by Peter Burns
He pulled off an incredible coup by persuading two of the brightest talents in Ireland to join the club – full-back Conor O’Shea and second-row Gabriel Fulcher – much to the irritation of the Irish Rugby Union, who were trying to attract and keep all their top players in Ireland. And just as Gallacher and Perrignon had made a significant difference to Henley, so too did O’Shea and Fulcher make a huge difference to how London Irish performed. But the move to bring these two players to the club had motivations other than just improving the player pool. Woodward was acutely aware of the club’s heritage and its identity with its fan base. While insisting on having the power to bring in whoever he wanted, no matter their nationality, he also recognised that there was a lack of quality Irish players at the club; in order to elevate the team out of mediocrity, to give the fans something to really bond with and feel pride in (which would, in turn, lift the spirits of the players on the pitch) he needed to build on the Irish identity within the squad. So once O’Shea and Fulcher were on board, he set about recruiting several more players from Ireland. Among those that he brought over were future Lions Jeremy Davidson, Malcolm O’Kelly and Rob Henderson and players who would enjoy stellar careers with Ireland, including David Humphreys and Victor Costello. At one stage, there were thirteen players in the Ireland squad who were playing at London Irish.
‘There’s no doubt that Clive helped transform the club,’ said Kieran McCarthy, the club’s manager, in an interview with The Guardian’s Richard Williams. ‘He had some really radical ideas, many of which we couldn’t put into practice because we didn’t have the money at the time. But by 1996 he had helped bring over Irish internationals such as Conor O’Shea, Gabriel Fulcher, David Humphreys and Niall Woods which was a pretty amazing coup at the time.’
Woodward continued his philosophy for playing the flat-line attack at London Irish and he made training fun – but there was always a clear separation between him and the team. He was the boss and his call was the only one that mattered. He picked the team and it didn’t matter how senior the player was, if they were having a dip in form, weren’t training hard enough, if they were making costly mistakes during games or were not sticking to his game plans, then they would be dropped – and considered for selection again only when the issues had been addressed.
Again he returned to Greenwood’s vision of Total Rugby. It took time for the players to adjust and there was a seminal moment before one league game when, just as the team was about to leave the changing room, Woodward lined them up in alphabetical order and told them to swap their shirts so that they were lined up 1 to 15 down this new order. It was a small psychological trick but it had a wondrous effect. Just this small change from the entrenched structures that they were all so used to set the players’ minds free and they went out and played as fully rounded rugby players, unrestrained by the restrictions of their traditional playing positions. They all looked to attack, to pass, to identify and target space. It had worked even better than Woodward had expected and he was delighted.
‘Clive was always trying to get players to think on their feet,’ said McCarthy. ‘In one game we sent out a team with different numbers on their backs. O’Shea, a full-back, wore No.2, Clive arguing that he wanted the players to be able to play anywhere. He was quite a character.’
They won promotion back to the First Division at the end of the 1995–96 season, just in time to begin the first full season of professionalism in England. But Woodward didn’t get the chance to guide the team through this major transition.
At the AGM in July a motion was put forward to have a new clause written into the club’s constitution that stated that only someone of Irish descent could be involved with the management of the team (with any exceptions to this to be made at the discretion of the committee). Woodward felt that it was a deliberate ploy to remove him from his position, despite his achievements with the first team. In many ways it was Woodward’s history with the Welsh Schoolboys repeating itself.
While the chairman tried to defend the motion and offered the caveat that the ruling, should it be passed, wouldn’t apply to Woodward, he felt that the xenophobia at the heart of the issue was too much for him. It felt like too much of a betrayal for what he had done, it touched a still-raw nerve and it showed him in a single moment that the club was not yet ready for the direction or the professionalism that Woodward wanted to drive through. His interest was in the players and focused on rugby – he had never had any interest in the politics of the club. But now politics was being forced on the rugby side of things and it was too much.
Alison Kervin interviewed Kieran McCarthy, rugby manager at London Irish at the time, for her biography of Woodward. McCarthy recalls the incident quite differently, stating that the motion had been put forward as a way of ensuring the Irish heritage was maintained at the club in the new professional era. Because the club had had to become an incorporated business, and as a result had had to remove certain clauses in their constitution that called for officers of the club to be of Irish birth or descent, they still wanted to make sure that the overall ethos at the club remained true to its Irish origins. ‘All it meant was things such as the green shirts, the Irish music, the association with Guinness and the celebration of St Patrick’s Day were kept. Nothing heavy,’ said McCarthy. But Woodward obviously didn’t see it that way. ‘He was too rash,’ continued McCarthy. ‘He lashed out without listening properly.’
After several weeks of apologising and reassurances, Woodward was persuaded to continue. The motion at the AGM hadn’t been passed but the whole experience had disillusioned him. He would not be at the club for much longer. Sales Finance and Leasing was continuing to expand rapidly and he was still only part-time as a coach. Woodward realised that he was over-stretching himself so he brought in an assistant coach. He chose Willie Anderson, the former Ireland second-row, and had the club employ him full-time. It was a sensible idea but it was also the death knell for Woodward’s time at the club. In October he turned up for training but was prevented from entering the changing room by a committee member who informed him that he had been replaced as head coach by Anderson. It was an ignominious end to his time at the club.
