Andy Farrell married an England rugby legends sister - she's his biggest fan

The pair have been side by side for nearly 30 years, navigating everything from becoming parents as teenagers to the rollercoaster of Farrell’s playing and coaching career. They’ve even packed up and moved their lives across the Irish Sea.

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Both grew up in Wigan, Manchester, with Irish roots stretching back generations. Andy previously told  : “The hardest part is certainly for Colleen. Yeah, 100 per cent. And Owen's sisters, and the young fella Gabriel, it's weird for them. They've got unbelievably mixed emotions, I've no doubt… they hope that both sides do well. And that's not going to happen, is it?”

The Irish Times: “Everyone from the north-west of England is from Ireland. You go from Liverpool straight across the easy Lancs to Manchester and it's full of Irish. I've got [Dublin] ancestry that goes back three or four generations, and so has my wife.”

The couple has never publicly shared how they first met, but Andy’s former Wigan teammate Sean O’Loughlin — who also happens to be Colleen’s brother — may have played a part.

They became parents at 16, when their son Owen was born in September 1991. He’d go on to follow in Andy’s footsteps, becoming England’s captain and even playing alongside his father in 2008.

Andy’s old teammate Kris Radlinski once recalled: “Andrew and Colleen were young parents and that brings its different issues, but Andrew bringing Owen to work was great – he wasn’t any trouble to anybody. At the end of training everyone had time for him.”

Married in 1995, they later welcomed daughters Gracie and Elleshia and youngest son Gabriel — who may yet continue the Farrell rugby legacy.

While Andy now coaches Ireland, Owen plays for England — creating complex emotions at home. Andy once admitted to the Irish Independent

Colleen keeps her sense of humour, once posting a photo of Gabriel in both teams' kits, captioned: “This ok for Twickenham? Not Gabe with two tops on,” with a laughing emoji.

Now a stylish grandmother to Owen’s two sons, Colleen shines just as brightly off the pitch — recently rowing 100km for an IRFU charity challenge, calling it a “privilege” to take part.

As the sport grows faster, stronger, and more tactical, certain laws stand out as ripe for reconsideration—not to upend the game, but to make it fairer, safer, and more exciting.

We highlight four specific laws that, with thoughtful updates, could better reflect the way rugby is played today. These ideas come from a deep respect for the game and a desire to see it flourish for players and fans alike.

World Rugby has shown it’s willing to adapt in recent years—these could be the next steps in that evolution.

Rugby has changed significantly over the years, and one of the biggest shifts is how the bench is used. These days, teams often bring on almost an entirely new forward pack late in the game. Big, fresh players crash into tired defenders, making the final 20 minutes less about skill and endurance, and more about brute force. Many fans and former players feel this has turned rugby into a collision sport rather than a contest of stamina and intelligence.

Reducing the number of substitutions would encourage players to pace themselves. Space would open up in the second half, creating more opportunities for creative play rather than endless phases of pick-and-go. It would reward fitness, smart decision-making, and those capable of performing for the full 80 minutes.

Fewer substitutions wouldn’t just make the game more exciting—it would make it fairer, safer, and more in line with the spirit of what rugby has always been about.

With the rise of 6–2 and even 7–1 bench splits, pioneered by Rassie Erasmus, the trend seems to be heading in the opposite direction. That’s all the more reason to act now.

The caterpillar ruck is one of those tactics that, while legal, just doesn’t sit right with many who love the game. It involves players lining up behind a ruck in a queue, giving the scrum-half extra time and space to kick.

It slows the game to a crawl, gives the defence no real chance to compete, and often feels more like a way to kill momentum than build it.

It may be clever, but it’s not entertaining. Fans want to see fast, hard-fought rugby—not box-kick after box-kick with a queue of bodies shielding the kicker. Eliminating or limiting the caterpillar ruck would speed up the game and reintroduce unpredictability at the breakdown.

This isn’t about removing strategy. It’s about keeping the game flowing and true to what makes rugby exciting: dynamic, contested play.

Referees have improved at calling “use it” earlier, which helps speed things up, but more needs to be done. Getting rid of the caterpillar ruck would go a long way toward fixing the issue.

The 20-minute red card was introduced as a middle ground—punishing dangerous play without completely ruining a match. But let’s be honest: it sends the wrong message. If a player commits a reckless or dangerous act, 20 minutes off the field doesn’t always feel like enough—especially for serious offenses, like a high tackle that could end an opponent’s game or season.

Rugby has made major strides in protecting players, especially around the head and neck. Keeping the full red card—where the offending team plays a man down for the rest of the match—reaffirms that commitment. It makes the consequences clear: cross the line, and your team suffers. That’s how you change behaviour.

Yes, it’s tough. Sometimes it may seem harsh. But safety must come first. It’s about respecting the game and the long-term health of every player on the field.

In many ways, the 20-minute red gives officials a cop-out. It’s often seen as the easy option to avoid controversy—even when a full red card is justified.

Few things in rugby divide opinion quite like the driving maul from a lineout. For some, it’s a show of power and coordination. But for many fans, it feels like a loophole — a near-guaranteed way to score that sucks the creativity and unpredictability out of the game.

A well-drilled pack can set up a maul five metres out, trundle forward almost unstoppably, and fall over the line for a try. Where’s the skill in that? It’s become rugby’s cheat code — more about physics and numbers than ingenuity or flair.

Outlawing the maul as a direct scoring weapon would open the game up. Instead of endless rolling rucks towards the try-line, teams would need to find inventive ways to use space, pass under pressure, or outsmart the defence. That’s what gets fans on their feet.

Defenders, too, would benefit. At the moment, they’re often left with little option but to illegally collapse a maul, leading to a penalty or yellow card. Take away the automatic try-machine, and we’d see fewer cynical infringements, less frustration, and a fairer contest.

The maul will always have a place as a tactical tool in the middle of the pitch — but when it’s allowed to dominate the scoreboard, it turns rugby into something it was never meant to be.