Au revoir, then, Simon Zebo, the irrepressible free spirit late of Cork and Munster whose imminent move to France reignites the question of just how Irish the Ireland rugby team needs to be.
If Zebo, who has French heritage through his father, wants to go, then he is right. Like Dobbo, he hates to go but he must leave.
He’s 27 and has a young family and has maybe four or five years left at the peak of a professional life in a brutal sport. He’s been offered a chance to try a different living culture and sign a rugby contract with one of several French clubs who like the cut of his jib – and his tries-per-game ratio – and will at least double his annual earnings.
Bonne chance and it's hard to see how the IRFU can – or should – stop other internationals from following similar paths. When Jonny Sexton decided to sign for Racing in Paris, his ongoing involvement with Ireland was regarded as a necessary exception. The idea of Ireland playing Saturday afternoon Six Nations games and leaving its best and crankiest outhalf free to wander the Louvre just wouldn't have washed.
The Parisian adventure with Sexton was a mixed success: yes, it gave Ireland’s legions of new-rugby fans that fly-on-the-wall documentary chronicling the touching bromance between Sexton and his kicking coach and one-time Ireland number 10 rival Ronan O’Gara.
Against that, Ireland management and rugby fans were on tenterhooks for the entire season; it seemed as if Sexton couldn’t nip out to the boulangerie without some fiendishly built Frenchman knocking him for six.
But Zebo’s omission has made it clear that Sexton was indeed the exception that proves the rule. It’s the clearest signal that if they permit Irish players to play abroad it will provoke a flight of the Earls, the Furlongs and the other stars.
It’s a wilful policy. Leave aside, for a moment, the constant tug-of-control between clubs and international set-ups over players. If Zebo ends up clearing out Sexton’s old locker at Racing – which may well be the case – he is a short plane hop away from Dublin. There is no reason why he couldn’t still be involved.
That Zebo’s exile coincides with the first appearance of Bundee Aki in an Irish squad has further clouded the issue. There has been much comment that Aki’s presence and Zebo’s exclusion doesn’t sit well. But Bundee Aki’s arrival is the culmination of some careful planning by the IRFU. His provincial contract was due to expire in July of this year, just three months short of his eligibility for Ireland selection under the residency rule.
Electrifying form
His electrifying form in the 2016 season had attracted attention among club coaches in England of France. For the IRFU, the equation was simple: use him or lose him. Performance director David Nucifora couldn't have made Ireland's intentions any clearer in July 2016: "We'll be trying to keep him here to play his rugby in Ireland. He'll be closer to being eligible for Ireland – if that's what his motivation is."
Aki signed and here he is, joining the growing stable of foreign Irish internationals. There is no question that the inclusion of such quality greatly deepens the potency of the international squad. When you watch CJ Stander play for Munster or Ireland now, one question springs to mind: how did South Africa let this guy go?
Brian O’Driscoll was among those who admitted to feeling unease at the three -year residency rule through which Stander made the transition from new arrival to full international.
When World Rugby extended the residency rule to five years in May, Agustin Pichot declared it an “historic moment for sport” which would “protect the integrity, ethos and stature of international rugby.”
The statement was a de facto admission that the three year ruling compromises that integrity.
But how does making a rugby professional stick with the one country for an added two years make him more Irish apart from maybe getting what people mean by a “ soft day” and understanding why Ireland has such conflicted feelings towards Bono.
Anyone who watched the recent documentary on the late Anthony Foley was probably struck by the thoughtfulness and sincerity of CJ Stander’s contribution. Stander is a professional sportsman; he is talent for hire. But it was clear that he simply ‘got’ the Munster way and brought into the Thomond preservation of the old, club-era virtues of fraternity, equality and merciless slagging. He seemed as much a part of Munster as any of the guys who spoke in Cork or Limerick accents.
It stands to reason that he brings the same attitude and integrity to his role within the Ireland camp; that he has become, by virtue of becoming an integral part of that team, also an integral part of the cause.
People are emotional creatures: if Stander is wearing a green shirt in the Aviva and listening to the Irish anthem belted out at Yellow Warning windspeed of emotion, you can bet he is going to feel pretty much the same as the guy further down the line who was born and bred in Cork.
The same will be true of Aki, whose absorption into the rain-soaked joys of Galway has been a spectacular success. He is among Connacht’s most popular players. Have no doubt that these players will give their hearts for Ireland and will hurt as much as the players born and raised here. It’s just – they weren’t born and raised here. You are either okay with that or you aren’t.
Bigger issue
No, the residency rule is what it is: an expedient piece of legislation by the unions to make sure that international-calibre players deemed surplus to requirements by their own country can be used to help their cause. It’s never the players’ fault for making the most of those rules.
The bigger issue is whether the IRFU stay-to-play issue is fair on its Irish stars
The logic is plain to see; keeping Irish players at home will help to keep the provinces strong and, obviously, it makes the job of the Ireland coach more manageable for whoever is in charge.
But it also places a huge restriction on Ireland’s best players from making the most of their rugby prowess during what is a relatively short career and one that is always just one bad tackle or one more concussion removed from being over.
You often hear of players retiring because of concussive issues or wrecked bodies. The rugby public feels bad for them for about as long as it takes the kettle to boil. Then they get excited about who the new signing might be.
This IRFU policy holds the gun to the heads of Irish players. It' s not malicious, of course and is designed to protect the home game. It's a dilemma for as Bernard Jackman said of Zebo during the week: "If you let one go and pick him, it becomes a trickle".
That is probably true and suggests other Irish players are opting to stay with their provinces merely to keep their Irish careers alive.
However, if six or seven of the best decide to go, then the tables turn. If at some stage over the next few seasons players like Conor Murray, Tadhg Furlong, and Ultan Dillane end up leaving, they will hold the power. And they could organise it over a Whatsapp group or a craft ale at Jamie’s place.
Exile for foreign-based stars may be the smartest policy. But it is not the fairest. Leaving Zebo out just means Ireland is down an adventurous, sunlit fleet-footed rugby winger with an impish grin and an arse like Kenny Dalglish. Ireland doesn’t produce many dudes like that.
It’s an unsustainable policy based on fear and ultimately the players will have the power to call the shots.