Looking back, Woodward is philosophical about his time with London Irish. He had relished the challenge of taking on a top team that was in trouble and turning their fortunes around. He had saved them, but not only that, he had developed as a coach and he had continued to prove to himself that his idealism to play Total Rugby could be achieved if a group of players bought into the idea. And perhaps most importantly, he learnt never to let politics interfere in his involvement with rugby again – although he had no idea at the time how that lesson would ultimately come back to haunt him.
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For the previous two seasons, as well as coaching at London Irish and running his company, Woodward had been one of the England Under-21 coaches. Don Rutherford, the technical director of the RFU, had been impressed by the Henley story and by the way London Irish were rallying themselves in the Second Division and when Woodward had been invited to Twickenham to make a presentation of his methods to a group of coaches in 1994 Rutherford had been bowled over by his ideas and his enthusiasm. The RFU had been looking for a new coach for the Under-21 side and it occurred to Rutherford that Woodward might be the perfect choice.
He had phoned Woodward with the offer of the position and Woodward was hugely enthused by the proposal – but on one condition: he had to choose his own coaching team and his would be the final say on training, tactics and selection. It took some negotiation but Rutherford was so intrigued by what Woodward had to offer as a coach that he agreed.
Woodward invited Andy Robinson of Bath, who was still playing for the club but was looking to cut his teeth in coaching, and Mike Poulson from Henley to come on board as assistant coach and manager respectively. A compromise had been made with Rutherford over former England prop Jeff Probyn’s involvement in the set-up – Rutherford had wanted him as manager, Woodward had wanted Poulson, s
o in the end Probyn was made forwards coach.
As the appointment of Mike Poulson as England Under-21 manager also demonstrates, one of Woodward’s strongest traits was a loyalty to those that he liked, respected and whose skills he appreciated. Over the years he would show this trait over and over again, while never forgetting the ruthless edge that is often a given in a competitive business environment. If he was required to make a difficult decision regarding an individual, he would rarely shy away from it, no matter how conflicted he might be personally over the issue. He understood that to succeed in both business and sport there was a time and a place for loyalty and a strong bond with individuals, but there was also a necessity for ruthlessness if the grand design required it.
It is important to bear this attitude in mind for all that is to follow.
Thinking back to Peter FitzSimons’ recollections of Alan Jones, it is remarkable how similar he and Woodward were as coaches – despite the two having never worked together. Where with Jones it had been ‘his way or the highway’, at Henley, London Irish and with the England Under-21s, it was very much a case of ‘Clive’s way or the highway’. But this is not to say that both men were unreasonably draconian – rather it is illustrative of a business leader in action in a sporting environment. Just as the boss of a company might be willing to listen to input from his staff, it is the boss who is ultimately responsible for the key decisions in the business, who needs to drive the company forward and who is in control of the larger success or failure of the company – and they are the ones who are ultimately accountable. Woodward believed in his vision, he articulated it brilliantly to the players, coaches and committee members and his passion and belief swept them all aboard alongside him. But he never forgot that it would be his head on the line if results went against him, just as it would be if, as a businessman, his company ran into difficulties and began to fail.
The Under-21 team worked very well together and his partnership with Robinson was particularly fruitful. Their similar philosophies to the way the team should play, along with their unbridled competitiveness, meant that they struck up a tremendous working dynamic.
After leaving London Irish, Woodward had resigned himself to the fact that he would have to continue to limit his involvement in rugby to a part-time basis only – his own business was doing too well for him to consider a full-time move into coaching. So it was with this understanding that Robinson phoned him one day just a few weeks after Woodward had left London Irish. Robinson was a fellow graduate from Loughborough and had been as influenced and inspired by Jim Greenwood as Woodward had been. Robinson was a fiery former England open-side who had played for Bath for his entire career before stepping up to become head coach in 1997 – the first full-time professional coach the club had ever had – with the departure of Brian Ashton after a disappointing season. Robinson’s Test career had been limited to just eight England caps, but that was primarily because he had had the misfortune of competing for the number seven shirt with Peter Winterbottom, considered by many to be one of the finest open-side flankers ever to play for England. Robinson, however, was very highly regarded as a player, undoubtedly talented (he was a Lions tourist in 1989) and hugely influential in the great Bath sides of the eighties and early nineties.
Outwardly Robinson and Woodward were quite different, but they were kindred rugby spirits. When Robinson learnt that Woodward had become a free agent he realised that a marvellous possibility had emerged and asked Woodward if he would be interested in becoming a part-time coach at Bath. For Woodward, it was exactly what he had been looking for. Bath were one of the leading sides in the country, they liked to play an expansive game and played at perhaps the most stunning ground in England, the Rec. They had significant financial backing and superstars on their roster in the shape of Jeremy Guscott, Phil de Glanville, Jon Callard, Mike Catt, Adedayo Adebayo, Victor Ubogu and had just signed the Welsh legend Ieuan Evans. There were also young internationals of the future in Mark Regan, Mike Tindall and Matt Perry. It was an ideal situation.
