If Wales want the roof closed at the Six Nations then suck it up – we paid for it

Wales and Scotland players walk out to a cacophony of noise
Having the roof closed at the Principality Stadium creates an incredible atmosphere - PA/David Davies

Max Boyce used to say God preferred the Principality Stadium to be left open so “he can watch his favourites play”. But then Warren Gatland arrived and said “to hell with that”.

And so we embarked on “Roofgate”, an annual row between the Wales coach and whichever Six Nations team dared state their desire to play rugby in the outside air. Somehow, this piece of housekeeping actually became an emotive debate and it was soon established as an international tradition.

Granted it never was quite on a par with “Bread of Heaven”, but in the interminable build-ups to games it did keep journalists fed when they were in dire need of more.

Alas, no more. It is hardly the most controversial executive order made in the last few days, but to some of us nostalgics, the edict from the Six Nations just before the 2025 tournament’s media launch on Tuesday does represent the end of an era.

ADVERTISEMENT

The statement referred to it as “the iconic roof” – which puts all that palaver at the Sistine Chapel in its place – and solemnly revealed there has been an historic “change to roof protocol”. Before, both teams had to agree to it being closed, but now “the default position” is Wales’ choice alone.

There is a caveat and the point was made that this decree initially only stands for the next two seasons. However, we all know this is it. That roof in CF10 is the opposite of Pandora’s Box in that once it is shut, it is never being reopened. Not in the Six Nations anyway.

Granted, if Gatland and Steve Borthwick both signalled their wish to have it open for the last day of the championship then the daylight will shine. But Gatland will never agree and neither will all those who follow in the red tracksuit. Not after all this fuss.

Over the years, the issue has become like a taunt to the away coaches. Of course, they might have harboured justifiable reasons for the encounter to be exposed to the elements. Wales never have been the biggest and if the conditions are wet, the weightier outfits could feel they have an advantage.

ADVERTISEMENT

But as Joe Schmidt, the former Irish coach now with Australia, noticed a few years ago, the home side went to pains to have it their way by insisting a storm would ruin the proceedings, but when the visitors arrived it was a beautiful day and the sprinklers had been turned on to render the pitch almost a quagmire.

In truth, Gatland’s argument was always posed in the press to ponder if the opposition’s nerve was failing. The Kiwi is a skilled orator and a master of the verbal grenade and cleverly he managed to phrase it differently each year. But the tone of his comments never altered and neither did the sentiment. “Do you have the bottle to come down here and face the music and the singing?” it would say. “If you’re so good, why can’t you stand up to the best atmosphere in world rugby.”

When the roof is shut and the timing is right, that is exactly what is produced. No, Six Nations crowds are not what they were, because there are too many in attendance who are there essentially to party. Thus the hymns are not as passionate and that sense of expectancy is not as rich. Yet every now and again the old times erupt, the electricity abounds and with the lid on the tin, there is nowhere else for it to escape than into the hearts of the supporter and the psyche of the gladiators. Particularly if it is staged in early evening, at that sweet point of the international experience when the alcohol is not yet at its most ruinous, and the floodlights only elevate the ambience.

One such occasion was the 2013 Six Nations decider when England needed the victory for the Grand Slam and Wales required an eight-point win to steal the Championship. Wales prevailed 30-3 and Richard Hibbard, the rampaging hooker, summed up the experience. “I knew it was over during the anthems,” he said. “It was the loudest Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau there has ever been and it bounced off the roof and carried on coming back at us, again and again. There was only one team winning after that.”

James Haskell, the England flanker, concurred. “The noise there becomes so oppressive in that closed arena it’s like a force on top of you,” he said.

ADVERTISEMENT

Two years later, Gatland dared Stuart Lancaster to leave it shut again. The Englishman refused and England won 21-16. Hilariously, Gatland then switched it up, shocking the Irish by demanding it be left open. Wales came through 23-16.

Principality Stadium roof is left open in 2015 for Wales v England
England refused to have the roof closed in 2015 - Getty Images/Clive Mason

After that the away coaches seemed utterly confused about what would happen and it reached the stage last year where we would regularly have “The Roofgate Hokey Cokey” – a variation on a theme but still one most welcomed by us poor dolts with the empty notebooks.

First it would be shut, then the other country would demand it open and then, after all the hoopla, it would be shut again. That was the situation before Scotland arrived for the opener last year and, as it turned out, despite Gregor Townsend’s u-turn, they celebrated their first win in Cardiff in 22 years.

Italy also won under the roof in March, just as Australia, South Africa and Fiji did in the autumn, making it a record 12 Test defeats in a row for Gatland’s Dragons. The sky has fallen in regardless of the barriers.

And maybe that is why the Six Nations has finally bowed to the repeated Welsh requests to have the last say on the subject – it is our roof, we paid for it, and if we want it shut then suck it up. Who knows, maybe they even had a word with God. “For my sake, close it for good. I can’t bear to watch anymore.”