The morning after France beat Ireland in the opening game of the Six Nations, something entirely predictable happened. The rugby did not end with the final whistle. Instead, it carried on over coffee, inboxes, timelines and comment sections, where a familiar post-match ritual unfolded.
Suddenly, the match needed re-refereeing. Tries required forensic review. Decisions that stood perfectly well the night before were now apparently controversial. And, as if on cue, the discussion drifted beyond the game itself and into structural critiques of French rugby as a whole.
France, we were told, have too much depth. Too much choice. Too many professional teams. Perhaps, it was suggested, the Top 14 should be reduced to eight clubs for the good of the national side.
This is always an interesting moment in the Six Nations calendar, because it tends to occur only under very specific circumstances.
When Ireland were winning championships, Grand Slams and long unbeaten runs, the conversation sounded quite different. Squad depth was praised as a system working well. Competition for places was evidence of excellence. Tactical efficiency was lauded as intelligence rather than conservatism. Winning margins were applauded, not interrogated.
What changed was not the laws of the game or the standards of officiating. What changed was who won.
There is a long tradition in rugby of accepting victory when it feels familiar and questioning it when it feels inconvenient. France occupy a particular place in that tradition. Their wins are often treated as provisional, pending investigation. Their style is celebrated when it is romantic and scrutinised when it is effective.
The idea that France should limit their domestic league because it provides too many international options is a curious one. Depth is rarely framed as a problem until it belongs to someone else. No one seriously suggested that Ireland should restrict Leinster’s output during years of dominance, or that New Zealand had too many players to choose from in their prime. A strong system is only described as excessive when it disrupts the expected hierarchy.
What this reveals is not a concern for fairness or sporting balance. It reveals discomfort. Rugby nations grow used to certain narratives, and when those narratives are challenged, the instinct is to look for technicalities rather than acknowledge performance.
France did not win because of a refereeing oversight or a structural imbalance. They won because they played better on the day. That is not always a comfortable conclusion, but it is a simple one.
Post-match debate is part of the sport. It always will be. But there is a clear difference between analysis and reaction. One seeks to understand the game. The other seeks to explain away an outcome that people did not want.
When Ireland were winning, the victories were allowed to stand on their own merit. France deserve the same courtesy.
If rugby prides itself on respect, that respect has to extend beyond admiration in defeat. It also means accepting that sometimes the opposition were simply better, even when they have more players, more clubs and more options. And whichever bright spark dreamt this argument really needs to know their french club rugby – at least 50% of the national squad comes from Toulouse, with the other main players coming from UBB, Toulon, LaRochelle and a couple of other clubs.
French flair when it works well, is often the result of groups of players who know each other inside out from playing club rugby. Look at the forwards – most come from our ST family. The backs currently are dominated by UBB’s Jallibert, Meafou, LBB and Nicolas Depoortère…
