Celia Quansah and Meg Jones

Before lockdown, Celia Quansah and Meg Jones were living their best rugby lives. Paid to be professional sevens players, the former heptathlete and 2017 Rugby World Cup finalist had the Olympics in their sights. One Zoom call from the RFU’s Conor O’Shea later, and it feels like it’s all over.

The uncertainty of lockdown delivered one certainty for Celia Quansah and Meg Jones – they weren’t professional rugby players anymore. Together with their England sevens colleagues, both men and women, on a Zoom call, the RFU’s director of performance Conor O’Shea delivered the news. “We were told at the start of the pandemic there was some uncertainty,” says Meg, who had been a professional for four years, “but it was quite vague, and we had no notion at all that the programme might not continue. 

“About two weeks before we were told, there were rumours that there hadn’t been much movement in UK Sport funding – which the programme needed to survive – so people had started to look at other routes, jobs, clubs,” continues Meg.

“I was looking into coaching bits and pieces and reaching out to Premiership sides.”

“I was similar,” says Celia, who was in the second year of her professional life, “we had time on our hands anyway to look at others things outside of rugby – we’d not trained for months, but we were hoping that we were exploring for the future, not exploring to go out and get jobs straight away.”

“And then Conor told us that our contracts were over from the end of August, we’re being made redundant, that was it,” explains Meg. 

“I don’t know how I felt,” she responds to our question. “I was angry, annoyed, disappointed, sad – but you have to be grateful that you had the opportunity to be professional, to be part of a group of girls that had that aim together. And that dream hasn’t died, it’s just made it a lot, lot harder. 

“I think I was probably angrier towards the RFU, it was ‘what are you doing? You have a marketable product and you don’t want to prioritise it’. And it’s sad they could disregard us so easily. It seemed like it was really easy to do that.”

After Conor delivered the news, there was silence on the mass Zoom call. “Everyone just looked at the screen, everyone was silent,” says Celia. “You felt sorry for the boys because a lot of them were older than us, some had families, and this was their main source of income. 

“It was sad because they’d been together for a long time, over ten years for some, and it was sad for the friendships you have, the programme is what keeps you all together and while the friendships aren’t broken, it’s harder.”

“Conor asked if there were any questions, but I just left,” says Meg. “Conor left, and Simon [Amor] stayed on and then just said ‘anything you want to say?’, but there wasn’t much to talk about. I think people wanted to cool down and process, I don’t think anything much was said. I think someone asked if there was any way they can support us, now we don’t have a job, but there wasn’t much that could be done.”

For Celia, the emotion was the same. “It is anger,” she says, “but it is sad, we were supposed to be flying home from Tokyo at around that time, everything was going so well, everyone was having the best time of our lives, and now it’s the worst, we don’t have a job, and we don’t know how we’re going to get to Tokyo next year if it goes ahead. Everything came crashing down – there’s so many mixed emotions. It’s still quite fresh, it’s hard to say what we’re going to do.”

We first meet Celia and Meg a month before, in the midst of lockdown for a socially distanced photoshoot and interview. Celia is one of six children, a happy muddle of step and half siblings. “My oldest step brother is 50 and my youngest half-brother is 34,” says the 24-year-old from Richmond. “I was brought up in a massive sporting family.”

Athletics was the first goal. “I went to Oaklands Academy, which is basically to athletics what Hartpury is to rugby,” she says, “and the aim was always the Olympics.”

With the likes of sprinter Dina Asher-Smith and Morgan Lake as friends and peers, throughout her teens she regularly competed among the best, before reaching breaking point aged nineteen. She’d already begun to fall out of love with the sport. “I made some of my best friends in athletics, and when I was younger I was always up there, the one to beat, but then as you got older, everyone was catching up and there were younger athletes catching you up too. 

“In athletics you’re either good enough or not, it’s not a matter of opinion, there’s a qualifying standard and if you reach it you go [to the tournament], if you don’t, you don’t. It’s all based on statistics, so you could train for months and months, get there and muck up the first event and that’s you done. With heptathlon, hurdles is first so if you crash out, that’s you done – so it’s mentally tough.”

