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​Uruguayan Rugby: An Amateur Outlook in a Professional World

Uruguay are one of the Rugby World Cup's most noteworthy minnows. But what 'Los Teros' lack in resources they certainly make up for in commitment.

This article originally appeared on VICE Sports UK.

While the England squad made their World Cup preparations in the plush setting of Pennyhill Park – the five star hotel tucked away in leafy Surrey – half a world away, one of their Pool A opponents were still coming to terms with their first ever full-time training camp.

Uruguay are the second lowest-ranked team at this autumn's rugby jamboree, and boast just three professional players, all of whom play in the French second division. For the 95% of their squad that is based in Uruguay, rugby involves a few hours of training in the morning or evening before heading off to work to actually earn a living. The contrast to England's pampered professionals could not be more stark.

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For the England boys, a "work/life" balance means making time for a Jacuzzi and a steam after training (and quite right too – the facilities at Pennyhill are from the top drawer).

For the Uruguay team, it means making sure they aren't fired from their day jobs when they take time off to play at the World Cup in September.

Alberto Román is one of the luckier ones. The 28-year-old centre – a stalwart of Los Teros midfield for the past four years – works with his dad at the advertising agency LOWE in Montevideo. Taking time off to travel around the world to chase an egg doesn't involve too awkward a conversation for him.

"I'm lucky because I work with my father but at the moment it's a bit complicated as I have to skip work to go to training," says Román.

"The amateur structure is really difficult. You are always tired; you don't have much time to relax. I wake up at half six and head to the stadium for training until midday and then I must go to work. I finish work at 7pm."

Román spent three seasons knocking about the leagues in Italy, and as such is one of the few in Los Teros squad with a vague notion of what the professional life is actually like – different, to say the least.

"When you are playing as a professional, you are living rugby; you play all day every day, you have rest, lunch – everything for rugby," he says.

Rugby has always been an elitist sport. While it is working hard, with mixed success, to shed that image over here, in Uruguay it remains the preserve of the well-off and the expats. The sport first arrived in the country via British settlers, and, rather bizarrely, the Montevideo Cricket Club claims to be the oldest rugby union club outside of Europe.

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Román admits that had he not been privileged enough to attend a private school, he may never have ended up at the World Cup later this year.

"In the British and private schools you have rugby, but not in the public schools," he explains. "You have some clubs that play it, but it's not common in schools.

"I started when I was six, at my school – my brother went first, and I followed him. It's difficult because here, everyone talks about and plays football. Rugby is not important and there's no money in it."

Somewhat perversely, being the pastime of the wealthy has never translated into there being any money in the game at the top level.

Head coach Pablo Lemoine, a gnarled ex-prop who bookended 12 years playing in Europe with two stints at the Montevideo CC rugby team, admits that the build-up to this World Cup is the first time the Uruguayan Rugby Union has had access to extra funding to pay the players.

"We've been giving some money to some players to help them with their work, to make a full time job a bit more part time," says Lemoine. "It helps a bit but it's not a salary; we don't have enough money to pay salaries. It's only been this year. This is the first time we've received money to play rugby."

"They gave us money but it's not much; not enough to live," adds Román. "It's not what we would want, but it's what we have."

One of the biggest challenges the rugby administrators in England, Wales and Australia have faced in the professional era is the danger of their best players chasing big money contracts outside of their home countries, most of the time being wooed by eccentric Frenchmen with big checkbooks and bigger egos.

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England steadfastly refuses to pick any player that puts their bank balance ahead of the desire to play for their country, which of course they are capable of doing because they have the deepest playing reserves (and coffers) of any country on the planet.

Wales do not have such reserves but are in the process of putting measures in place to ensure their best players remain in the country, while Australia has a similar rule to England.

Uruguay, by ironic contrast, are desperate for more of their players to leave the country and head to France, or, quite frankly, anywhere else in the rugby world that has a professional set up. Coach Lemoine, himself a veteran of several seasons in both the top English and French leagues, speaks highly of the influence that players that have experienced a professional environment have on the amateur players.

"They make a big difference," notes the no-nonsense ex-prop. "They improve concentration at training, and work really hard at the little things. They help the other players – they're concerned."

Indeed, the dream may become more of a reality soon. Uruguay reached the 1999 and 2003 World Cups, even beating Georgia in the latter, but failed to capitalise on this relative success for such a small rugby-playing nation. Now, though, they have a burgeoning youth set-up – their U21 team recently tasted success over both Fiji and Tonga, traditionally much stronger nations.

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"We have a lot of potential," notes Lemoine. "There are plenty of academies in France that want to pick our players. We want to send our best players to the best training academies to improve our youngsters and in the future have a better national team."

Lemoine was one of few Uruguay players who made it professionally, spending two years at Bristol before moving to France, where he won two French championships with Stade Français during a six-year stint at one of the biggest clubs in the world at the time.

So why haven't more players followed in his footsteps? The success of their youth teams bodes well for the future, but it is not before time. Lemoine retired in 2010 and since then just one Uruguayan has graced the top European leagues; controversially, that player –Rodrigo Capo Ortega of French club Castres – has recently ruled himself out of the World Cup for personal reasons.

Admittedly, the odds are firmly stacked against tier two nations, with funding, exposure, and game time far from forthcoming. Then there is the prickly issue of players being paid extra by their clubs not to represent their national teams – something that has affected many Pacific Islanders and which created the controversy around Capo Ortega's withdrawal.

The bureaucratic landscape for emerging rugby nations is a rocky one at the best of times. Should Uruguay, by some miracle, make a positive impact on the field at the World Cup this autumn, they may face a few more of these issues.

For the here and now, however, Los Teros seem perfectly happy in the role of plucky underdog – a gloriously amateur throwback to rugby's yesteryear. It may very well suit everyone if they were just to stay that way.

@jhosie43

The Uruguayan national rugby squad's kit is proudly supplied by Kooga. Find out more at www.kooga-rugby.com