Punishments that fit the crimes are urgently required to halt the scandals tarnishing rugby's reputation, writes Alan Good

RUGBY types intent on sneering in the face of football famously like to say theirs is a thug's game played by gentleman, while the round-ball version is a gentleman's game played by thugs.
The egg-chasers also like to claim football has much to learn from rugby - respect for the referee coming top of the pile - but they would probably find it harder to admit that rugby has seemingly learned a thing or two from football as well, little of it positive.
For years the old guard have speculated that the increased stakes, money, fame and status on offer since the game turned professional would rot the sport from the inside out. They tut-tutted loudly at the fez hats at Saracens and the flowery pink jerseys at Stade Francais, and it was easy for the new breed to dismiss that school of opinion as outdated and backward.
But when eye-gouging, recreational drug cultures, armband protests and fake blood injuries have become bywords for the game in 2009, perhaps it's time to accept that the alickadoos might have been onto something all along.
Few sports have managed to get the deterrence principle right in a consistent fashion, but rugby needs to find that balance, and soon. Suspension lengths are always mired in murky water, but if GAA players face three months on the sidelines for knocking the referee's book from his hand, how can rugby defend an eight-week sanction for rummaging around in another player's eye socket?
Cynicism abounds in particular with the gouging cases of Schalk Burger and Sergio Parisse. One a former world player of the year, the other his country's talisman and sole true world-class operator; both got eight weeks.  Neil Best and Marius Tincu aren't quite household names in the world game - 18 weeks for them, punishments that slightly better fit the crimes but make a mockery of the lesser suspensions meted out to Burger and Parisse. One size should surely fit all when fingering those who have their gouging gloves on.
The Harlequins 'fake blood' affair is a different matter entirely; a pre-meditated act of cheating that will surely eventually see more than just Tom Williams - the player who faked a blood injury in the Heineken Cup quarter-final to allow the previusly substituted drop-goal specialist Nick Evans to return to the field - implicated.
Those who would rather see rugby's offenders have the book thrown at them will have been cheered by the ERC disciplinary officer Roger O'Connor's decision to appeal the level of sanction imposed on the club.
He has also questioned the decision of the disciplinary panel to dismiss misconduct charges against Dean Richards - whose resignation as director of rugby has hardly perpetuated any notion of innocence on his part - club doctor Wendy Chapman and physio Steph Brennan.
The whole thing has stank from the outset. Quins' initial refusal to admit anything untoward was going on and subsequent silence as they hung Williams out to dry offended just about everyone. I'm not alone in ranking the Londoners as a favoured "second team", and their 29-phase last-ditch onslaught that eventually allowed Evans to drop the winning goal against Stade Francais was my highlight of last season, but they must have an example made of them here.
Hard truths and harder punishments will be required, as they were in the Bath drugs case. Matt Stevens and Justin Harrison's careers are all but finished after they admitted taking illegal substances, while Michael Lipman, Alex Crockett and Andrew Higgins got nine-month bans for refusing to take tests to prove their innocence against similar charges.
Success on both the European and international fronts has ensured rugby is still the sport du jour in Ireland, while the positive vibes surrounding this summer's Lions tour - Burger's wandering fingers and Peter de Villiers' rambling and baffling defence of his man apart - will also help the game stay relatively recession-proof for now.
But long-term, if rugby is to maintain its links from grassroots to top tier and player to punter - the notion of the accessible high-street hero is something the sport trades on in a major way - then the disciplinary sideshows must become a thing of the past.
For all the scorn heaped on football from a certain type of rugby fan, its disciplinary procedures are superior to those of the oval-ball game. Consistent, iron-fist ruling across the board in rugby would be a decent first step in the right direction.