My least worst solution to rugby’s trans debate still

THE RUCK over transgender women participating in female sport is fiercely contested. Opinions are polarised, each side shouting in its own echo chamber.

Into my inbox drops a legal opinion, a reminder that this issue is nuanced. It reinforces my own view that the law is an ass and that politicians need to protect governing bodies from possible financial ruin in addressing its flaw.

Lawyers Kingsley Napley conclude that the RFU’s ban on trans women playing female rugby is contrary to Britain’s Equality Act 2010 and fails

Sport Comment

Ed Warner

the human rights test. It’s a timely intervention as earlier this year UK Athletics, to some derision, concluded that it could not implement a similar regulation for just that reason. The parlous state of UKA’s finances pre- cluded it from running the risk of legal challenges from trans athletes who might be excluded from female competition if it imposed a ban.

The nub of Kingsley Napley’s interpretation of the Equality Act is that, although male puberty tends to deliver physical sporting advantages, not all trans women are heavier, stronger and faster than rugby players they may compete against who were born female. They argue that rugby inherently involves players with a diversity of sizes, that the sport has risks which participants accept, and that its league structure effectively sorts players into the right levels for their abilities.

Following that logic, one might conclude that trans players would have to be assessed case-by-case basis to determine whether they present a danger to opponents. This would allow rugby authorities to invoke the fair competition and safety exemption clause that exists in the Equality Act – but only to bar individual players.

That would obviously be unworkable, though. Kingsley Napley calls instead for a “more proportionate – and legally sound – approach”. Bizarrely, they cite the success of the Lionesses in football in support of their argument.

Leaving aside these diversions from the legal path, the only practical suggestion they have is to require evidence of a sustained reduction, through medical intervention, in a player’s testosterone levels. This is the middle ground pursued by World Athletics and other sports bodies, and which discriminates (in opposite directions) against both DSD athletes such as Caster Semenya and the generality of athletes born female.

A testosterone level limit seems to me a fudge that will produce sporadic, inflamed arguments in elite sports whenever trans athletes succeed. Fe-

Matt Hardy on why this season could define many fans’ relationship with F1

IAM just months away from filing the divorce papers on my cold marriage with Formula 1. Like many in my generation, I was hooked on the world’s greatest motor racing series in 2008 when Lewis Hamilton overtook Timo Glock on the final lap at Interlagos to deny Felipe Massa a world title and claim the first of his seven.

But since then my relationship with Formula 1 has lost its spontaneity and become so, so predictable.

The last decade has been all about constructor dominance. First it was Red Bull and Sebastian Vettel, then Mercedes and Hamilton – with a side helping of Nico Rosberg – and most recently Red Bull again, now with Max Verstappen as their main man.

This season is a litmus test for where Formula 1 lies in my future, because at the moment I am bored. The one spark of excitement came when Hamilton and Verstappen caused a ruckus in Abu Dhabi at the end of the 2021 campaign, and even that felt scripted.

In a world of Drive to Survive, Formula 1 no longer needs traditional fans – it’s achieved what plans for a European Super League in football never managed to do.

It has carved out an audience of those who once didn’t care about 20 blokes driving around a track tens of times but are now addicted to the sport.

They have brought in the TikTok generation, the YouTube generation and the countless TV and gaming geeks who have found F1’s content.

But for me, a partial traditionalist, I