With little relevant technology in 1991, management teams were much less sophisticated when it came to finding the edge. Following the group stages of the World Cup, our team manager Geoff Cooke decided we needed a bit of rest and recreation prior to our quarter-final in Paris against France. He arranged for a two-day trip to Jersey which included players’ wives and girlfriends (I can’t remember any player inviting both). R & R, that was all we needed to gain the edge. On the first night all the playing members of the squad and their partners were having a meal in the hotel and Brian Moore, our hooker, resident commercial lawyer and viticulture connoisseur, was placed in charge of ordering the wine. With his extensive knowledge – he could tell white from red, providing he had his eyes open – he did what any one of us would have done in the same situation. He studied the right-hand side of the list and ordered numerous bottles of the most expensive white, red and rosé wines available. He succeeded in running up a bill of over £5,000, ensuring the R & R session developed into a superb team bonding exercise. I even have a vague recollection of one of the forwards telling one of the backs that he loved him. Talking of forwards, the aforementioned super-fit Peter Winterbottom was even seen dancing ‘cowboy style’ on a makeshift dance floor. To understand the enormity of this you need to know that Winters was a man of very few words and (until that moment) even fewer dance moves.
A couple of days later we went for a team run before departing for the airport. I was ambling along doing a good captain’s job, forcing myself to stay at the back to be able to encourage some of the slower forwards, when on my right-hand side I heard the voice of Winters saying, ‘Sorry, mate.’ I looked in his direction and asked what he was apologising for. ‘The other night. Sorry, mate, I let myself down, sorry, it won’t happen again.’ With that he ran off and took up his customary position at the front of the group. Those few words were more than he said to me throughout the rest of the campaign and probably to anyone else as well, but it made me realise how important the break had been in recharging the batteries and getting away from rugby just for a short while. It might not have been sophisticated but it gave us an edge.
We went on to win the quarter-final and semi-final and I feel certain if we’d had another Jersey visit before the final we might well have won that as well. Never underestimate the importance of a bit of R & R and a man who knows his way around a wine list.
Four years later and the World Cup had moved to South Africa. The tournament was bigger, as were the squads and management teams. On numerous occasions we’d be out on the park training and I’d look at the touchline thinking to myself, who on earth are all these people in England tracksuits? We had dieticians, physiotherapists, doctors, forwards coaches, backs coaches, liaison officers, press officers; we even had an entertainments officer. I’m sure they all had important roles to play, and as it happens none more so than Dr Austin Swain, the team psychologist.
Once again we’d progressed through the group stages and were preparing for a quarter-final against Australia. What could we do to gain an advantage over our opposition? We knew where the Aussies were staying and where they trained. We also knew, having spent a few weeks together before and during the World Cup, that Dr Austin Swain could do a more than passable Australian accent. In addition, he had been underused in his official capacity as several members of the squad did not understand the benefits sports psychology could bring to them as individuals and the team in general. No matter how often I tried to explain, a few of the boys kept telling me that they had no need to get the Ouija board out to contact the other side. ‘Listen lads, he’s not a psychic, he’s a . . . oh, never mind.’ So we decided to send him to an Australian training session disguised as an Aussie backpacker to see what information he could glean. For the record, despite the sceptics, Dr Austin Swain made a valuable contribution to our mental preparation.
Several hours later he returned having bluffed his way into their session, saying something about ‘a sporting thesis incorporating the mental and physical preparation required at elite level’ (like he was ever going to find out anything on that topic from the Aussies!). Not only had they given him a few isotonic drinks during training, they had also sent him on his way with a couple of six-packs of beer. What they didn’t know was he also left with full details and diagrams on all their attacking moves and defensive strategies which allowed us the best part of a week to come up with counter-measures. Although it was a close match we finished victorious after a period of extra-time (we had ‘the edge’).
Our prize for winning that match came seven days later, when the whistle blew to start our semi-final match against New Zealand and we were introduced to a lad called Jonah Lomu. Need I say more?
Maybe justice was not just seen to be done, it was done.
The Tipping Pint
Philip Matthews
Philip was an uncompromising Irish back-row forward who played thirty-eight times for his country, thirteen as captain. Interestingly, he is one of a small group of players who have played for the British and Irish Lions in a “home” fixture, when they played France as part of the bicentennial celebrations of the French Revolution in 1989. He also has the distinction of appearing on two postage stamps, one issued by Tadjikistan after the 1991 Rugby World Cup, where he is depicted tackling Australian fly-half Michael Lynagh, and the other by the Republic of Turkmenistan, on which he is facing the Australian team in the same tournament. Fame indeed. Currently Philip is the eighth President of the National College of Ireland, a position he took up in February 2010, and I am assuming there won’t be a third stamp in the offing, featuring him at his desk. But you never know, I guess.
‘Phil had the reputation of giving 100 per cent on the field of play and 100 per cent off it. If there was a tackle to be made you could rely on him to make it, conversely if there was a beer to be drunk it more often than not had his name on it. Many people will recognise Phil today as the touchline analyst during international matches featuring Ireland at Lansdowne Road. Here he gives us a fascinating insight into how different the teams’ approach in the second World Cup was compared with the first.