At a qualifying event in Liverpool, she remembers it was Liverpool, because ‘Jess was there’ – Ennis also often had to qualify at the same meetings as Celia. “I must have been nineteen, and it was an indoor pentathlon, but because you can’t throw a javelin inside, they cut it down from seven events to five. 

“If you got into the top two, you got your GB vest and you went to an international event in Spain,” she recalls. “I’d always just missed out, it was always gutting, but I knew I could do it. I was up there, if I put all my PBs together, I should have been up there. 

“I turned up in great shape and was smashing it, leading the whole competition through to long jump, and I’d got PBs in all the other events. But I’d been struggling with long jump due to a back injury and I started with two no jumps.

“I only had one jump left and couldn’t risk getting a no jump, so I had to move my start back – I was jumping so far from the board. It took me from first to fifth. 

“The last event was the 800m, which I hated – I used to cry before it – and I just couldn’t do it. I remember Morgan [Lake] and my dad sitting in the stand telling me how I could do it, but I’d have to run a five-second PB, and I was being stubborn. In the end, I don’t think I ran it at all.”

She went to study sports science at Loughborough and continued with athletics, focusing on hurdles, but her heart wasn’t in it and so, aged 21, she tried her hand at rugby. Her speed and athleticism were enough to get her a game in the BUCS league within two weeks of picking up a rugby ball for the first time. “I remember being so scared,” she says, “I only have one memory of the game, I made a break down the wing but didn’t know about moving my feet so I just ran straight into her – I made about fifty yards though.”

The fifty yards were enough, as her details were passed on to James Bailey, the England women’s head coach, who put her into the development process. She’d played her first game of rugby ever in February, and by March she was facing Wales, Scotland and England for the development side. “After that BUCs game I had a sevens trial at Bisham, and we had gym testing, which I smashed – I love the gym. Then we had 40m sprint, fine. Then it was 400m followed by 1,200m. At this point I’d not done athletics for a while so wasn’t at my fittest. I blitzed the 400m, then had 20 minutes to recover, but I hadn’t recovered at all. I ended up running and just thinking I can’t stop whatever happens, so I was throwing up as I ran, all I was thinking was ‘don’t stop’. I think I did it in seven minutes, which was rubbish.”

The attitude paid off, as she got through the trial, and within months of playing her first-ever rugby game, she was offered a development contract with England. “They didn’t say anything to me after the trial, so I went home thinking I’d done really bad, but I found out later that one of the reasons I made it was that I didn’t stop, I kept going.”

October, still the same year as that first-ever BUCS game, another call-up. “They asked me to go to the fifteens camp, as they were playing South Africa that week,” she says. “I did a gym test and training session with England, but felt something go in my foot.”

The injury robbed her of another incredible opportunity to complete the most epic debut season of all time, but she only had to wait another few months before she was offered a full-time sevens contract the following year.

Only three years into her rugby life, Celia admits she’s still coming to terms with the game. “We take the piss out of her because she can’t catch,” chips in Meg, who has been listening to Celia’s story the whole time, “but then she has hardly touched a ball really, that’s why. 

“Now I think about it you’ve come far haven’t you?” she says to Celia.

“Oh, thanks!”

“We often just throw random stuff at her to see if she catches it,” adds Meg.

“But she has the attributes for rugby, she’s about 6ft 2in...” “I’m 5ft 9in actually, I’ve just got loads of hair,” interrupts Celia.

“But she can jump,” continues Meg, “she has aerial ability, she’s big, quick – that’s what you need in rugby, isn’t it?”

Meg’s story is different. Growing up in Cardiff, she always played rugby and at sixteen was selected for the AASE Academy at Hartpury College, overseen by England World Cup winner Nolli Waterman.  “I only went there to play rugby,” she says. “If you were thinking about going there, Nolli was the one that rang you up – that’s why you remembered Hartpury, because Nolli Waterman rang you up, she made it forefront of your mind.  

