"IT shouldn't be shocking at all that there is a gay rugby team, when everyone has known for eons that there is a rather obvious Nelly current running through the regular rugby scene. They don't get called rugger buggers for nothing."

Oh come on, we've all thought it. Rugby may be a distinctly manly game but it definitely seems, at least to those of us who haven't played it, to have a slightly effete edge. Not that I'd tell Paul O'Connell.

It's less to do with all the mauling and clenching and more to do with the bonding high jinks that go hand-inhand with the sport. We've all heard of the soggy biscuit game. Although, to clarify, that quote belongs to Miss Panti (Empress of Drag) and is very definitely not to be associated with the author of this column in any way.

Just in case some lumbering 20-stone front row is reading and chooses to take offence.

Queering the Pitch . . .

whoever came up with that title should get a promotion . . . concerned itself with the tale of the first gay Irish rugby team, The Emerald Warriors, preparing to go and play in the Gay Rugby World Cup in New York.

It's difficult to even think about this programme without finding yourself falling into the realm of double, and indeed single, entendres. Only horse racing can outdo rugby when it comes to sounding like a Carry On film. Next time there's rugby on TV turn away from the pictures and listen to Ryle Nugent's dulcet tones . . . it sounds like he's narrating hard-core porn.

The documentary-makers broached such childish giddiness early on by having the title sequence feature a pair of pink stilettos beside a rugby ball (admittedly blithely ignoring that this was a gay rather than a transvestite team). Then speedy winger Kieran Roughan, scorer of a scorching try against Austin Lonestars in New York, explained, "When we go to play a straight team maybe they have this idea that in the maul we're going to, you know, maul them. It doesn't happen. They have nothing to fear. All we're interested in is getting the ball and scoring." Catching himself he clarified with a smile, "scoring a try."

And so, with our expectant appetite for low-brow humour sated, the programme got on with the task in hand of telling the team's story. And the viewer quickly switched from thoughts of pink stilettos to worrying for the team's safety. This couch has always lumped rugby in with boxing as being one of those sports that if you plan on playing you should start from a young age, that way you learn how to hit and be hit without incurring serious injury.

But many of the Warriors side were relative newcomers and there were no nancy boys on show here (oh behave), the hits were very real and very hard.

The Warriors made the wise move of enlisting Conchubhair MacLochlainn, a token straight guy and forwards coach, to assist them on some of the basics although he was equally happy to go into detail on some of the game's black arts, enough to make you give any scrum, gay or straight, a wide berth. MacLochlainn, having prior experience of the game, was clearly the side's best player but picked up a serious knee injury in a friendly against Tallaght and found his contribution for the tournament restricted to screaming obscenities from the sideline. And for that matter, is having a straight guy on your team not cheating? How vigorous is the screening process?

As the programme went on, it started to matter less and less that this was a gay rugby team. All that mattered was that these men found reward in their endeavours, that special thrill that comes from competing and developing a team bond. By the end the documentary ending up being a brilliant advertisement for taking part in a team sport of any kind. But there were mishaps along the way, horrible painful mishaps.

Early in their first game in New York, the Warriors' Ciaran Behan was felled with a serious injury and thereafter his trials and tribulations in hospital were intercut with action from the matches, as it transpired he had broken his hip. After that the team were competing "for Ciaran" and they put up a heroic show. Having improved out of all recognition over the previous weeks and months they just fell short of claiming a semi-final place.

At the end of the last game, having lost out after emptying their souls onto the pitch, many of the team were left in tears. On the sideline, MacLochlainn tried his damnedest to fulfil his role as the straight guy. "Look at them all crying, f***ing gay, " he mumbled, before turning away from the camera, apparently having difficulty keeping his own emotions in check. Ultimately though the campaign ended on a high for the Irish, with the news that they had won the right to stage the World Cup in 2008.

Better get those rainbow flags and banners ready.