More Blood, Sweat and Beers

by Lawrence Dallaglio

  Our last group game was against Canada at Invercargill in front of 14,000 spectators and I remember being made captain for the match, a proud moment for me. Leading up to the game I had a random thought about the respective team colours, as both Canada and ourselves played in red. Normally the visitors change their kit if there’s a clash, but as we were both effectively playing away from home I wondered what would happen. The decision was made, both teams would bring two sets of shirts and the captains would toss a coin to decide. You can imagine how thrilled the boys were when I walked into the changing room and informed them we were playing in green. The fact we were making Welsh history in so doing seemed to have little impact on the disgruntled mob, so as captain I decided to try and put a different spin on the situation. I told them how the shirts were clearly going to become collectors’ items and would probably be worth a fortune, if not immediately then in years to come. With no 4 × 4 trucks or acne cream to promote it was as close to making a few quid on the side as we were going to get. We thrashed Canada by eight tries to nil, and it was a great sight when the whistle blew for full time, to see the Canadians offering to swap shirts with none of the Welsh team prepared to accept.

  At the official dinner later that night I had to say a few words as captain. I knew the Welsh management were slightly worried about what I might say, as they considered me a bit of a loose cannon. I think I put them at ease when I began by talking about the historical links between the two countries. Canada had ruled itself but had close commercial ties to the British Empire and was indeed a prominent member of the Commonwealth. Many Welsh rugby coaches had spent time in Canada over the years developing the sport and furthering international relations. I then moved onto the match; apart from ‘hard luck’ there’s not a lot you can say about a forty-point drubbing, so I talked about the shirts.

  ‘I know many of you were disappointed at not being able to swap shirts today,’ I said, ‘and that some of you were told the Welsh boys were not allowed to exchange shirts, while others were informed we only had two sets of kit for the tournament and as it looked as though we were now going to be staying in it longer than anticipated we had to hold on to them.

  ‘The truth is we’re all keeping our green shirts because we believe we’ll get a much better price for them back home in Wales.’

  The jaws of the Welsh management hit the floor. They couldn’t believe someone would openly flout the laws of amateur rugby, particularly at an official function with them in the room. I smiled and said I was only joking and wouldn’t dream of making money from the sport I loved so dearly. This may have placated the management but the entire squad knew what they were going to do with their shirts. Let’s just say no Welshman who played that day is currently the owner of a unique green Welsh shirt. Only joking.

  Stream of Consciousness

  Gary Rees

  Gary played his entire career at Nottingham, not a fashionable club, but having been born nearby in Long Eaton it seemed the natural destination for him and no one managed to persuade him to leave. Following retirement he has remained involved at Nottingham in a coaching capacity. One of the outstanding open-side flankers of his generation he played twenty-three times for England over a seven-year period, including two World Cups. It’s testament to his durability when you consider he was up against the likes of Peter Winterbottom, Andy Robinson and later Neil Back, and still maintained a place in the England squad. Gary was always a relatively quiet man in the bar after a match, but commanded huge respect from all those who came up against him on the pitch.

  ‘While his story, as he admits himself, doesn’t actually feature a World Cup incident, I felt it was just too good to miss out on.

  When Lawrence made contact with me regarding my World Cup memories I was delighted to help out but had one minor problem. Each story I supplied or suggested had already been submitted by another player from the same era. Having played in the first two World Cup competitions it appears I am severely lacking any original thought or material. I was keen to help but was informed that motorbikes and scuba-diving incidents from 1987 had already been covered, as had the kit debacle prior to the first match against New Zealand in 1991. So I decided to share my favourite story from my time as a player. It involves my debut game for the world-famous Barbarians. The tenuous link this story has to the World Cup is that many of the players who played in the game went on to represent their countries in World Cup campaigns. Not great, I know, but it is the best I could come up with.

  With the sport of rugby becoming professional in 1995, the approach of the Barbarians had to move with the times, but I was lucky enough to play when the team literally ‘turned up and turned out’. We never trained together, occasionally had a chat about what to do in certain areas of the pitch if awarded a penalty and very occasionally discussed what method of defence we would utilise. Many readers will remember the Baa Baas were known for one thing: open, running ‘champagne’ rugby. If we were in possession of the ball, no matter where it was on the field it was passed through the hands and we ran, even from behind our own try line. Whilst this provided great entertainment for the crowd it was absolutely knackering for the players on both sides. Having said that, it was a massive honour to be selected, and gave players the opportunity to play in the same team as other international players from all over the world. I always enjoyed observing the different styles of play and in particular meeting all the various characters.

