Who wants to be a referee when the rugby law book is a maze translated from ancient Sanskrit

Last year, my mate and sports agent Shafiek Mouton phoned me and asked what my day looked like. I told him I was off and about to head to the shops, nothing exciting.

Then, casually as ever, he dropped a bombshell: I was one of his “phone-a-friend” lifelines on the Afrikaans version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? Everything was hush-hush, of course. He’d been sworn to secrecy, as we were in July and the show would only air in November.

Not long after, a woman called asking me to sign an NDA. It all felt very cloak-and-dagger, as if answering a quiz show question was national security stuff.

I nearly forgot about it, until the call came through while I was leaving the shop, soaked in the pouring rain. I got to the car, took a deep breath, put on my best Afrikaans, and answered:“Hallo Riaan!”

Shafiek hit me with the question: What is the name of the cage where MMA matches take place?

Now normally, the person on the other end gets four options. But Shafiek decided to go rogue — didn’t give me any. A first for the show. Classic Shafiek.

Thankfully, I managed to clear the water from my brain and blurted out: “Octagon!”

I got it right, helped Shafiek earn a few more rand, and earned myself the promise of a round of golf (which, I might add, I’m still waiting for, Chief?).

Ironically, by not giving me options, Shafiek probably made it easier. There was no overthinking. I either knew it or I didn’t. Simple. And this bring me to my point ... If only rugby referees had the luxury to make decisions the same way.

Instead, we get four interpretations, a slow-mo replay, a conference call with the TMO, and a ruling based on what the referee thinks the law says — not what it actually says. And we’re still expected to nod along like it makes perfect sense.

Rugby’s law book is already a labyrinth, probably translated from ancient Sanskrit, but the referees have somehow managed to make it more confusing. One guy penalises you for sneezing near the ruck; the next one applauds a borderline clothesline as a “great contest”.

At this point, even the players look like they’re just hoping for the best.

It’s not just from week to week, it’s within the same game. Take the Springboks’ Test against the All Blacks at Eden Park, where Karl Dickson seemed to have one rulebook for the Boks and another for the home team. It was like two matches being played at once. Even commentator Matt Pierce thought he was in the twilight zone after watching some these bizarre interpretations at the breakdown.

Look, referees are human. They’ll make mistakes. That’s fine. But when every aspect of the game has five sub-clauses and a legal appendix, it’s no wonder we’re all confused.

Surely it’s time to simplify rugby laws. Or at least give every player a decoder ring at the toss, so they know why they’re being pinged — instead of feeling like they’ve been handed four confusing options and asked, “Where do you think you went wrong?”

Until then, it's probably best keep watching with a notebook, a rulebook, and a stiff drink — because when the ref inevitably blows for “tackler not releasing the non-binding support player who entered through the gate but from the side,” I’ll need all three to figure out what on earth just happened.