I was fortunate to play in two World Cup competitions, the inaugural event in 1987 and again in 1991, and my overriding memory is how markedly different from each other they were. I’m not talking about the obvious: the first being in the southern hemisphere and the second in the northern hemisphere. To me the most marked difference was the approach of the teams and the attitude of the players.
In 1987 one team stood apart from all the rest, the All Blacks. They had been a professional outfit for many years (professional in their approach is of course what I mean) and were generally regarded as the best team in the world at the time, something they were to prove on 20 June 1987 when they swept France aside 29–9 in the final in Auckland. The other nations were either several steps behind or there simply to make up the numbers; New Zealand were always going to win that first World Cup.
The Home Nations didn’t really view it as a competition, more like a tour, the only difference being the more successful you were the longer you got to have fun. I should explain, these were the great amateur days of rugby union and in addition to the Five Nations Championship, most teams enjoyed an international tour every couple of years. If you were really lucky, your union would choose a destination like the USA, Fiji, Japan or Tonga where the standard of rugby at the time was limited but the hospitality fantastic. Less fortunate were those who toured Australia or New Zealand, and when I say less fortunate I mean on the rugby front because you knew even at provincial level you were not going to get an easy ride on the field. Still, wherever you went the hospitality remained excellent and there was always plenty of time away from the practice field when the boys could ‘relax’.
This tour mentality was firmly in place when we arrived in Wellington for the opening pool game against Wales. You may be interested to know we also shared the same hotel as Wales leading up to this fixture. In the modern era, hotels
are researched and booked often years in advance, to ensure everything is ‘just right’. It is inconceivable two teams would share the same hotel, and certainly not two teams who were playing against each other. Actually for the Irish lads this was quite normal, as for many years all visiting teams to Dublin used to stay in the Shelbourne Hotel with the Irish team, to help negate any possible threat from the IRA.
We had a few (very few) days to get over jetlag, and trained for a couple of hours on each of these days. To be honest even without jetlag we only used to train for a couple of hours a day, leaving twenty-two other ones in which to get up to mischief. We were not very creative when it came to organising our downtime, in fact a trip to the nearest watering hole tended to be the height of our ambitions. Unsurprisingly Wales followed a very similar routine and we often found ourselves sharing the same bar as well as the same hotel. Obviously many of the players from the respective teams knew each other, but for others it was a chance to get to know some of the opposition as well as forging stronger links with their own team-mates. It was all an essential element of our meticulous preparations, we told ourselves, as we ordered yet another round.
I remember spending one evening having a ‘couple’ of drinks with a few of the Welsh lads, including the winger Glen Webbe. Glen was twenty-five years of age and having made his debut for Wales the year before was on his first overseas trip representing his country. He was definitely making the most of it, often leaving the bar at closing time to visit nightclubs in search of some ‘action’. If the truth be told he was often seen on these occasions dancing with himself, but always with a smile on his face. He was definitely a lively lad who no doubt helped to raise the spirits of the Welsh side when required. This particular evening he was exceptionally good company and summed up his approach, and probably that of most of the teams, as he said, ‘When I die I don’t want to go to heaven; I want to go on tour.’ Hallelujah, brother! To a man we all agreed with that sentiment.
So with most teams lacking either ability or application, the All Blacks showed the world how far advanced they were in all aspects of the game. At the time I remember thinking they would win every World Cup for generations to come, but as we all know that has not been the case, although I think this may change this year when the tournament returns to New Zealand.
The manner of the All Black victory was a much-needed kick up the arse to the sport in general. Even those who wished it wasn’t so recognised that rugby had to change, and in the interim period between World Cups all the serious nations made radical improvements in their approach to the game. Rather than treat everyone the same, coaches were utilised to prepare units within the team, so the ‘flying wingers’ no longer did the same physical training as the prop forwards. This was of massive benefit to both sets of players. Everything became more specialised; nutritionists were brought in to give players advice on diet, and it wasn’t just whether salt ’n’ vinegar or cheese ’n’ onion went better with a pint of the black stuff (to be fair not everyone accepted the advice, but at least they had the information). Some nations even employed the services of sports psychologists to train the top three inches (the brain). That proved trickier than anticipated for some of my team-mates, and on occasion the experts had to settle for the top inch. It was all they could find.
I suppose the reality is everything continues to move on and although we felt we were at the cutting edge then, what we were doing in the late eighties and early nineties would be laughed at today.
Humorous stories from the world of rugby have historically often involved alcohol to a greater or lesser extent. I have no recollection of ‘big nights out’ in the 1991 World Cup, whilst 1987 was full of them. The pints had been spilled for good. We were no longer on tour, we were in competition.
The lead-up to 1991 was especially poor for Ireland. We didn’t win a match in the Five Nations Championship that year, although we did manage a draw against Wales. We were also beaten by the rugby minnows Namibia and by the club side Gloucester in our World Cup warm-up matches. However, when the tournament actually arrived we were so much better prepared than four years earlier.
