IF Fiji Men’s 7s coaches were chosen on likability, Ben Ryan and Gareth Baber would never have made the cut.
Both arrived in Fiji unknown, neither armed with glittering résumés nor trophy-laden coaching records.
Yet they were appointed on merit — for their technical expertise, deep understanding of the sport, and ability to construct high-performance environments.
The result? Two Olympic gold medals.
Ryan masterminded Fiji’s historic Rio 2016 triumph. Baber followed with gold at the Tokyo 2020 Olympics (played in 2021).
Their success was built not on personality or popularity, but on process, and uncompromising standards.
By contrast, Osea Kolinisau’s appointment appears to have been shaped not by coaching credentials, but by the influence of the so-called “stonewriters” a small group of former players whose credibility has since evaporated.
Likability is not translating into performance.
And it increasingly appears the Fiji Rugby Union may have been pressured by this group to dismiss Ben Gollings and elevate Kolinisau.
Gollings, who previously coached China and Singapore, struggled to win a title across 19 consecutive HSBC SVNS tournaments, though he did win the Rugby World Cup Sevens.
But promoting Kolinisau largely on public sentiment rather than proven experience has placed both the programme and the man himself in a difficult position.
Never before has a handful of former sevens players run an online skit campaign that effectively paved the way for a national head-coach appointment.
Fiji’s proud sevens legacy has never been built on personalities or popularity contests.
It has been forged through discipline, tactical identity, and coaches who command respect through results not applause.
That is why the present situation feels so unfamiliar.
For the first time, the national programme seems entangled in a web of social-media noise, emotional appeals, and external pressure that has seeped into high-level decision-making.
The influence of a vocal few has shifted focus away from process and toward perception and the on-field performances reflect that drift.
Yes, Fiji sits inside the top three after Dubai and Cape Town.
But that position owes more to the points system than to genuine dominance.
The performances have lacked rhythm, cohesion, and the trademark Fijian sharpness that once left opponents breathless.
The structure is inconsistent.
The defensive systems look uncertain.
And Fiji’s attacking flair, its greatest weapon when properly harnessed now feels disjointed and improvised rather than purposeful.
This has prompted respected figures, including ex-players and seasoned analysts, to question whether Kolinisau’s fast-tracked elevation was fair to him, to the players, or to the expectations of a rugby-obsessed nation.
Elite coaching demands more than past glory.
It requires experience, mentorship, and grounding in systems that deliver sustainable results.
Kolinisau, a decorated player and beloved captain, now finds himself navigating a role he may not yet have been fully prepared for through no fault of his own, but through a process that prioritised sentiment over suitability.
And that leads to a hard truth.
Likability does not win tournaments.
Viral skits do not build structure.
Fans, former greats, and the wider rugby public are not asking for miracles.
They are asking for accountability for a return to rigorous selection processes and decisions grounded in long-term vision, not momentary popularity.
Because Fiji Sevens rugby is bigger than any coach, player, or online personality.
It is a national treasure.
