What makes Stade Toulousain so special? Our
special correspondent investigates
by Johnny Lidgate 03 December 2008
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Free-wheeling: Stade Toulouse |
We at FRC
wanted to know just why French giants Stade Toulouse are
consistently regarded as the best team in Europe, so we sent
special correspondent Johnny Lidgate along to the
Ernest-Wallon to find out why. Here's what he thought...
One club stands above all
others in European rugby.
They are three-time
Heineken Cup champions - a record - and 17-time champions of
France, also a record.
They are the Rouges et
Noir from the Ville Rose and to the Anglophone ear even
their nickname has a certain cachet compared to the
sub-American monikers - Force, anyone? - of say, the Super
14.
I write, of course, of
French aristocrats Stade Toulousain.
The city of Toulouse
nestles in the heart of French rugby's heartland, the south
west of the country.
For all the game's
inexorable move towards dominance by big city clubs, around
half of the clubs in France's top two divisions remain
small-town outfits from "La France Profonde".
The likes of Dax,
Mont-de-Marsan, Agen and Auch are un cheval towns whose
obsession with the game enables them to remain just about
competitive with wealthy giants such as Paris-based Stade
Francais, Clermont Auvergne and Toulouse themselves.
While Dax, a town of
little more than 30,000 people, struggle along on a budget
of a few million euros, Toulouse is a city of over a million
people with a mammoth 20 million plus euros to play with -
almost certainly the largest budget in the global game.
Their resources dwarf even
those of cashed-up Toulon, for all their glamour signings
such as
coach Tana Umaga, former All Black Jerry Collins and
NRL convert Sonny Bill Williams.
But Toulouse see
themselves as about more than just numbers; their success
must come with the style that befits a side sometimes
labelled the Real Madrid of European rugby (minus the
unfortunate Fascist heritage).
They are the arch
exponents of what the French call "Le Jeu", and the English
admiringly label "French flair".
Make no mistake, any club
which has employed Kiwi-Tongan brothers Finau, and the even
more massive Isitolo Maka, in their back row is fully aware
of the need for power.
But the fluid offloading
style they have perfected under veteran coach Guy Noves
makes them, at their best, the most thrillingly attractive
side in the northern hemisphere.
This aesthetic imperative,
so integral to the club, is born out of the city itself, for
there are few population centres around the world so
thoroughly immersed in rugby union.
When Rafael Benitez,
manager of Premier League giants Liverpool, one of the
biggest clubs in world sport, took the five-time European
champions to Toulouse for a Champions League game against
the round-ball Toulouse FC, even he was moved to pay homage,
saying "this is a rugby city".
Toulouse itself combines
old-world style with cutting edge modernity. The nickname
"La Ville Rose" comes from the pink brick which much of the
beautiful city is built of.
The Place du Capitole in
the city centre is the most impressive square your
correspondent has ever seen and the impeccably turned-out
inhabitants are so note-perfectly chic it is rapidly
apparent that it is not just Parisians who appreciate the
importance of style.
Leicester city centre on a
Saturday night it is not.
This innate sense of style
is matched by the city's status as the centre of the European
aerospace and space industries, so taking wing and reaching
for the skies is demanded here, hence the crowd's immediate
exhortation "Allez! Allez!" every time Stade turn over
possession in their own 22 - "Let's go! Let's go!"
The City is also reported
to be the fastest growing in western Europe, and driving
into Toulouse from the west the scale of road building and
other development is astonishing - 30 miles from the city's
outskirts entire new motorways are appearing and it is not
hard to find echoes of this civic sense of drive and renewal
in the club's constant search for excellence.
Incidentally, driving into
the city centre from the west you pass through the suburb of
Colomiers. The fact that a club from one of the city's
suburbs are themselves European champions should tell you
all you need to know about the local love of rugby.
For many years, and I
suspect like many English rugby fans, French club rugby was
out of sight and out of mind.
Sure, the national side
would turn up and either combust spectacularly under the
none-too-subtle promptings of Brian Moore, or counter-attack
from behind their own posts and have you on your feet
applauding despite yourselves, but it was the advent of the
Heineken Cup which piqued my interest in the club game.
And, for all the Parisian
haughtiness and sheer, unabashed pinkness of Stade Francais,
or the exoticness of the Basques of Biarritz Olympique or
the Catalans of USAP from Perpignan, it was Stade Toulouse
that really fired the imagination.
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Allez, allez! Style is everything |
I finally made it over
this season for a game and despite the burden of expectation
the experience was everything you would hope it to be.
Driving up to the neat,
modern Stade Ernest-Wallon for the visit of Perpignan - a
19,000 sell out - in the Top 14 we, like every other car
passing down the road, were halted by the French equivalents
of the open-booted Range Rovers which inhabit the west car
park on international days at Twickenham.
The mixed-Toulouse and
Perpignan party thrust an artificial goatskin wine container
through the window and charmingly demanded we drink our share
of the sticky Catalan fortified win - no escape for the
driver either - and that set the tone for the day.
Outside the ground the
hotdog vans sell delicious saucisse de Toulouse, a cut above
the sphincter-and-gristle-dogs you find in England, and
as the sun beat down Toulouse and Perpignan gave it a lash.
Maxime Medard, the latest
dazzling talent off the Toulouse academy conveyor belt,
demonstrated why he is destined for the French national
side, former All Black scrum-half Byron Kelleher showed why
he was Top 14 player of the year last season and France
winger Cedric Heymans cut a line so precise to score with
his first touch after coming on as a replacement it could
have been drawn by one of the designers down the road at the
French Space Agency.
Drums were pounded at
either end of the ground, flags were waved with a panache
Boris Johnson could have done with at the Olympic changeover
in Beijing and the queue for a beer after the game confirmed
that the oldest stereotype of all - that the French smell a
little, shall we say... tangy - is true after all.
The following week Stade
attracted 38,000 to the Stade Municipal for the visit of
Bath in the Heineken Cup, so in addition to their status as
the richest and most successful club in the northern
hemisphere, they can probably claim to be the best supported
as well, for all the marketing genius of Stade Francais
owner Max Guazzini in Paris.
And that brings us back to
the beginning, for in France when you say Stade it refers to
only one club, and it is most certainly not the Parisian
pretenders.
For in France, and in
Europe, one club stands apart - Stade Toulousain. Allez,
allez!

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