On the back of Munster’s disastrous call to bring in Roger Randle and the continuing fallout, we take a look at the 10 worst decisions in Irish rugby over the last 50 years

Munster’s decision to hire Roger Randle as backs coach has blown up spectacularly in their faces.

The historical allegations against the Kiwi, which he has always denied, have hung over the province since his name was first announced – originally via online speculation and then debated and criticised across the vast array of media platforms.

But while players and coaches have talked about ‘outside noise’, ‘Randlegate’ has not merely been what is commonly referred to as a ‘media storm’, it has been driven internally by a spate of resignations by committed Munster persons deeply unhappy with how this has played out.

It now appears that the province are acknowledging their mistake and pulling back from the appointment, final confirmation that the decision to hire Randle has been a truly disastrous one – and one that could well end up with Munster needing a new head coach and CEO.   

The whole fiasco got us to thinking about the other bad calls.

So, in no particular order, bar chronological, here are 10 of the worst decisions in Irish rugby history…

THE 1981 TOUR TO SOUTH AFRICA

Irish rugby has a pretty shameful relationship with apartheid South Africa. Generations of committee men, and players, seemed happy to turn a blind eye to the evil segregationist regime in South Africa on the basis of the flawed old chestnut that ‘sport and politics shouldn’t mix’.

The 1981 tour occurred at the height of sporting boycott against South Africa because of apartheid and opposition to the expedition was extensive and severe.

IRFU officials were summoned to the offices of Taoiseach Charles Haughey and warned not to travel; State funding was withheld and President Patrick Hillery cancelled planned trips to Lansdowne Road for Five Nations matches.

In addition, there were massed protests organised by the Irish Anti-Apartheid Movement with thousands marching on IRFU offices, while Aer Lingus staff refused to handle their baggage – requiring the party to arrange a covert departure.

There were also four high-profile players – Moss Keane, Donal Spring, Hugo MacNeill and Tony Ward – who refused to travel.

In spite of all of this, the IRFU blazers (keen to keep their established links with South African counterparts who wooed them relentlessly) pressed ahead with the tour, exposing what many viewed as the questionable morals of rugby’s old guard.

So, a tour that never should have happened went ahead, much to the delight of their hosts and an Apartheid regime that liked to use rugby as a symbol of South African supremacy.

Members of that Irish touring party have since expressed regret that they travelled – many others have not, even when presented with the opportunity to do so.

THE BRIAN SMITH SAGA

The first of the ‘Plastic Paddies’. Smith was a talented Australian utility back who had played against Ireland in the Wallabies’ World Cup quarter-final romp in 1987. He then moved north for some ‘OE’ (overseas experience) and ‘discovered’ he had a granny from Wexford.

This was waved through by the IRFU and Ireland head coach Jimmy Davidson in their desperation to find a decent out-half – a loose definition of Irishness that caused considerable disquiet among media and fans.

But Smith could play and performed extremely well at 10 in green as he racked up nine caps between November 1989 and March 1991. He was all set to spear-head Ireland’s World Cup challenge when he abruptly hightailed it back to Oz having been offered a hefty contract to play rugby league. 

Fury, regret and recrimination ensued among Smith’s abandoned Irish ‘family’ but the Aussie eventually became the first of many as the IRFU began to vigorously pursue a policy of embracing overseas opportunists that continues to this day.

WILTING IN THE SUN

Ireland put in a decent showing in the World Cup pool stage in 1995. They fronted up to the All Blacks, scoring a memorable try by the late Gary Halpin, on the day Jonah Lomu was unleashed upon the world; they hammered Japan and then won a dogfight with Wales to book their passage to the last eight – a huge result at the time given the low expectation around that squad.

That match was played at altitude in Johannesburg, their quarter-final against France was to be played at sea level in Durban. All the local and medical advice suggested one of two courses of action – (a) travel immediately to Durban and spend the week acclimatising to sea level or (b) remain at altitude for the week and travel to Durban within 24 hours of the game so the benefits of altitude stayed in the system.

The Irish officials had their own option (c) – go to Sun City for what was described ‘a bit of R&R’ as a reward for beating Wales and then head for Durban later in the week.

It was the worst possible option. There is no doubt the Irish had the craic in Sun City but they arrived in Durban drained by the altitude adjustment and did not have time to recover – the French beat them out the gate and their World Cup was over.

