Justin M. Fitzpatrick
In the shimmering heat of the Arabian Peninsula—where falcons trace lazy arcs through the sky and Formula 1 engines thunder beneath desert stars—a new ambition is rising from the sand: the right to host the 2035 Rugby World Cup.
In a bold and unexpected joint declaration, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Qatar have confirmed their intent to bid for rugby’s most prestigious tournament. If successful, it would mark the first time the event is staged in the Middle East—a move that could transform the game’s global geography and its cultural identity.
For some, it borders on heresy: a sport forged on muddy Victorian English schoolyards and forged by coastal breeze now being courted by nations more familiar with football, finance, and falconry. But for the modern stewards of international sport, this is not an aberration—it’s a logical, lucrative evolution.
A Desert Dream
On the surface, the bid fits neatly within the Gulf’s burgeoning sports diplomacy. Qatar’s 2022 FIFA World Cup proved the region’s ability to host on a monumental scale—lavish yet controlled, controversial yet undeniably efficient. The UAE has long played host to global golf, tennis, and combat sports, while Saudi Arabia has emerged as sport’s most ambitious disruptor, pumping billions into LIV Golf, boxing super-fights, and the revitalisation of its football league.
Now, the focus shifts to the bruising ballet of rugby union.
“It’s not just about hosting,” says Dr. Fahd al-Salem, a sports development strategist in Riyadh. “It’s about catalysing a cultural shift—building a new generation of fans, players, and purpose around a sport that embodies courage, respect, and community.”
And the groundwork has quietly begun. Rugby academies have sprouted in Doha, Abu Dhabi, and Jeddah. Coaches from South Africa, the UK, and New Zealand are laying foundations. School leagues are gaining traction. And the newly proposed Gulf Rugby Union could offer a regional governing framework to give the bid political and practical muscle.
A High Bar to Clear
Yet ambition alone isn’t enough. To host a Rugby World Cup, World Rugby’s criteria are clear—and demanding.
The host must expand the game’s footprint: engage new communities, particularly youth and women; build grassroots participation; and partner with the governing body to leave a lasting legacy. Legacy isn’t a slogan—it’s a scoreboard: more players, more clubs, stronger pathways.
Beyond this, there are logistical demands. Stadiums must hold from 15,000 up to 60,000 for finals. Training bases, transport, and hospitality must match Olympic standards. And perhaps most critically, the host must either generate substantial profit or serve as a strategic catalyst for global growth—as Japan did in 2019, or as the USA is intended to in 2031.
One complication looms large: climate.
The Heat Question
Traditionally, the Rugby World Cup runs from mid-September to early November—timed to avoid excessive overlaps with club competitions and ensure temperate playing conditions. But in the Gulf, those months remain blistering.
In Riyadh, Doha, and Dubai, September temperatures routinely soar above 40°C (104°F), easing only slightly by November. Even with air-conditioned stadiums, the demands of high-impact, 80-minute Test rugby stretch the limits of safety.
The obvious solution? A winter World Cup. Much like FIFA’s 2022 edition in Qatar, a December-to-January window would offer more manageable daytime highs in the 20–28°C (68–82°F) range. But that shift would ripple through the global rugby calendar—requiring club seasons, broadcast contracts, and international tours to pivot in sync.
The Pros: Expansion, Inclusion, and Commercial Gold
Yet despite these challenges, the commercial upside is considerable—and increasingly difficult to ignore.
For World Rugby, new markets mean new lifeblood. Participation rates in traditional heartlands have plateaued. Broadcast revenue, while strong, has limited room for growth in established territories. The Gulf bid unlocks vast new audiences: from Emirati nationals to the millions of sport-loving South Asian expats working across the region, especially in the UAE and Qatar.
And crucially, there’s precedent. The Dubai Rugby Sevens has long been a jewel in the Sevens Series crown—an electrifying convergence of sport, spectacle, and international camaraderie that draws over 100,000 fans each year. It’s proof that the Gulf not only understands rugby culture—it can amplify it.
The region has also reinvented boxing. Riyadh Season transformed the sport’s global narrative, with heavyweight showdowns like Tyson Fury vs. Francis Ngannou attracting millions of viewers and heavyweight commercial backing. The Gulf’s sports ecosystem has matured—flush with sovereign wealth, backed by elite logistics, and hungry for world-class content. A Rugby World Cup could unlock new partnerships with tech giants, luxury brands, and global airlines—all eager to align with premium, prestige-driven events.
