THE comparison 
betweeen rugby and football, a gentleman’s game played by hooligans and vice versa, has become blurred.

Now both are characterised as games played by cheats.

The latest evidence, of course, was the self-acknowledged hand-ball by Thierry Henry in Paris on Wednesday evening which helped William Gallas score the World Cup play-off goal which eliminated the Republic of Ireland.

The Football Association of Ireland has lodged a formal complaint with FIFA. They say the handball was recognised by the FIFA commissioner, referee observer and match officials, as well as acknowledged by Henry himself. Dermot Ahern, the Ireland Justice Minister, and Liam Brady, the Republic’s assistant coach, have demanded the game be replayed.

Sadly, whatever punishment is meted out, the one certainty is that the Republic will not be reprieved. FIFA have remained ostrich-like, uncaring, even impotent, for too long as ethical standards have been eroded. They 
have abrogated responsibility and 
are unlikely to change now.

Giovanni Trapattoni, Ireland’s manager, acknowledged the reality:
 “I know it’s impossible to replay the game.” He also absolved Henry: “It wasn’t up to Henry to say: ‘I touched it with my hand’.” The Frenchman, seen by millions worldwide in thousands of replays, used his arm to control the ball. An incompetent referee missed it.

“The hand of God” blazed yesterday’s front page headline in the French sports daily, L’Equipe. It evoked, of course, memories of Diego Maradona’s infamous hand-ball against England in their 1986 World Cup quarter-final.

Even in France, Henry is being 
viewed as a disgrace. “The team will go to South Africa courtesy of unquestionable cheating which highlights the downward spiral affecting football today.” Thus spake the spokesman for a French teachers’ union. He realises that if you bend the rules of sport, you will bend them in life.

The integrity of sport, particularly rugby and football, has long been under siege. Ireland are simply the latest victims. Henry hardly had a choir-boy reputation, but the residue of his reputation is now in tatters.

Will Henry remain a prime candidate for product endorsement? Gillette, who feature him in an advert along with Tiger Woods and Roger Federer, might even feel prompted to have second thoughts.

But don’t bet on it. Nothing seems to succeed like excess. This, after all, is a man to whose gamesmanship Rangers had also fallen victim in Camp Nou. And Henry dived to win the free kick responsible for eliminating Spain from the World Cup in 2006. He has ranted when his diving has been unsuccessful.

A psychological analyst might suggest this stems from his own anger over being cheated by Barcelona when he was with Arsenal. That he reckoned it was fair game if it had happened to him. It’s like bullying and child abuse begetting future bullies and abusers. It places a heavy responsibility on referees to have a zero-tolerance attitude. Without that, football’s recurring bad behaviour is legitimised and spills into society.

The furore raged as German police made numerous arrests in connection with alleged match-fixing. Details of offences, offers of “financial induce-ments to players, coaches, referees and officials from high-ranking European leagues” will be outlined today.

This issue has also touched cricket, with ball-tampering a recurring issue.

Drugs, of course, cross all sporting boundaries, but endemic cheating in football and rugby is destroying the ethos of sport. It’s hard to escape the conclusion that the vast rewards of modern professionalism, has bred this.Diving, and attempting to impact 
on fellow-professionals’ ability to earn 
a living is routine. Eduardo won Arsenal a penalty against Celtic in the Champions League this year with what many considered a blatant dive. Arsene Wenger, his manager, alleged a “witch-hunt” after UEFA stepped in, and he escaped suspension.

The impact is far-reaching. Primary school divers emulate the role models of the senior game. And spit like adults.

It’s now fashionable to exploit the law to the maximum, ignoring the ethos of playing the game. Whatever you can get
away with, whatever thuggery one can slip past the referee, is fair game in rugby.

Rugby’s Bloodgate cost Dean Richards, once a police officer, his reputation. The former Harlequins director of rugby was banned for three years for his role in the fake injury scandal involving Tom Williams.

With blood apparently pouring 
from his mouth, Williams winked as he was replaced, allowing a recognised kicker back onto the pitch in the Heineken Cup quarter-final. The winger was later cut in the mouth by a club official attempting to justify the injury.

Gamesmanship rules. Honour is redundant.