STUART CHARLTON was born in London and now lives near Hull in Yorkshire, coming late to Rugby League.
In this article he offers some advice about how to popularise the game in the capital city.
I grew up just ten minutes from Twickenham Stadium, in a rough-as-nails council estate where football was king and rugby union was for the posh lads in purple chinos.
For most of my youth, Rugby League wasn’t even on the radar. It felt distant — not in miles, but in meaning.
League didn’t get the airtime, didn’t get the headlines, and certainly didn’t have anyone singing about it down south. And when it was on TV, it lacked the context — polite applause, a try here or there, a bizarre scrum that didn’t really scrum. It didn’t look tribal. It didn’t feel alive.
Then five years ago, everything changed. I got a free ticket to watch Hull KR with my lad. That was it. The atmosphere, the honesty, the intensity — it hit me like a shoulder charge. League wasn’t just a sport. It was a feeling. And that feeling hasn’t left since.
Now, I’m 51 and still lacing up my boots (to the dismay of my wife, knees and GP), but the pride runs deeper than the bruises. My wife and daughter are staunch Hull FC fans. We’re a divided household on derby day, but united by the game. It’s not just a pastime — it’s a passion. It’s a ritual. It’s family.
And that’s where Rugby League wins. It has a soul. It’s tribal, like football but built around humility and respect. It’s raw, resilient, and gloriously unpolished. You don’t fake injuries in League. You don’t go hiding. And no one needs to be told to get stuck in — because it’s the only way you survive.
The Missed Opportunity
Rugby League is proud of its Northern roots. Rightly so. It was born in working-class towns forged by coal and character. Those roots gave the sport more than history — they gave it an identity. But if we’re serious about growing the game, it’s time to stop treating geography as destiny.
London is Rugby League’s greatest untapped opportunity.
Not just for gate receipts, not just for balance sheets — but for its future.
The capital is bursting with kids who already live the Rugby League values: resilience, toughness, defiance. They just don’t know the sport exists. And when they do, we’re still too polite in how we invite them in.
Football gets it. You grow your base in playgrounds, parks, cages. You make yourself visible where life is tough, not polished. Union — for all its elegance and tradition — doesn’t always speak that language. But League does, although it just whispers when it should be shouting.
We don’t need more suits and blazers. We need boots, boroughs, and bare-knuckle spirit. We need jumpers for try lines, four kids and a ball, and a campaign that feels like a dare.
#ToughEnough
That’s the energy. That’s the hook. You challenge the next generation the way football and UFC do — with swagger and grit.
Campaigns like:
– #ToughEnough
– #TooSoftForRugbyLeague
– #NotToughEnoughPlayFootballInstead
– #TryUnionIfYouDon’tLikeTackling
– #OneBallTwoTeamsNoPads
– #JumpersForTryLines
They’re cheeky, but they land. Today’s youth scroll at speed. You’ve got a second to stop their thumbs. So stop it with something raw and real. Show a footballer rolling on the floor from a light shove — cut to a League player getting up smiling after a tackle that would make most of us cry. Show Union fly-halves kicking back and forth for ten minutes — cut to a breakaway try that ends with bodies flying and fans on their feet.
You’re not insulting other sports. You’re owning your difference. And League’s difference is its power.
Meet Them Where They Are
London’s kids don’t need a lesson in toughness. They live it. What they need is to see that there’s a sport that matches that energy — and a club that believes in them.
We need cage-style versions of the game. We need after-school leagues, park pop-ups, and community takeovers. And we need to speak their language. Bring in influencers, local comedians, grime MCs — people they follow and respect. Let them do the talking.
The London Broncos should be the spearhead of this. Not just a club — a statement. A movement. They should be front and centre in schools, youth centres, social feeds. Not asking politely for attention, but demanding it.
Billboards that say: “We’re not your second club. We’re your first fight.”
Socials that throw down the challenge: “Think you’re tough? Try 10 minutes of this.”
Give these kids pride. Give them a cause. Give them a game that reflects their reality.
Tribalism Sells
League already has the secret sauce — it just needs to bottle it better.
Nothing compares to being in the stands at a League game with 9,000 fans belting out “A Little Respect” like it’s Wembley or 12,000 Hull FC fans roaring “Old Faithful” like they’re defending their postcode. It’s football’s tribalism with none of the toxicity. It’s emotional voltage on tap.
And that’s what sells. Not stats. Not structure. Feeling!
Football didn’t conquer the world because of tactics. It did it with chants, loyalty, and raw energy. League already has that — it just doesn’t always know how to market it.
Let London build its own culture. Not by copying the north, but by embracing its communities — from Brixton to Barking, Hackney to Hounslow. Let each one bring its own voice to the game.
The north won’t lose its identity. It’ll gain an echo. One that multiplies the passion, not waters it down.
Long-Term Thinking
This won’t all show up in gate receipts tomorrow. But build it right, and it will show up in lifelong fans, academy players, and eventually — trophies. The NFL didn’t grow in the UK by waiting for fans to find them. They came with stories, access, personalities. League already has all of that. It just needs to believe in itself.
The players? They’re perfect. Tough. Humble. Relatable. The values are already baked in — we just need a bigger microphone.
For years, the strategy seemed to be targeting the Union crowd — a crowd that, while loyal, isn’t looking for an alternative. Trying to win them over was always going to be like trying to sell boxing gloves at Wimbledon. It misses the point entirely.
Now don’t get me wrong — I still love Union. I’ve played it since I was 7, and still throw on the boots each season, much to my wife’s horror. But the truth is, Rugby League was the game someone like me should have found decades ago. Growing up, all we really had was Union or football. No one ever put League on our radar. And that’s the missed opportunity. League should have been the natural fit for kids like me — working-class, full of fire, and always looking for a challenge.
This isn’t about abandoning tradition. It’s about future-proofing it. It’s about making sure that kids from every walk of life get to fall in love with this game the same way I did — in the flesh, in the moment, feeling every tackle in their chest.
Because Rugby League isn’t for everyone.
And that’s exactly why it should be everywhere.