn’t answer my question,” my response was simply repeated. No change in position, no escalation.
At that stage, an explanation was added around basic biology. Not as an excuse for behaviour, but as context. The core idea is straightforward. When the brain perceives a threat, the amygdala activates quickly. It processes emotional and survival-related signals and can trigger a rapid physical response before slower, deliberative parts of the brain are fully engaged. The prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for reasoning and control, operates on a slightly slower pathway. Under pressure or perceived threat, its influence can be reduced. That is why reactions can occur before full conscious evaluation.
This is not a theory that removes responsibility. It is a description of sequence. Fast response first, slower evaluation after. In trained environments such as professional sport, individuals are expected to regulate that response, which is why instinct does not excuse foul play. It only explains how quickly certain reactions can occur.
The reply to that explanation was “I know about science,” followed by resistance when I tried to move the subject onto education. The shift there is notable. The discussion moved away from the original topic entirely and into perceived tone and status. “My education doesn’t need to be patronised” reframes the interaction again, away from the behaviour being discussed and toward personal positioning.
At that point, the pattern is complete. The original subject, a tackle involving an elbow and a comparison with a separate incident, has been replaced by a series of deflections. The behaviour is no longer being analysed. Instead, the focus is on reframing the other person’s intent, questioning their motives, and resisting any line of discussion that might require reassessing the initial stance.
This is not unusual. It is a common way conversations shift when agreement is unlikely. One person maintains a fixed position based on rules and observable behaviour. The other protects a prior view, often by redirecting the discussion away from the original act.
What remains consistent is the structure. The action on the pitch is one thing. The interpretation of that action is another. The conversation about it can become something else entirely.
I love a healthy debate, but labouring the point gets yawnsville…