ASHTON’S SIX-YEAR DEAL

IN the mid-1990s, Bath coach Brian Ashton was regarded as one of the best in the game – a ‘visionary’ who promoted an exciting brand of attacking, all-court rugby.

After a rough period under Kiwi Murray Kidd, the IRFU made a big play for Ashton in 1997, offering him a whack of cash and a whopping, unprecedented six-year deal.

It was a disaster right from the off. The blunt Englishman quickly realised the Irish players were way off the standard he had become accustomed to at Bath and were unable to enact his favoured gameplan. 

Ashton also struggled badly with having to answer to amateur IRFU officials, the system in place, while there was a rapid breakdown in his relationship with equally abrasive team manager Pat Whelan.

Results were poor, including on a horrendous ‘development’ tour to New Zealand where Ashton started openly shunning players he did not rate and, after the loss to Scotland in 1998 when the Englishman infamously declared ‘I’m not quite sure whose gameplan that is but it’s nothing to do with me’, he quit.

Relief all round – and no more six-year deals since.

EDDIE’S ASSISTANT

Eddie O’Sullivan took over from Warren Gatland as Ireland head coach towards the end of 2001. It was a controversial appointment as Gatland had huge goodwill having overseen significant improvements since coming to the IRFU’s rescue after the Brian Ashton debacle.

O’Sullivan was seen as a ruthlessly ambitious, hard-working coach who relished authority and the thinking in IRFU circles was to keep him in check by appointing a big-name assistant who would be the natural successor when the time came.

That big name was Declan Kidney – the most celebrated coach in Irish rugby at the time through his remarkable work with Munster rugby, seen as kick-starting Irish rugby’s revival in the 2000s.

It was a decision that made zero sense. The two knew each other over many years and had never particularly got on, Kidney was always at his best as an astute man-managing overseer than whistle-in-hand assistant and, most significantly, this was an appointment imposed upon O’Sullivan rather than one he sought.

Everyone outside the IRFU knew this was a chronic call and so it proved. 

Kidney quickly became marginalised, a peripheral figure who would sit at the top table in press conferences in silence whilst Eddie answered all the questions. 

It was a shocking waste of Kidney’s talents and he had moved on by 2004, eventually ending up back at Munster where he promptly won two European Cups.

The IRFU’s flawed succession plan came to pass on an ad hoc basis when, following O’Sullivan’s 2007 World Cup implosion, Kidney took over the national team and landed Ireland’s first grand slam in 61 years straight off the bat.

CONNACHT FAILED ASSASSINATION 

In the early 2000s, the IRFU was in serious financial bother. 

At the start of professionalism, there was a flood of players across the Irish Sea as the English clubs footed the bill for the majority of Ireland’s elite.

However, by 2003, as more Irish players were repatriated, the cost of running four professional franchises increased significantly. 

Connacht, continually referred to as the ‘Cinderella province’, had always been the runt of the Irish rugby litter, consistently struggling to get a fair crack at the top table compared to Leinster, Ulster and Munster.

So, in spite of the westerners achieving some notable results – especially under Gatland in the late 1990s, to the point of landing him the Ireland job – the IRFU came up with a plan that cost-saving plan that essentially cut off funding to Connacht and would have resulted in the complete shutdown of the professional operation.

There was a general condescension towards Connacht and their windswept dog-track Sportsground home in Galway in the IRFU corridors of power and they overlooked the depth of feeling and support behind rugby in the west.

The result was they were completely unprepared for the ferocity of anger and opposition as thousands marched on the IRFU offices in Lansdowne to deliver a petition.

The backlash forced a rapid rethink and reverse decision which allowed Connacht to continue – albeit still underfunded compared to their provincial rivals.

Thirteen years later, Connacht beat Leinster in the final to land the Pro12 title and, now with a spanking new stadium (which, unlike Munster and Thomond Park, has a naming rights deal with Dexcom) and the best coach in the country bar Andy Farrell in Stuart Lancaster, it is safe to say Connacht have had the last laugh.

THE TOILET BOWL

The old Lansdowne Road had real character and was loved for its idiosyncrasies. 

However, the reality was that the home of Irish rugby had been disdained as the least impressive, most outdated stadium on the circuit for years before the decision was eventually taken to revamp the home of Irish rugby in the mid-2000s.

Working in tandem with the FAI (never a good idea) as co-hosts, it was decided to jazz up the ground in the same place with a similar attendance of around 50,000.

