Heroically, Rugby Australia CEO Raelene Castle admitted that the situation is "quite challenging". No, she went even further, conceding that the situation is "a concern". But then, she ventured, it’s a concern for "a lot of codes, particularly in the Sydney market". They might all be going down, but rugby is going to break their fall. Illustration: Simon Letch Credit: Cue the predictable tirades of blame for Castle, who has inherited from Bill Pulver the role played by the sacrificial decoy in those old war movies, crying, "Look, Jerry, over here!" to draw distracting fire while their mates escape. Setting up Castle, or outgoing RA chairman Cameron Clyne, as a scapegoat serves a valuable purpose for rugby. It flatters the vanity of the business community who support the game, for businesspeople like to sheet home responsibility to "leadership" and "governance" and "the business model", putting themselves at the centre of the drama. But – newsflash – nobody has stopped watching rugby because of Raelene Castle or Cameron Clyne.

Nobody stopped because of Israel Folau. Nobody stopped because of Foxtel or TV rights deals or the paywall, though they might have created hurdles at an inopportune moment. Loading Replay Replay video Play video Play video Nobody stopped because Bernard Foley and Quade Cooper went to Japan. Nobody stopped because of blazers.

Nobody stopped because the best schoolboy players got poached by the NRL. And I don’t think many people walked away from the game due to the Australian Unleaded Rugby teams’ lack of on-field success. Surely fans aren’t that shallow. In fact, a losing run can add suspense. When winning is a scarce resource, it means more. Cricket’s Big Bash League, for example, gets more interesting for every year the Melbourne Stars choke in the finals. So why are people deserting rugby? A rugby stalwart (and rugby, in these times, redefines the meaning of "stalwart") asked me why I had walked away from a code I had grown up with. The answer is that I haven’t. I’m an optimist. Therapeutically, it must be healthier to scream at the TV set than at your kids. Rugby to me is what a scratching post is to a cat. It helps relieve frustration. I think. My thoughts on the game come in sorrow, constructively, or, as one former rugby person might have put it, "from a place of love". But whether you’ve walked away or are still hanging on grimly, spectators know what it is that needs fixing.

It’s the game. Loading It’s the endless repetition of pick-and-drive in the one spot, like unlimited-tackle rugby league played underwater. It’s the interminable scrums, with the clock being allowed to run, a visible act of theft perpetrated on the viewer. It’s the opacity of rules which give referees inordinate power, which they exploit with the relish of 1970s customs officers.

It’s refereeing in general, the saboteur-as-star. It’s a substitution rule that ensures nobody gets too tired. It’s the TV commentary where expert interpreters themselves have no idea what is going on or, if they do, lack the ability to put it into words. It’s the disappearance of footballers and their replacement by athletes. Folau, the leading Australian rugby player of the recent era, was no more a footballer than Mark Ella was an athlete. Michael Hooper is a brave, strong, persistent, resilient and sometimes inspirational leader who somehow still has trouble catching and passing the football. It’s the faux nostalgia for the Shute Shield. We all love the smell of tomato sauce and the audible grunt of a rolling maul. But let’s not subject suburban rugby to too much exposure, lest a Peter Principle take effect and people watch it in sufficient numbers to realise that the standard of Australian rugby, all the way from clubs to the Wallabies, is uniform throughout.