  My debut was made in the mid-eighties during the famous Easter Tour which sadly no longer takes place. The fixtures were against Penarth, Cardiff, Swansea and Newport and took place over the four-day Easter break, with Cardiff on the Saturday my introduction to the team. The Barbarians side on that occasion was captained by a French international, someone I had not previously met. It became clear during the briefest of team talks his command of English was comparable to my command of French (extremely limited). However, he didn’t need to say much since we all knew the game plan. If we had the ball we ran, if they had it we were to do everything we could to get it back. Not rocket science, but effective.

  Well, it should have been effective, but unfortunately due to a lack of familiarity between the players on the Barbarians team we managed to drop the ball consistently during the first half and found ourselves a few scores down by the break. I absolutely hated to lose any game, especially when a crowd of 25,000 were watching from the stands and many more at home on television. Back then we used to stay on the pitch during the interval, normally a couple of minutes, with a segment of orange followed by a few well-chosen words from the captain. As I walked towards the centre line I vividly remember thinking to myself, what on earth is he going to say to inspire a better second-half performance? He might well have been effective if we all spoke French, something I’ll never know.

  He beckoned us in by waving his arms and as we approached he pointed the index finger on his right hand skyward and moved it in a rapid circular motion at the same time saying something resembling, ‘circle, circle, circle’. Fourteen of us formed a circle around the Frenchman as he indicated he wanted us to link arms and repeated the word ‘tighter’ several times. It was by no means conventional but I genuinely felt it was having the desired effect. I can only speak for myself, but the physical closeness of the boys as we ringed our leader made me feel very much part of the team and my desire to help my team-mates was increasing by the second. We all stared at the figure in the middle wondering if he was going to add a couple of words of advice to the physical motivation he had engendered.

  At that moment, standing enclosed by the tight circle, he lifted the right leg of his shorts, and had a piss on the pitch with his team acting as a shield from the eyes of the paying public and TV cameras. He finished his business, put the ‘little general’ away and with a ‘Gallic shrug’, wave of his arm and a ‘Merci’, he made his exit from the circle ready for the second half. Leaving the rest of us looking at the pool of bubbles as the liquid soaked into the pitch.

/>   Did we win the match? No, but it did provide me with a memory to last a lifetime.

  Unaccustomed as I Am . . .

  Finlay Calder

  Finlay represented Scotland from 1986 to 1991 gaining thirty-four caps, the last of which was against New Zealand in the 1991 World Cup. He is one of an extremely small number of men who have captained a successful British and Irish Lions tour, winning the 1989 series in Australia 2–1 despite losing the first Test. Some of the younger players on that tour went on to become seasoned campaigners on my first Lions trip in 1997; whenever references were made to previous Lions tours the name of Finlay Calder was always held in high regard as both a player and a leader.

  ‘Those of you who remember seeing Finlay play will recall he was not the fastest of back-row forwards, but his understanding of the game was second to none and more often than not he was in the right place at the right time in both attack and defence. Finlay was a hugely respected player who was not averse to giving his opposite number, or indeed any member of the opposition, a “gentle” reminder that he was around. If I were to describe him in one word it would be “uncompromising”.

  ‘Interestingly, Finlay’s twin brother Jim also played for Scotland (twenty-seven caps) and toured with the Lions in 1983. However, their international careers never overlapped as Jim retired the year before Finlay was selected (in truth he was dropped aged twenty-seven, but retirement sounded more dignified).

  I have very fond memories of the inaugural World Cup. It was played whilst the game was still well and truly amateur and the Scottish approach along with every other team in the tournament, with the exception of New Zealand, reflected this.

  There was nothing the Scottish Union could do about the location of the 1987 World Cup; New Zealand will always remain on the other side of the world, some 12,000 miles from Scotland. They could, however, have put some thought into the journey and perhaps how we were to prepare for the tournament on arrival. In true Scottish style our finest team of rugby players departed for the first-ever World Cup and spent close to fifty hours travelling economy class to New Zealand. The reason it took so long was due to delays somewhere in Asia and also the fact we couldn’t land in Christchurch on account of the weather. Unfortunately no one had made the pilot aware of this fact until we arrived just above Christchurch. He circled the airport a few times and then turned the plane back to Auckland to make his landing. The team were safe but about 600 miles away from where we needed to be. After several more hours hanging around we took another flight and completed our journey.

  We arrived at the team hotel midway through the afternoon and were informed we had thirty minutes to check in, get our training kit on and meet in reception. Once the bleary-eyed troops reconvened we climbed aboard a bus and were taken to our first training session. To be fair it was described as a ‘bit of a loosener’, no more than a run around to help get the journey out of our systems, just some stretching and touch rugby. Personally, I think a few hours in bed getting some rest would have been the better option. I’ve reflected on this World Cup with several players from Scotland and other countries and the consensus seems to be, everything was done with the best of intentions but looking back there were some crazy decisions made by management teams and coaches. Put simply, everything was not just amateur, it was amateurish.