To press ahead with such an undersized stadium, rather than starting from scratch, at a time when rugby was experiencing unprecedented popularity in Ireland, was a massive mistake – as was shown when the rugby team packed out the 82,000-capacity Croke Park while Lansdowne was being rebuilt.

Building the stadium to the size needed to best cater for the huge demand would have meant taking on the powerful lobbying of local residents and influential tenant clubs Lansdowne and Wanderers.

That did not happen and the result was a stadium facing the wrong way housing a little over 50,000 incorporating a bizarre, low-slung North ‘Stand’ made up primarily of see-through plastic which was designed to appease the residents behind. No wonder the new edifice was quickly dubbed ‘the toilet bowl’.

Bound up with naming sponsors Aviva, the 30,000 extra fans on offer at Croke Park has not been an option and the result has been overpriced tickets, lost income and a mostly underwhelming supporter experience.

THE GROBLER YEAR

The IRFU had a stated zero tolerance policy towards performance-enhancing drugs in rugby, so it was a surprise when it was announced that South African Gerbrandt Grobler would be joining Munster in 2017 – given that he had served a two-year ban for doping offences.

A few questions were raised in the media at his announcement but they went under the radar because Grobler was injured and out of sight.

However, when the 6ft7in second row regained his fitness and came into contention halfway through the season, the controversy blew up spectacularly with Munster and the IRFU the targets of heavy flak. 

There were plenty of supporters who got behind the South African but his presence sent out mixed messages and it was a divisive distraction in an ultimately underwhelming season for Grobler’s fellow South African Johann van Graan.

He was gone at the end of the season.

SHUNNING WOMEN’S RUGBY

In 2021, when the Ireland women’s team spectacularly failed to qualify for delayed 2022 World Cup after losses to Spain and Scotland at the qualifying tournament in Parma, the fallout was intense.

The blame game was in full flow, the amateur players felt let down by what they felt was a chronic lack of support from the union, while the IRFU felt the players underdelivered based on the support that they did receive.

Around the same time, images emerged of Connacht players being forced to change next to rat-infested bins ahead of an interprovincial game, before director of women’s rugby Anthony Eddy gave an incendiary press conference where he appeared to infer that the majority of blame for failure lay with players, rather than lack of union backing.

The players were furious, with hooker Clíodhna Moloney-MacDonald accusing Eddy of ‘slurry spreading’ and, although never officially banned, she was absent from the team for over two years. 

The situation had gotten so bad, 62 current and former players took the unprecedented action of sending a letter to the Irish government outlining their grievances with the IRFU. 

The letter told of their loss of all ‘trust and confidence’ in the union and the need for an independent review into the game as a whole so it could not be swept under the carpet.

It was a power move and it had an impact. There was an official apology from the IRFU and significant structural changes including increased funding and players moving towards professional contracts. 

Eddy stepped down from his role in early 2022.

BENCHING BARRETT

The decision to leave Jordie Barrett on the bench for Leinster’s European Cup semi-final clash with Northampton in 2025 was the rugby equivalent of Decca Records turning down the Beatles in 1962.

Barrett was an All Blacks icon, and one of the finest backs in world rugby, who was signed by Leinster on a short-term deal with the express purpose of winning the European Cup – just as his compatriot Brad Thorn had done 13 years earlier.

Barrett arrived and his class was immediately apparent as Leinster cruised towards the business end of the URC and Champions Cup. 

However, having been named player of the match in the quarter-final romp against Glasgow, the decision was taken to bench Barrett for the Northampton semi-final. 

The expectation was that, playing in front of their home fans in the Aviva, Leinster would swat aside the English outfit and with Barrett looking on from the stands, centrally contracted centres Garry Ringrose and Robbie Henshaw started the game.

But Northampton had not read the script and, inspired by the irrepressible Henry Pollock, pulled off one of the great shocks in European Cup history – with Barrett entering the fray too late to make a difference.

Understandably there was a massive outcry afterwards and questions abounded.

Why would you bring over a world-class player to win the European Cup and then bench him for the semi-final? 

Barrett was only here for 13 games anyway, and did not come cheap, why not get value for money? 

Who was directly responsible, was it head man Leo Cullen, head strategist Jacques Nienaber or their Ireland overseers? 

Twelve months on, there has still not been a satisfactory explanation for this shocking call.