It may have been the thrill of hosting a tournament at home; but we had that in the 2012 Olympics. Perhaps it was the camaraderie among rugby fans at a World Cup; yet we experienced that for the men’s game in Japan in 2019. There was certainly the ecstasy of seeing my team win the top prize; I’ve been lucky enough taste that joy with the Cardinals in the World Series. But this experience was better than all of those, and I can only put that down to the fact that it was the women’s game, at a very specific point in its evolution.
Rugby has always drawn a decent balance between male and female fans, but as you’d expect, the women’s game puts even more women in the stands. The lower ticket prices meant more families and far more children, dramatically shifting the feel of the crowd. Fans seemed even chattier than the rugby norm; there are few places in England where it’s easier to strike up a conversation with strangers than in a rugby fan zone. But with the women’s game, fans were routinely exchanging gifts, complementing each others fan-wear and buying each other drinks.
Mostly, though, it was the shared sense that we were all participating in a breakthrough moment. Before this World Cup, women’s rugby felt niche — small audiences in second-tier stadiums, where many spectators had some sort of personal connection to the players. By the end, the women were playing in front of record-breaking crowds of strangers at a sold-out Twickenham Stadium.
England’s Red Roses: Unstoppable Favourites
We had the luxury of our home team, England’s Red Roses, entering the tournament as overwhelming favourites. One of the most successful teams world rugby has ever seen, they arrived with a 27-game winning streak behind them. Their last loss? The final of the previous World Cup. The goal was clear.
If England won every match — which we expected — there would be six games in total. We booked tickets for three: the opener, the quarter-finals, and the final. We were tempted by more, but neither the diary nor the bank account could manage a match every weekend. Our sampling, however, proved well judged.
We had the luxury of our home team, England’s Red Roses, entering the tournament as overwhelming favourites. One of the most successful teams world rugby has ever seen, they arrived with a 27-game winning streak behind them. Their last loss? The final of the previous World Cup. The goal was clear.
If England won every match — which we expected — there would be six games in total. We booked tickets for three: the opener, the quarter-finals, and the final. We were tempted by more, but neither the diary nor the bank account could manage a match every weekend. Our sampling, however, proved well judged.
The Opener: Sunderland – England 69, USA 7
The opening match was in Sunderland on the Friday of the August Bank Holiday weekend, giving us the chance to combine rugby with a short break somewhere new. We stayed in a cottage on Riding Farm — an ideal location, just 15 minutes off the motorway and half an hour from Sunderland city centre, yet deep in the countryside. The lights of the city glimmered on the horizon, but our immediate views were rolling hills, fields, and forests.
The closest tourist attraction is the living history museum at Beamish, but we passed on that to do a circular drive through the North Pennines National Landscape and along part of Hadrian’s wall. Our hosts recommended the Ravensworth Arms as the best option for dining; pleasant though not exceptional.
The hearty dinner was a relief, however, after catering failures the day before at the rugby. The people of Sunderland were kind and enthusiastic hosts; the fan zone and the area around the stadium looked great, and the pre-game parade from fan zone to the Stadium of Light was lively fun. But the planners seemed oblivious to how much rugby fans eat and drink. The stadium ran out of both beer and food by half time, and the fan zone had only three food trucks for a crowd of more than 40,000.
The quality of the game and the crowd more than made up for the shortcomings in hospitality. This was England vs. the USA, and though an American loss was inevitable, the fans were in high spirits simply to be there on such an exciting global stage. I broke out my American colours for this one and, just as in Japan, found that anyone identifying as that oddest of things — an American rugby fan — bonded instantly.
We also got to see Ilona Maher play, confirming she’s much more than a social-media star: she’s a dazzling rugby player. The Americans have potential. But once the opening match was over, my allegiance returned to England.
The Quarter Final: Bristol – England 40, Scotland 8
We decided to drive to and from Bristol on the same day rather than staying overnight. I know people who went to university there love the city, but from our limited exposure we didn’t see anything that encouraged us back for further exploration. Our ambivalence was compounded by logistics: we didn’t move fast enough to get parking near Ashton Gate Stadium, which is on the outskirts, so we left the car in the city centre and relied on public transport. It was slow going out, and even slower returning.
