While some beastly types voiced outrage a couple of years ago when it emerged that Mark Dodson, the chief executive of the Scottish Rugby Union, had trousered the thick end of £1 million by way of salary and benefits in the previous financial year, I took the view that a more measured and analytical approach was needed. What, I wondered, would he have made for himself if there was a single shred of evidence that he had actually improved anything during his time in charge?
For even then it was crystal clear that the sport in these parts was standing still — and that the only likely trajectory was rapid decline. And so it has proved as the national team, beset by the scandal of an illicit boozing episode, has just been crushed by Ireland, the under-20s have suffered a second successive Six Nations whitewash, the professional sides rely ever more heavily on second-rate imports and historic and formerly well-supported clubs struggle to put out second XVs.
Under the present administration, Scottish rugby is failing on every front. The SRU can pump out as many cheesy Twitter posts or happy-clappy videos as it likes, but a more blatant example of turd-polishing would be hard to imagine. Those great lines of Burns spring to mind. “Facts are chiels that winna ding, An’ downa be disputed” — but it only adds to the sense of despair to realise that so many at Murrayfield today would not have the beginnings of a clue what they actually meant.
What modest successes there have been over the past decade — Glasgow lifting the Pro12 title in 2015, full houses at Murrayfield matches — owe more (a) to the emergence and recruitment of a crop of decently talented players, and (b) the ticketing strategy outlined by former SRU chairman, Sir Moir Lockhead, before Dodson was in post. And while the once-scary level of debt has been reduced, it has been helped by broadcasting deals negotiated by others and was already heading downwards thanks to policies introduced by Gordon McKie, the previous chief executive.
While leadership of a sporting organisation is no place for life’s shrinking violets, Dodson has reached almost Johnsonian levels of bullishness and chutzpah in his actions and utterances. Remember his 2012 claim that Scotland would win the World Cup three years later? The intemperate sacking of Keith Russell, an episode that led to humiliation in an employment tribunal and a bill likely to have been in the region of £250,000? The ill-timed and ill-advised outburst at the 2019 World Cup that landed the union with a disrepute charge and a £70,000 fine?
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And, of course, the Super6 tournament that was created to bridge the gap between the amateur and professional games to battle-harden young players and get them ready to go up against their counterparts from other nations? The success of that venture can be measured not just by the fact the under-20s were slaughtered 59-5 by Ireland on Sunday, but by the fact that the scale of the humiliation was so wearily predictable given that so many of those young Scots had played next to no rugby over the past few months.
On the eve of the Women’s Six Nations — Scotland get their campaign under way against England at the DAM Health Stadium on Saturday — it is worth reflecting on how things have gone in that area as well. Over the course of the past ten seasons, Scotland have played 45 games in the tournament and won just three, a success rate of precisely 6.66 per cent, with none of those victories having come in the past three years. Most countries acknowledge the importance of the women’s game in terms of growing the sport as a whole and have policies to suit; Scotland does too, but only with vague platitudes and woolly statements about devising strategies and policies and pathways.
Meanwhile, the schools and youth system remains a disaster area. Some years before Dodson took office, Scottish clubs voted overwhelmingly for those two critical arms of the game to have an integrated competitive structure. It was there in his in-tray when he stepped into the job in September 2011 and it is presumably still there as it certainly hasn’t happened at any meaningful level. Yes, there was some tinkering a few years back, but the outcome was not remotely close to what the clubs wanted.
As a result, the elite level of rugby in that age group has become the preserve of a tiny handful of fee-paying schools — specifically those that plunder the state sector for its best players by handing out scholarships. No state establishment has won the senior Scottish Schools Cup since Bell Baxter lifted the trophy in 2007. It is a desperately unhealthy situation but there is no apparent will within Murrayfield to change it. Aside from anything else, it emboldens those who, probably on account of their own insecurities, want to paint rugby as the exclusive pastime of the posh.
Harry S Truman was not the most enigmatic of US presidents, but he did reinforce an important principle of leadership with that famous sign on his desk that read: “The buck stops here”. Would that Dodson had taken that on board when the Russell affair revealed the toxic culture of the organisation he led, one in which former employees were routinely bought off with gagging clauses.
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Instead, he and the nodding donkeys of his inner circle embarked on a series of management reviews, a disgraceful attempt to deflect attention from personal failings by suggesting the problems were systemic. Yet the system in place had been devised by Lord Mackay of Clashfern, the former Lord Chancellor, and refined by Sheriff Bill Dunlop, an eminent judge who had deep roots in the game. Did Dodson really feel that he and his cronies could do better?
Dodson is not without talents and qualities. He is affable company, a persuasive communicator and a man who is driven to finish the job when he gets the bit between his teeth. That can be a virtue, but only if you are driving in the right direction. At the moment, Scottish rugby is on the road to nowhere, a path to continuous decline.
One of the strangest elements of the Russell affair was that Dodson was handed a five-year contract extension in the midst of it. That expires next year, when he will have been in the job for 12 years and will be 63 years old. The reigns of Dodson’s three predecessors —Bill Watson, Phil Anderton and McKie — all came to messy ends. If he wants to avoid that fate himself he would be best advised to get out on his own terms before the clamour for his departure becomes deafening.
