Why English club rugby can never be like thriving French scene

Exeter and Rennes, freshly twinned in jumelage, gathered in Devon in April 1960 for a festival of ten sports. There was a football game at St James Park, the home of Exeter City, because both cities practised it, represented in the fourth and first divisions of their respective nations, but rugby did not feature.

The English half of the entente could have rustled up a XV, for Exeter were established enough to oppose Leicester, Moseley and Newport that month. Brittany, however, was not a hotbed, and it was not until the following year that Rennes Étudiants Club (REC) Rugby was founded. Today, REC sit tenth in the 14-team Nationale, France’s third tier. Their goal is to become Brittany’s second representatives in Pro D2. Vannes, the first, are favourites to return to the Top 14 this season, having spent 2024-25 in the top flight.

When Exeter and Rennes forged links nearly 70 years ago, the intention was not to pen a rugby fairytale, yet one is the sport’s Cinderella and the other wants to go to the ball too. Vannes and Rennes represent what Britain loves: the life and death of promotion and relegation.

The impending ringfencing of the Gallagher Prem, with elevation possible by unromantic means, is a move of professional pragmatism; of Red Bull, James Dyson and Tom Brady. This column would wager that a sizeable number instinctively dislike it but accept that the recent influx of investment to the Prem would not have happened without it.

“Doing an Exeter” means rising from the wilds to the pinnacle, a feat so rare only one team infuse the phrase. Thirty years of professional rugby union have produced far more teams incinerated by close flight to the sun. There is another reflexive cliché in rugby, whenever the English ecosystem is the topic: “We should be like France.” The implication is that France is a sea of Exeters, each waiting to see if the scuba shoe fits. Not really.

Vannes are candidates, and may cement themselves in the Top 14 if they return. Bordeaux Bègles are European champions as the result of a recent merger (a dirty word in Britain) of two clubs with rich histories, so they don’t count. Racing 92 and Toulon? They have won Pro D2 and the Top 14 this century, but are former giants backed by modern wealth. No dice.

La Rochelle have a case, as double European champions, but for long periods of the amateur era they were a first-class club and had been in the top flight as recently as 2002, before their Pro D2 slog. Lyon are contenders, mainstays in the Top 14 since 2016 after a period of yo-yoing, but the city provided national champions in 1910, 1932 and 1933. Too much pedigree for my liking. It may well be Montpellier: founded in 1986 by the merger of two also-rans, and Top 14 champions in 2022.

Even in France, present masters tend to be historical powers. The law of the jungle applies. Narbonne and CS Vienne, national champions in the amateur era, scrabble around in the third and fourth tiers with former top-flight clubs. The Nationale, devised as a bridge to the professional game, has lost two members — Niort and Tarbes — mid-season to bankruptcy, following Blagnac and Hyères-Carqueiranne in the past two campaigns. Tarbes, national champions in 1920 and 1973, is a classic, small rugby town, sinking in professional waters.

Recent history is replete with promotion nullified immediately by relegation. Perpignan are in yet another high-wire act, all but certain to contest the relegation play-off with the Pro D2 runners-up for the fourth time in five seasons. Montauban, who seemed to gain promotion by accident last season, have never looked like rising from the basement.

There are different flavours of romanticism, and if Pau won the Bouclier de Brennus this season it would be some story, given that they were a Pro D2 team in 2015. But again, they have already erected their flag on the summit, in 1928, 1946 and 1964.

That we can pinpoint the best team in France annually since 1892 highlights how the sport differs north and south of the Channel. The effects of history and geography are inescapable. France, with municipal stadiums and four-day weekends of complementary fixtures, has its southwestern heartland, not untouched by other sports but where the oval is king. Ligue 1 is mostly northern (if they are southern, they are a major city), and the top division of basketball does not touch the southwest.

There are two ways in which one can look at Anglo-Saxon rugby and view it comparably to France. One would be to group Britain and Ireland (population: 75 million) in opposition to France (67 million). Add ten teams from the United Rugby Championship to the Prem and there are 20 top-flight sides immediately.

The other way is if one acknowledges both codes of rugby without slagging off the other. Radical, I know. England has an Ovalie heartland: neighbouring towns who love the game, somehow continuing to exist. It’s called the north, and rugby league — and even that has more football to contend with than southwest France. This column views French rugby union as kindred with English rugby league: a sport of contented remuneration, a history of grand finals and an elevation of champion clubs since the 1890s.

Rugby à XIII is not the same in France (for those of you raising your hand, yes, the Vichy regime played its part). Catalans Dragons and Toulouse Olympique are in Super League, but last season’s Super XIII final between Albi and Carcassonne drew a crowd of 5,191, smaller than the attendance for every English game in Super League last weekend.

Taking English rugby in the round gives a stronger picture: 22 top-flight clubs and 34 a rung below (one of which is Welsh). The total attendance for the Top 14 last weekend was just below 130,000, spearheaded by the mighty Bordeaux hosting Toulouse. Combine Super League and the Prem and you have a similar figure. That’s a decent amount of rugby in the land of Premier League football, before we have even added Ireland, Scotland and Wales.

Just be like France? If only it were that simple. If one doesn’t accept Prem ringfencing, this column believes there to be three solutions: a British and Irish competition (ringfencing with nuance, and expansion clubs welcome); merging union and league; or going back to 1895 and allowing the north to become a united sport’s powerhouse. Which is most likely? Er. I’d start investing in that time machine.

Click here to read article