Bridging Hemispheres: The Gulf’s Strategic Location
Geographically, the Gulf sits at a crossroads of continents—a meeting point between East and West that offers both promise and logistical complexity. For European rugby nations, the draw is clear: six- to seven-hour flights from London, Paris, or Dublin make the region far more accessible than far-flung hosts like New Zealand or Australia. South Africans also benefit from manageable travel times. The region’s aviation hubs—Dubai, Doha, and Riyadh—are powered by world-class carriers like Emirates and Qatar Airways, offering frequent, competitively priced connections and a history of scaling for mega-events, as seen during the FIFA World Cup. But for fans from the Southern Hemisphere, the journey is more arduous—17 to 20 hours from Sydney or Buenos Aires, with higher ticket costs and jet lag to match. Still, the Gulf’s position is a strategic compromise: a central hub that halves the globe, offering connectivity, infrastructure, and ambition—if not proximity—for all. The real test lies not in distance, but in delivering a tournament that feels like rugby’s party, in a region where the game is still learning to walk.
The Cons: Culture, Legacy, and Authenticity
Still, the sceptics are not without cause.
Human rights remain a lingering concern. The treatment of migrant workers in the lead-up to Qatar 2022, while the subject of reform, left scars on public perception. Critics ask: can a sport built on fairness and inclusion thrive in regions where gender equality, LGBTQ+ rights, and freedom of expression remain sensitive?
Then there’s the question of rugby’s intangible heritage. It’s more than just a game—it’s community, clubhouses, muddy fields, and generational bonds. Can this spirit take root in places where the sport is still nascent?
“It’s one thing to host a tournament,” says former England lock Simon Shaw, now consulting in Dubai. “It’s another to build a rugby nation. Legacy can’t just be a billboard. It has to be lived.”
Opportunities: Beyond the Try Line
Yet amid the skepticism lies opportunity.
If handled with sincerity and substance, a Gulf-hosted Rugby World Cup could be a landmark in rugby’s global journey. Imagine nations playing in front of thousands of their diaspora in Abu Dhabi. Picture schoolchildren in Riyadh learning the game alongside elite coaching programmes. Envision new club leagues, women’s development pathways, and corporate partnerships lighting up the region like never before.
It could also be a diplomatic bridge—a soft power tool that connects East and West through sport. Rugby, with its emphasis on respect, discipline, and teamwork, could serve as both mirror and messenger for broader societal change.
Who Gets to Play? Qualification, History, and the Identity of a Host
Of course, hosting brings not only opportunity—but a profound question of identity. If the Gulf trio wins the right to host the 2035 tournament, one complex issue looms: who takes the automatic qualification slot?
Since the inaugural Rugby World Cup in 1987, the host nation has always received an automatic berth—a tradition that’s equal parts practical and aspirational. It’s not just a logistical courtesy; it’s a statement of inclusion. Whether it was England in 1991, South Africa in 1995, or Japan in 2019, the presence of the home team on the pitch has rallied national pride, sparked stadium-filling excitement, and validated the host’s monumental investment. It’s more than a free pass—it’s a promise: you belong here. For Japan, that promise turned into a phenomenon. Their unforgettable 2019 run lit a fire under the domestic game and captivated the rugby world. The same logic now underpins the USA’s guaranteed spot in 2031, where rugby remains an emerging force on a crowded sports stage.
But what happens when the host is not a nation, but a trio? If Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Qatar succeed in their joint bid for 2035, it would pose an unprecedented question: would all three countries receive automatic qualification? Would World Rugby select one as a representative host? Or could we see the return of a united regional side—a modern-day “Gulf XV”?
Ironically, such a team once existed. The Arabian Gulf Rugby Football Union (AGRFU) represented a combined side from across the Gulf Cooperation Council states from 1974 until its dissolution in 2010. For decades, the AGRFU fielded a regional squad in international competitions, flying a collective flag in a sport still finding its footing in the region. But in 2008, the IRB (now World Rugby) deemed this structure an outlier in a sport built on national representation. It recommended a transition to individual national unions—and so the AGRFU was disbanded. The UAE Rugby Federation was first to emerge, gaining full membership in Asia Rugby by 2011 and World Rugby by 2012.
Now, the sport faces a different kind of crossroads. As rugby sets its sights on new frontiers, the question isn’t just administrative—it’s existential. Can the game stay true to its deeply rooted traditions while embracing the unknown? Can it welcome new flags to the field while preserving the soul that binds the global rugby community?
A Turning Point?
So, should World Rugby take the leap?
To do so would be to embrace both promise and peril. To redefine tradition while preserving its heart. But it would also be a bold signal to the world: that rugby, like the times, is changing. No longer confined to rain-soaked pitches and empire’s reach—but reimagined for a new century, in a new setting, on new soil.
As the Gulf breeze rustles through futuristic stadiums and ambition simmers beneath the sand, the future of rugby might just lie where no one thought to look.
The scrum is forming. The world is watching.
The next move? It’s up to rugby.
Have Your Say
As rugby contemplates its next great leap, the question is no longer whether the Gulf can host the World Cup—but whether it should. Is this bold bid a gateway to global growth, or a gamble with the game’s soul?
What’s your verdict?
Would you welcome a Rugby World Cup in Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and the UAE?
Does it represent progress—or compromise?
Join the conversation. Share your thoughts on the RuckThis.ie LinkedIn or Facebook using #RugbyInTheGulf. Let the global rugby community hear your voice.