We played against Scotland in one of our pool games and I remember Finlay Calder, the Scottish back-row forward, ‘taking out’ our full-back Jim Staples with a thundering tackle, which in truth was only slightly late. Jim definitely had a touch of concussion and Gary Armstrong, the Scottish scrum-half, could see Jim was not quite all there. From the next scrum Armstrong hoisted a huge high ball which Jim failed to gather and Scotland scored from the resulting fumble. At the time I remember thinking how sharp it was from Scotland’s perspective. They had seen a weakness and immediately exploited it. They too had learnt lessons from 1987 when witnessing first-hand the clinical approach of New Zealand in that tournament.
For the Irish our big day was the quarter-final against Australia at Lansdowne Road. The match will remain with me for ever and lives as a reminder of the validity of the saying, ‘It’s not over until the fat lady sings.’ With five minutes left on the clock we were losing 15–12, when the ball popped into the hands of our open-side flanker Gordon Hamilton, who stormed past Australian winger David Campese, leaving him completely for dead as he sprinted forty yards to score (at least that’s how Gordon remembers it). He was mobbed by his team-mates, including myself and a host of spectators. We thought we had qualified for the semi-finals, especially when the reliable Ralph Keyes slotted home the conversion for an additional two points, taking us into a three-point lead. With seconds remaining we conceded a penalty and the Australian genius at outside half Michael Lynagh looked as though he was going to take a kick at goal which if successful would have drawn the game.
Instead of the kick he took a quick tap penalty which stunned the Irish defence who started to rush around trying to close all the gaps. Australian backs Tim Horan and Jason Little both made valuable ground before passing the ball to Campese, who was tackled literally inches from the Irish try line. As he hit the ground he popped the ball up to Lynagh who bounced over the line to score. Within a minute the Irish supporters and players had gone from absolute elation to heartbreak as we lost 19–18 and were out of the tournament. Australia went on to win the World Cup a couple of weeks later when they defeated England in the final – we were so close. We had made significant strides forward, that was true, but they were clearly not quite long enough.
The beginning of the end of rugby as it should be played, or a long overdue catalyst for change, however you want to see it, the 1987 Rugby World Cup was a game-changer. The tipping point, if you like. The preparation of teams and the sharpness of players have been on a continuous upward curve since that tournament, whereas for generations prior to 1987 little happened to threaten the status quo. I know from personal experience we were much more organised and professional in our approach to 1991 and it’s clear to see the standard of world rugby has continued to improve since then. Has this benefited the sport I love? Well, I’ll leave you with the thought that since 1987, to play in a Rugby World Cup is the ambition of almost every serious player, and to watch one is a joy for supporters around the globe.
Zut Alors!
Alan Whetton
One of the big names in All Black history, Alan gained thirty-five caps and scored forty points in his Test career. He is the twin brother of Gary Whetton, who also played for New Zealand in fifty-eight Tests.
‘In his early career he played No. 8 and second row, before establishing himself as blind-side flanker. It was in this position he became part of the formidable back-row trio which included Michael Jones and Wayne (“Buck”) Shelford, who together played an integral part in the All Blacks’ success in the 1987 tournament. He remained an influential member of the team until their semi-final defeat to arch-rivals Australia four years later. Following his retirement from the international scene he became player-coach at Kobe Steel in Japan from 1996 to 1999, before returning to New Zealand where he was a commentator for New Zealand’s TV3 network during
their coverage of the 2007 RWC. He was also part of the Solid Gold (radio) breakfast team for several years. Alan is an eloquent man who displays in the story below the ability to talk his way out of a potentially sticky situation during his playing days.
It has long been said every male born in New Zealand wants to be an All Black, and having lived there for the majority of my life I can tell you it’s not far from the truth. This makes playing for the national team even more special when you finally get selected, knowing it’s the dream of at least half the nation. There are, however, one or two misconceptions about the New Zealand All Blacks, one of which is we never celebrate victory (apart from a World Cup final win and, as everyone involved in rugby outside New Zealand constantly reminds me, that’s not happened for a long time).
We are no different in this respect from all the other rugby-playing nations around the world: we go out and have a few beers, occasionally too many beers, and then get back to training and preparation for the next match. Incidentally, it’s worth mentioning that the philosophy of All Black rugby since inception has been to win the next match and for the best part of one hundred years this served us well, up to and including the inaugural World Cup in 1987. Following our victory then it was felt we needed to change, as it was clear the sport’s landscape had altered for ever. Winning the Webb Ellis Cup was now the dominant factor in the eyes of everyone involved in world rugby and so although we still went out to win every game, we were also planning up to four years ahead. This meant at certain times we were not picking the best team. The reason being, coaches and selectors would look at a player who was perhaps turning thirty years of age two or three years prior to a World Cup and make the decision that he would not be around for the tournament. A new younger player, possibly not as good as the incumbent at that moment, would then be drafted into the side. This happened many times and numerous players had their international careers cut prematurely short. I believe now we have gone back to our roots by once again always targeting the next game – we shall see in 2011 if it has paid off!
More Blood, Sweat and Beers Page 9
