Debt collectors, dodgy turf and medical bills: the brutal realities of life in MLR

O ne year ago, Mark O’Keefe helped the Austin Gilgronis clinch their first Major League Rugby playoff place. The center and his teammates were elated. But just before they bussed two-and-a-half hours south-east to Houston for their final game of the regular season, their coach, Sam Harris, called a meeting.

“After beating San Diego, rumors started to circulate about our season ending prematurely,” O’Keefe said. “So the lads had a pretty bad feeling.”

Harris broke the news: the Gilgronis were disqualified. The following week, their sibling team, the Los Angeles Giltinis (also owned by and named for an Australian entrepreneur, Adam Gilchrist) was also barred from the postseason, the league citing unspecified rules violations.

Both franchises were liquidated. Shortly thereafter, O’Keefe and other players began receiving calls from debt collectors.

In MLR, where the salary cap is demonstrably lower than in other US professional sports leagues, team owners supplement contracts with housing stipends and other benefits.

“My credit score has taken a 120-point nose dive because team ownership stopped paying our rent,” O’Keefe said. “The team was responsible for actually paying the rent. I only put my name down on our lease as the tenant.”

In late October, after months of league silence, the LA and Austin players were informed of a dispersal and expansion draft two weeks later. Players were required to enter the draft, unable to negotiate outside it, if they wanted to play at the start of the next season.

“We were at the whim of the league,” said Bryce Campbell, the current US Eagles captain, a center for London Irish and Austin, now with the Chicago Hounds. “We sat there for months, unable to negotiate with other teams, and got