‘When Clive came to the club for a short time, Bath were in turmoil,’ recalled Matt Perry. ‘Our coach, Brian Ashton, had been sacked and there were cameras everywhere: a BBC documentary was being made about us. Clive looked upon the club as a business and brought a sense of professionalism to the place. He was also a hands-on backs coach and every coaching session was different, with little ideas such as turning up in smart rather than casual clothes to make us feel professional – ideas that didn’t go down too well with some of the older hands. Clive had this thing about creating the right image, and about players taking responsibility once they had crossed the whitewash and were on the pitch.’
Woodward employed a driver to ferry him from the office to Bath twice a week, allowing him to work during the journey, and he and Robinson forged an impressive working relationship, relishing the talent at their disposal. ‘It was a magic time,’ recalled Woodward. Once again he had helped to turn around an ailing team, had brought freshness to an organisation and instilled professional standards. He loved the work-rugby balance that he had established. Little did he know quite how dramatically that balance was about to change.
PART TWO
REVOLUTION
FOUR
THE ANATOMY OF AN UPHEAVAL
‘The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a man’s determination.’
Tommy Lasorda
JACK ROWELL HAD been the England head coach since 1995 and presided over the bitterly difficult transitional period as rugby union changed from an amateur to a professional sport. He had enjoyed tremendous success as a coach, first during a glorious sixteen-year period at Bath when the club had won eight John Player/Pilkington Cups and five league titles, then with England when he succeeded Geoff Cooke in 1995. During his tenure England won twenty-one of their twenty-nine matches, including two Five Nations Championship titles, a Grand Slam and a famous defeat of Australia in the 1995 World Cup quarter-finals.
Rowell himself was, like Woodward, a very successful businessman and throughout his reign he coached England on a part-time basis. During the amateur years this was fine, but once the game crossed the Rubicon it became increasingly unsatisfactory that a team of full-time professional players were being coached by a part-timer.
It might not have been an issue had England’s results continued to excel – but they had not. At best England were treading water and the RFU were aware that, with professionalism in other countries bound to drive up playing standards and off-field organisation, England had to have an equally impressive (if not more so) professional structure in place. Cliff Brittle, the chairman of the RFU management board, met Rowell to discuss whether he would be interested in taking on the role full-time. Rowell was not. He agreed to continue in his part-time capacity until the RFU selected a replacement – but his tenure had become a stopgap.
The whole process for selecting the new head coach of England was done behind closed doors. The position was not advertised. The Rugby Football Union was made up of a council of fifty-seven unpaid volunteers who ran the game through a management board. Don Rutherford was the director of rugby and he worked closely with the chairman of the management board. When it was announced, in confidence, to the council that there would be a hunt for a new coach it took less than twenty-four hours for the story to leak to the press. It was obvious that there were just too many people involved in the council for the process of selecting a shortlist and appointing a final candidate to remain a secret.
Brittle gathered a small group of trusted advisers – Rutherford, Bill Beaumont and Fran Cotton – and the four of them set about identifying a list of possible successors to Rowell. They would keep their progress strictly confidential.
After the resounding success of the 1997 Lions tour to South Africa (where Fran Cotton had been manager), several of the senior England players voiced their backing for Ian McGeechan to be Rowell’s replacement after the Scotsman had so impressed them
as Lions head coach. But this option was soon shot down in flames; McGeechan was head coach at Northampton at the time and when the RFU approached them with their proposal to buy him out of his contract, Northampton owner Keith Barwell demanded nearly half a million pounds in compensation. Adding this buy-out fee to the £100,000 or so per annum in McGeechan’s salary was all too rich for the RFU.
They considered Richard Hill at Gloucester, but he was too inexperienced. They looked to New Zealand, where Graham Henry was enjoying huge success with the Auckland Blues, winning the first two titles in the newly formed Super 12 competition. Rutherford had previously flown to Auckland to offer Henry a position with the Under-21 and England A squads and with an advisory role to the national team. The idea was that Henry would eventually succeed Rowell as coach. But Henry was, for the time being, happy in his position and wanted to stay in New Zealand.
Thoughts turned inwards to Peter Rossborough, the England A coach who had also been considered as a replacement for Geoff Cooke before Rowell was appointed… and to Woodward. To say that the cupboard was bare is probably unfair but there is no doubt that his name was not top of many pundits’ list. But the more Brittle, Rutherford, Beaumont and Cotton thought about it, the more the idea of Woodward appealed. They needed someone to come in and manage the professional set-up of the England team. In everything he had done he had proved himself to be a blue-sky thinker who was not afraid to fly in the face of tradition or parochial opposition to achieve his goals. Cotton had a vision for Club England, where the national team would operate in as professional an environment as any club in the land, with constant monitoring of its players. Having seen the extraordinary impact that former rugby league players had had on the Lions tour, Cotton was also keen to fast track more into the England set-up. What the job needed was something that Woodward had been bringing to every side he had been involved with since picking up a whistle – a rugby man with a business brain, a professional manager as much as a coach.
