Why Rugby and Hairdressing Are Strangely Similar

At first glance rugby and hairdressing have absolutely nothing in common. One involves mud, bloody noses, bruises and thirty people arguing over a ball shaped like a pig’s bladder. The other involves scissors, mirrors and a bloke asking you to take “just a little bit off the top.”

But after twenty years working in hairdressing and a lifetime around rugby and sports clubs, I’ve realised they’re built on exactly the same foundations. Both rely on trust, discipline, good banter and a moderate amount of flair and arrogance quietly holding together communities.

I’ve watched men donate their lives, their bodies and sometimes their souls to the ‘rugby club.’ From their fifteenth birthdays to weddings, and eventually even their funerals. The camaraderie inside a rugby club is something unique and inspiring.

As I write this, I’m sitting with 'another’ sprained wrist, a thumb that refuses to heal after years of abuse, and two herniated discs in my back, waiting for the next practice! But still I wear my ‘thumb club’ membership with barbaric pride.

Which does make you wonder, what exactly does rugby do to a person?

In rugby, young players learn from older ones. You watch how they tackle, their aggression, how they lead and how they carry themselves on and off the field. After the match you sit in the clubhouse with a well priced beer, asking questions about life while the older lads quietly pass on their wisdom.

Sports clubs are an education for youngsters, and hairdressing works in exactly the same way

When a young person joins our team at HARE in Oxfordshire, they don’t just learn how to cut hair. They learn how to talk to people, how to carry themselves professionally, and how discipline and hard work shape a craft. They learn how to earn someone’s trust while standing half an inch from their face with a pair of scissors.

That takes years. Just like sport.

No YouTube video can teach you how to read a head of hair, just as no coaching manual can teach you how to read a rugby match. Instinct, grit and determination are things you develop over time. Few have the grit and desire needed, most just have fear. The rugby clubs have always held British values above everything else. ‘Laws not rules.’Rules are rigid, laws invite interpretation. The clever players learn where the edges are, playing the referee as much as the opposition. It’s a bit like barbering really, you first learn the techniques properly, respect the craft, and only then do you learn how to break them. That’s the old-school way, know the law, test the boundary, and remember… if the ref didn’t see it, it didn’t happen.

Real Magic is Community

The real magic in both rugby and barbering isn’t the sport or the haircut, it’s the people.

A good rugby club isn’t just about winning matches. It’s about the characters. The battered old boys at the bar proudly wearing their injuries like trophies, the loyal volunteers who give their time to the club, and the coaches who dedicate years of their lives to passing on the game.

Why do they do it? Is it ego? Is it love? Or simply the desire to give something back?

There’s actually science behind it. Psychologists say being part of a team helps build resilience because shared struggle reduces stress. Because when we train together, competing together, and laughing afterwards the brain releases chemicals that strengthen trust and connection building happiness.

Perhaps the sports clubs and the barbershops are two of the last places in towns where people still sit down face-to-face and talk properly. Every week people walk through the door and talk about life, politics, relationships, business ideas and heartbreak. In the barbershop or salon you will quietly hear more honest conversation than in most doctors’ surgeries.

Are our values Changing?

It’s a strange feeling to train someone in your craft for a thousand hours, standing behind them day after day showing them every trick of the trade, only for them to open a shop next door.

You don’t see two rugby clubs operating out of the same town. It just doesn’t feel very English to compete directly with your peers. Yet this seems to be the direction the modern high street has taken. Where has that come from? Once upon a time every town had its butcher, its cobbler and its barber. A handful of tradespeople who knew each other and respected each other. Now towns like Witney seem to require fifteen barbershops and five vape shops, often run by people who have little interest in the community around them. There used to be a certain theatre to British shopkeeping. A tobacconist had character, ritual and a sense of tradition. A shinny vape shop, by comparison, feels rather soulless. Much like the rows of bright, suspiciously cheap barbershops that appear overnight.

Why the Shops Still Matters ?

Despite everything, the traditional shop still survives, and the reason is clear. The people! Our shops are one of the last places where generations still mix. You will see a student, a builder, a business owner and a candlestick maker debating the downfall of British society with a retired rugby prop.

No algorithms.
No screens.

Just local people shooting the breeze and putting the world to rights.

The same thing happens at sports clubs. Stories get told, advice gets given, and British traditions quietly pass from one generation to the next, usually through banter and moderate bullying cleverly disguised as character building.

That’s why places like HARE matter.

It isn’t just about haircuts. It’s about building community, sticking together, sponsoring local teams and having honest conversations with a bit of pride in doing things properly.

Because in the end the haircut fades. The match finishes. But the community you build around them keeps growing.