Transport issues aside, Ashton Gate is probably the nicest rugby stadium I’ve ever visited — cheerfully decorated corridors, abundant toilets, good food and drink facilities, a variety of food trucks outside, and even a proper pub built into the venue. It was here I first noticed the multicoloured, flashing goalposts and assumed they were unique to Bristol. Only later at Twickenham did I realise they were special for the tournament. (A shame, I’d love to see them as a permanent addition to rugby.)
With two home nations facing each other in the quarter-final, the crowd was evenly split, Scots shouting just as loudly as the English. They gave us a run for our money in the first half, but the Roses pulled ahead to their usual dominance in the second.
We decided to drive to and from Bristol on the same day rather than staying overnight. I know people who went to university there love the city, but from our limited exposure we didn’t see anything that encouraged us back for further exploration. Our ambivalence was compounded by logistics: we didn’t move fast enough to get parking near Ashton Gate Stadium, which is on the outskirts, so we left the car in the city centre and relied on public transport. It was slow going out, and even slower returning.
Transport issues aside, Ashton Gate is probably the nicest rugby stadium I’ve ever visited — cheerfully decorated corridors, abundant toilets, good food and drink facilities, a variety of food trucks outside, and even a proper pub built into the venue. It was here I first noticed the multicoloured, flashing goalposts and assumed they were unique to Bristol. Only later at Twickenham did I realise they were special for the tournament. (A shame, I’d love to see them as a permanent addition to rugby.)
With two home nations facing each other in the quarter-final, the crowd was evenly split, Scots shouting just as loudly as the English. They gave us a run for our money in the first half, but the Roses pulled ahead to their usual dominance in the second.
The Final: Twickenham – England 34, Canada 13
Travelling had been fun, but it was wonderful to be back at our home ground — especially for this particular event. At almost 82,000, this was the largest crowd ever to watch a women’s rugby match, and they were in gleeful spirits.
It was a full day of rugby, starting with the bronze-medal final between New Zealand and France. It’s always a pleasure to see the haka, and an added bonus to cheer against the “old enemy” as France were trounced. Between matches, we caught the Red Roses walking into the stadium in a longer, more adoring ceremony than the men usually get.
The Canadians fought hard, and there were moments in the first half when they had us worried. Their achievement is extraordinary, considering they have a tenth of England’s funding and most of their players are amateurs. They were also playing in a stadium where perhaps 85% of the crowd was cheering for their opponents — though, being rugby, there was still polite applause from opposing fans for moments of Canadian brilliance.
England, of course, romped to their expected victory. Almost no one left the stadium. Instead, it became a vast gathering of communal joy as everyone cheered, sang along, and celebrated the remarkable women on the field.
Travelling had been fun, but it was wonderful to be back at our home ground — especially for this particular event. At almost 82,000, this was the largest crowd ever to watch a women’s rugby match, and they were in gleeful spirits.
It was a full day of rugby, starting with the bronze-medal final between New Zealand and France. It’s always a pleasure to see the haka, and an added bonus to cheer against the “old enemy” as France were trounced. Between matches, we caught the Red Roses walking into the stadium in a longer, more adoring ceremony than the men usually get.
The Canadians fought hard, and there were moments in the first half when they had us worried. Their achievement is extraordinary, considering they have a tenth of England’s funding and most of their players are amateurs. They were also playing in a stadium where perhaps 85% of the crowd was cheering for their opponents — though, being rugby, there was still polite applause from opposing fans for moments of Canadian brilliance.
England, of course, romped to their expected victory. Almost no one left the stadium. Instead, it became a vast gathering of communal joy as everyone cheered, sang along, and celebrated the remarkable women on the field.
A National Treasure in Full Bloom
I doubt I’ll ever experience anything quite like that again. First, because I’m unlikely to see another World Cup on home turf in my lifetime. Second, because this was a rare and wonderful tipping point — a moment when a minority sport tasted its first flush of mass popularity.
I fully expect, and wholeheartedly support, the women’s game coming on par with the men’s. That will mean much of this becomes the new normal, and some of that giddy excitement will fade. Hopefully not too much. England’s Red Roses are a national treasure, shining some much-needed light in difficult times.
I fully expect, and wholeheartedly support, the women’s game coming on par with the men’s. That will mean much of this becomes the new normal, and some of that giddy excitement will fade. Hopefully not too much. England’s Red Roses are a national treasure, shining some much-needed light in difficult times.
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