“It was the only professional set up about, and loads of us who got in had England honours: Abbie Brown was the year above me, Kelly Smith, Zoe Aldcroft, Sarah Bern, loads of us...”

No sooner had she arrived, aged seventeen, she was called up by England sevens for the Euros and the following year she earned a fifteens debut – against the Black Ferns on a summer tour to Calgary where they faced Canada and USA as well. “I was riddled with injury early on because I was quite small,” she admits. “You never really defended much in women’s rugby at a young age, especially if you were dominating. 

“I was starting at ten – against the Black Ferns – and I didn’t think it was a big thing then because I knew they were just rotating players but, now I think about it, it was. Especially as my opposite ten was weighing 100 kilos, and I’m only about 63 kilos.” 

The game lasted a single half for Meg as she dislocated a shoulder – an injury that occurred far too often for her liking – but it put her in the mind of the coaches who would go on to select her for a second cap against Canada the following year and then the 2017 Rugby World Cup squad. 

In the midst of that, she made it to the Olympics in Rio, as a non-playing reserve. “Midds [Simon Middleton, England coach] had wanted to start me in games at the World Cup to save other players, so I started against Spain, came on against USA and Italy, before benching in the semi,” she says. “But then Nolli got concussed in the first 30 minutes and it was ‘Jonesy, you’ve got to go on’. 

“Scaz [Emily Scarratt] went to full-back and I went in at thirteen – me and Scaz, like for like,” she laughs. “I played out of my skin.”

An understatement, she not only stopped a French try with a last-gasp tackle, but also scored a decisive try in the 20-3 win that took England to the final against New Zealand. “I started the final, and I think I touched the ball twice,” she says. As we know, they lost 41-32, albeit in one of the greatest World Cup games of all time. Meg then returned to the sevens fold, with Tokyo 2020 next on the horizon. 

Meg and Celia have been dating for a year, and their decision to spend lockdown together seems to have worked for them. “We’ve loved it,” says Meg. “It’s easier for training, because when one of you doesn’t want to, the other can push them. 

“You don’t like racing me though do you,” she says to Celia, “I’d love us to race, but she won’t do it...”

Any reason? “I’m just not really like that,” says Celia. “Meg is energetic all the time, whereas if I don’t need to do it, I don’t do it.”

“Because you’d lose,” cuts in Meg. 

“Yeah right,” responds Celia. “I just do what I need to do, whereas Meg watched The Last Dance on Netflix and went straight out and bought a basketball and was like ‘come on, let’s go play’. I’ll play for ten minutes and get bored.”

Being a couple in the same professional environment hasn’t been an issue. “Because of the type of people we are, it works,” says Meg, “we’re happy to spend time together, but we know when it’s professional and when it’s not. 

“It’s about reading a situation, we’re not stupid people, it’s common sense. If you keep it professional, and you know it’s not affecting the team, then there’s no harm in it,” she says, adding with a laugh, “love is love isn’t it?”

As Celia cringes, she adds. “It’s only been hard when we were apart because I was injured and you were there playing with the girls, and I wanted to be there too!”

Couples in women’s rugby have always been part of the fabric, as it should be, although in contrast to the men’s game. “Even the straight girls in the team will be advocates for Pride and the women’s movement,” says Meg. “It’s always been natural, especially being a woman in a masculine or male-dominated sport. You always have that sense of being an advocate for being a powerful woman, and Pride is one of those things.

“When people actually get involved in women’s rugby, when they see the players and the people, they are always like, ‘well, why wouldn’t I support them? If that’s who you are, why wouldn’t I support that?’. 

“I’m no protestor, I’m not one who always says, ‘I’m gay, I’m gay,’ but what Pride has done is allow us gay girls and guys to do that in a comfortable setting. 

“I never felt comfortable to be gay until I was in a group of girls that were all saying to me, ‘it’s fine, it’s fine, just do it, if that’s how you feel’.

