Tradition, Loyalty… and a Secret: When Rugby’s Values Become the Motive for Crime

Rugby is a world built on values. You hear them often — tradition, loyalty, honour, respect — but you only truly understand them when you see them lived. I saw them in the walking rugby team that welcomed me. I saw them in the club community that made space for me. And I saw them in the way rugby people treat each other, even when the game is tough and the bodies are battered.

So when I began writing Die Trying, I faced a question that mattered deeply to me:

How do you write crime fiction inside a world built on honour — without breaking the very values that make that world special?

The real photo I used for the cover of Die Trying

Rugby clubs are tight‑knit communities. They are places where people look out for each other, where loyalty runs deep, where respect is earned and given. They are not places where betrayal comes easily. And yet, that tension, between loyalty and truth, between honour and secrecy, is exactly what makes it such a powerful setting for crime fiction.

Crime doesn’t destroy values. Crime tests them.

In Die Trying, the rugby club isn’t just a backdrop. It’s a living environment. A community. A place where people know each other’s histories, strengths, weaknesses, triumphs and failures or don't. When something goes wrong, it doesn’t just affect individuals. It affects the whole fabric of the club.

That’s what makes the story compelling.

I didn’t want to sensationalise the rugby world. I didn’t want to exploit it. And I certainly didn’t want to misrepresent the people who welcomed me so generously. So I made a deliberate choice:

The values of rugby remain intact — but the loyalty and tradition at the heart of the club become the very forces that allow a crime to take shape.

The club in Die Trying is fictional. The characters are fictional. The Old Waltonians are fictional. But the values? Those are real.

They shape how characters react. They shape how secrets are kept, and revealed. They shape how loyalty becomes both protection and pressure. They shape how honour can conflict with truth. They shape how a crime can ripple through a community that prides itself on unity.

Writing crime inside a world built on respect meant writing with respect.

It meant honouring the people who welcomed me. It meant protecting the real club and its members. It meant creating a story that acknowledges the strength of rugby values — even when tested by darkness.

On Thursday, Die Trying launches. It’s a crime novel, yes. But it’s also a story about community, loyalty, belonging and the quiet strength of a world that holds itself to higher standards.

A world I’m proud to be part of.

Have a great week,

Helen x

(P.S. Die Trying lands on Thursday 27th August — grab your copy!)