2023-10-05 05:44:00
On the occasion of the “Rendez-vous de l’histoire”, which are held in Blois from October 4 to 8, the editorial staff of Libération invites around thirty historians to take a different look at current events. Find this special issue on newsstands Thursday October 5 and all the articles from this edition in this file.
After his match on September 21 against Namibia, for the third day of the World Cup, the captain of the France team, Antoine Dupont, underwent surgery for a maxillofacial fracture. The plates that were immediately placed on him to strengthen his jaw should allow him to return to competition. If the fervent supporter that I am is delighted with this feat, she also cannot help but feel a little dizzy in the face of what this says about the body of rugby players.
I have loved rugby since my childhood. My father played rugby; at 1.80 m and 80 kg, he started as a winger at Pamiers before completing his journey as a modest amateur in the Paris region in the 1970s, as a prop. We went to see it as a family on Sunday afternoons: in the slanting light of autumn, the biting cold of winter or the smell of crushed grass in spring, men of mismatched sizes practiced a mixture of ball game and tricks under an intermittent shower of encouragement or invective. I played there too, in Chilly-Mazarin, when there were only a dozen women’s rugby teams in France. Here again, the format of the recruits was random, and the distribution of positions was often done by default: the tallest were designated second line, the strongest pillars and for the rest, it was according to character and abilities; I had a medium size but speed, so I was given jersey no. 12: a beautiful jersey in thick cotton, padded at the shoulders, floats of tightly woven canvas, capable of boiling every Sunday evening.
Modest measurements and socks at half mast
The great teams also showed disparate and sometimes improbable formats, cleverly used. At home, we supported Béziers, which was at the forefront of modern rugby with its formats and its fairly approximate definition of amateurism. But looking at the images of matches from the 70s and 80s, I am struck by the heterogeneity of the bodies, their athletic imperfection; their humanity in short. We were waiting for the exchange of jerseys at the end of the match, which exposed the anatomy… with the muscles, a little stomach here, some slack there; lots of mustaches, a few sideburns and long hair: nothing very different from what one could see while walking in the street. In 1994 again, France could win against the All Blacks with a winger, Philippe Saint-André, nicknamed “the pig”, a number 10, Christophe Deylaud, with modest measurements (1.74 m for 75 kg) and socks at half-mast, or an Olivier Merle in the second row, late to elite rugby but whose extraordinary size had led to him being baptized “the man and a half”. A photographer, Catherine Cabrol, had also produced in 1995 a beautiful book of black and white portraits, Les Hommes du Quinze, of these diverse samples of a virility not exempt, sometimes, from gentleness.
Professionalization has changed things, already in the making. Bodybuilding has been there, dietetics too, maybe a little biochemistry. The formats began to align from the top: how could it be otherwise when New Zealand winger Jonah Lomu, who debuted in 1994, weighed 120 kg for 1.92 m and ran the 100 m in less than 11 seconds? The three-quarters began to resemble third rows, the scrum-halves gained in width what they could not gain (too much) in size; and if the pillars remained the soft kind, these beautiful babies have, by virtue of the laws of kinetics, added speed to mass. Bodies now say more about the prodigious work that has been imposed on them than about the lotteries of heredity or the life paths that made them unique; they become homogenized. The morphological categories which were superimposed on the positions can still be guessed at – just look at the teams lined up for the anthems – but they are more vague, more floating, as if scrambled. We gained in speed, in impact, in playing time, in spectacularity; we have somewhat forgotten that the aim of rugby is to sometimes pass between men, not necessarily to rush straight into them; and increased the number of concussions.
Supercharged meat versus dented carcasses
The “looks” have changed. There was the sad era of shaved heads, commando style; fortunately followed by the return of sideburns, long hair or beards (thank you Chabal!), which put a welcome touch of slovenliness and picturesqueness on these too-perfect bodies, now hypermolded in synthetic fiber swimsuits which, when we takes off, revealing nothing other than a second jersey to the enamored fans. What does it matter? In the 2000s, rugby players began posing naked, first for fun, then in an increasingly depressing display of supercharged and supposedly sexy meat; a challenge taken up with a saving humor by modest rugby clubs from below, who did not hesitate to display their battered and muddy carcasses full page. The globalization of rugby was noted by the proliferation of tattoos, in a tribute, voluntary or not, to Maori warriors. But fortunately – except perhaps among the Anglo-Saxons – we rarely see these absurd haircuts which distinguish football stars and dismay my hairdresser. Nor have these baroque shows of hyperbolic pain at the slightest contact, or of indecent pride when we have scored, migrated from the round ball to the oval ball. The rugby player remains sober of his body, in pain as in joy – unlike his supporter, who knows how to stand in the stands, even with a pint in hand.
No mistake: if I allow myself a little nostalgia, I continue to love rugby without reservation. Who would shy away from their pleasure in the face of the debauchery of power, of virtuosity displayed in the Cup, in front of the chisteras of a Jalibert, the precision of a Ramos, the speed of a Penaud, the caramels of an Aldritt, the scratchings of a Mauvaka? I continue to love rugby, this aptly named “school of life”, and what is played out in eighty minutes, because even if bodies change, even if they become almost indestructible and hyper-efficient, it will remain always to decide between these athletes the indispensable valor, intelligence of the game and flair, courage and humility, audacity and self-sacrifice; qualities that are valuable well beyond the stadiums, and which stand the test of time.
So, Antoine, take good care of yourself and come back and make us dream, when you can.
#physical #drives #mechanics #Libération