“I came out properly to my mum and dad when I was about nineteen, which was quite late, because I’d been seeing girls when I was sixteen or seventeen,” continues Meg. “But my sister is also gay and when she came out, it wasn’t a big thing, but she was really upset about it. It’s funny because my dad was always like, ‘why doesn’t she just tell us?’.

“That’s the thing though, you wouldn’t walk in and tell your parents you’re straight would you? So the way I did it was just to bring girlfriends back, no different to if I’d bring a boy back. They got the gist then. I personally don’t think you need to say ‘I’m gay’, just as I wouldn’t go around saying I’m straight.

“Although it was probably different for you?” she says, addressing Celia. 

“Yeah, in athletics it’s not as common, or maybe I’m oblivious,” she responds. “I only had my first girlfriend when I started playing rugby, it’d been boys up to then. I didn’t struggle with it though, I knew family would be fine, the only thing was that I’d had a long-term relationship with a boy, so I just thought ‘oh God, my family will never expect it’. 

“But I just did the same, brought a girl home and it was, here you go. We’ve never even spoken about it. And they love you, don’t they?”

Meg nods.  

At the time we first speak, Conor has yet to make his Zoom call, so both are focused on medalling at the Olympics, although they do worry about the future. “I worry about that because I’m nowhere in a position to buy a house which is one of those milestones in life isn’t it?” says Meg. “And if my contract ends, I’ll have to find a job.”

“It’s not like with the boys,” says Celia, “if they lose the contracts, there is the chance of still being a professional in the Premiership or even the Championship, but for us, unless we’re playing for England, we’re not getting paid and that’s it.”

“And that can happen in rugby,” accepts Meg. “It’s natural that you can get cut off when they don’t need you, because you are a number to them, and that’s fair because there’s a business they have to run. It just means that you have to make selfish decisions in life, the pandemic has shown us that.” 

Back to the present, and the pandemic costing both Meg and Celia their livelihoods and decisions are being made. Meg is leaving the house she normally shares with team-mate Abbie Brown, as the lack of income makes it impossible to pay the rent. “I’m lucky I [usually] live at home, so it was fine for me,” says Celia, “but Meg’s home is in Cardiff, and she was left with no income and nowhere to live, and needing to play in the Premiership but with no clubs in Wales.”

In the short-term Meg is moving into Celia’s family home. “It makes it a bit easier as we’re always able to check-in with each other,” says Meg on the pair going through the upheaval together. “But look, we’re still gunning for it, it’s just the path looks different now and we have to find a way to better ourselves before the Olympics.”

“Yeah, the world series is still going ahead,” adds Celia, “it’s just going to look very different. England will still send a team, it’s just going to be camp-based, we’ll go in a week before the tournament, train together, play, then go back to our day job – we’re just going to be playing as amateurs now.”

“It’s the biggest step back in rugby history,” says Meg.

“It just feels that the sevens is cheap in the grand scheme of things to run the programme,” admits Celia, “and however much it costs, it feels like they [the RFU] don’t want to do it. We know everyone has been hit hard by covid, but it’s frustrating.”

“They’re prioritising one stream of revenue which is the men, and yet there’s probably five others if you distribute the money, you can’t just keep putting the money down the same funnel all the time.”

Meg has managed to pick up some work, coaching Barnes women and the occasional schools’ session. “It’s pennies though, not a salary,” she says, “you can’t live off it.  

“We’re all literally going back six years at the moment, and once you’ve had a taste of that, you know what professionalism can do for the standard.”

The pair believe that UK Sport funding is still being chased by the union, but there’s little communication, with no dates in the diary for catch-ups or updates.

And holding out little hope that the RFU can find the money, the sides are taking matters into their own hands. “As players, we’re now looking to get external funding, and trying to get funding ourselves, so we can run our programme. The RFU say the obstacle is money, so let’s try and see how we can fund that. 

“The men and women are coming together  to see if we can fund the programme through individual investment. We’re helping ourselves out, we’re not sitting down doing nothing.

“We’re going to do whatever we can to get there [to the Olympics].” 

Story by Alex Mead

Pictures by Philip Haynes