  Professionalism, of course, still being some way into the future, we received no pay for our endeavours but all the players were given NZ$12 per day to cover incidental expenses and phone calls home. Not a huge amount but when saved up over the course of a week it did mean cocktail night every Wednesday was quite a lively affair for the majority of the squad and the occasional invited guest.

  Our last match in the group stage was against Romania in Dunedin and this game saw Colin Deans, our hooker, win his fiftieth cap, a very rare achievement back in the eighties. We arrived at the ground and had our customary pitch inspection. Looking back, I have no idea why we used to do this. It certainly didn’t prepare us for the atmosphere, as the stadium would have been less than 10 per cent full at the time. Some people think it provided us with the opportunity to look at the state of the playing surface so we could adjust our footwear or length of studs accordingly. In reality most of us had one pair of boots for matches, and an older pair for training (no spare studs). Fancy Dans might have had a pair with moulded studs in case the ground was really hard, but that was about it. The truth of the ‘pitch inspection’ is we always arrived early for matches because the management ‘snag time’ was never required and it gave us something to do before kick-off.

  We had a hard-fought battle against Romania, particularly in the first half, but by the final whistle we had run away with it 55–28. As we’d drawn with France in our first match we needed a healthy points tally to try and qualify in first place and thereby avoid New Zealand in the quarter-finals. Without the benefit of mobile phones we didn’t find out the score from the French match for some time, but at least we were through (France hammered Zimbabwe and took top spot in the group). We were all gathered in our changing room deep in the bowels of the main stand at Carisbrook, when Roy Laidlaw, our scrum-half, asked all the lads to take a seat. He was going to make a presentation to Colin in recognition of reaching the significant milestone in caps.

  Roy was not particularly comfortable speaking in public but I have to say he did an amazing job. He delivered one of the most meaningful, touching and heartfelt speeches I have ever heard. He expressed what an absolute credit Colin had been to his country and what a pleasure, indeed honour, it had been for many of us to play alongside him for so many years. There was hardly a dry eye in the changing room when Roy asked Colin to come up and receive a gift which the entire squad had contributed to (we must have cut down on the cocktail budget that particular week). No one moved. Initially I thought the emotion of the occasion had got to Colin and he was probably trying to compose himself before going up to receive his gift. A couple of seconds later Gavin Hastings and one or two others burst out laughing, which to be honest I didn’t feel was appropriate behaviour. I glared at Gavin, who actually had tears rolling down his cheeks as he said to Roy Laidlaw, ‘Did you not think to check whether Colin was here before making your speech?’ We all looked around and the only member of the squad missing from the changing room was Colin Deans.

  When Colin arrived a few minutes later, Roy delivered a similar speech but the moment had gone, the boys had moved on from sincerity to taking the piss. As I write these words I can still see the changing room, the spot where Roy was standing as he spoke, and I smile as I remember just how wonderfully amateur it all was in those days.

  Let Loose

  Nigel Redman

  Nigel managed to play 349 games for Bath Rugby over a sixteen-year period. He gained twenty England caps and was dropped on no fewer than eleven occasions. Unfortunately for Nigel he was “only” a fraction over 6ft 3in, which for a second row is not considered tall enough. Whenever he toured with England he would often arrive back in the UK as England’s No. 1 due to his immense athleticism and ball-handling skills. Sadly, several weeks after returning from tour, when his name came up in selection he would be deemed too small and therefore spent more time playing for his beloved Bath than he should have.

  ‘Apart from the numerous cup and league victories he achieved with his club, one of his personal highlights was being called into the 1997 Lions tour to South Africa whilst on yet another England tour to Argentina. His coach in Argentina was Jack Rowell, and when he broke the news to Nigel of his selection, Nigel looked at him with complete shock on his face and said, ‘I don’t believe it,’ to which Jack replied, ‘No, neither do I.’ He assumes Jack’s disbelief was down to his sadness at the loss of Nigel for the remainder of the Argentinian tour and not the simple fact he just couldn’t get his head round the idea that the Lions had requested Nigel. I think it’s probably best not to investigate that any further. Having arrived in South Africa Nigel captained a midweek Lions team to victory (5
2–30) against Orange Free State – an unbeaten Lions captain? There are surely not many of those knocking around the rugby world.

  ‘Nigel is still very much involved in rugby as Elite Coaching Manager at the Rugby Football Union.

  When Lawrence asked if I had a particular World Cup memory suitable for inclusion in this book, it occurred to me there was not one specific incident or occasion that stood out. What I have is a host of memories leading up to and throughout the event which highlight the difference between the amateur era and the modern professional approach. It may not be what you asked for, Lol, but it’s what you’re going to get.