Little people still have a role to play

I remember taking up rugby. I wasn't a big lad by any stretch of the imagination, but I held my own. I played, and I like to think I played reasonably well.

I certainly gave my all, and I know I have a healthy collection of memories involving thuds as bigger chaps than me hit the ground after first hitting my shoulder. There were chaps smaller than me knocking me backwards too.

People witter on and on about size in rugby these days, and used properly, the bullies often get their way. It is the way of nature, always has been, always will be.

Saturday's Guinness Premiership final illustrated that point. Alesana Tuilagi's second try saw the giant Samoan clatter through Ryan Lamb's arm like a bull elephant charging... well, charging over a sickly lamb, to be honest.

Tuilagi, Seru Rabeni, and the disproportionately stocky Dan Hipkiss ruled the roost on Saturday, but why? They had good ball. And this really is where the argument against size being the be-all and end-all starts.

Lamb, Anthony Allen and James Simpson-Daniel were reduced to very little on Saturday, but when did they ever have the time and space to do what they do best? Leicester won the collision contest up front, and gave the big guys at the back time and space and pace with which to destroy their opposition.

Leicester's real match-winners on the day were their pack. All eight of them big guys, to be sure, but I dare anybody to walk into Gloucester's shed and suggest that the Cherry-and-White forwards are anything but big.

Had Gloucester's pack gained the upper hand, had Peter Richards not delibarated so long over where to pass his ball, we might have seen the afore-mentioned Gloucester back trio, all of them more artizan than armoured tank, paint the running-line pictures on the field that would have had Leicester's defenders rubbing thorids in dismay.

There are so many players still in the modern game that we should celebrate for their ability to overcome comparative size dsiadvantage. Freddie Michalak is one of the conjurors of the modern game, yet weighs in at a featherweight 78kg.

Peter Stringer of Ireland continues to widen eyes in amazement, both before the game when he stands between his two locks for the anthems, and then during it when he plays like a colossus.

Then there is Christophe Dominici, 1m 72 in his socks and about to turn 35, and still one of the game's finest wingers. Yes Tuilagi would obliterate him head-to-head, but I would still place my money on Dominici if both were given an equal supply of good ball.

Size helps, but rugby is about technique and guile too. Which is where the diminutive players come in. A nippy little bloke will forever be a useful weapon because he might be someone that the big guys just can't catch or read. He might also squeeze through the tiny gaps in today's organized defences that the big guys just can't find or see.

So Let Leicester, South Africa, the Bulls, and all those teams who hedge their bets on size only have their day. For there will still be days when the dainty delight the fans and dazzle their brutish opponents, and those will be days for all of us watching to enjoy.

By Loosehead Les