That battle with Sam Burgess... and the bizarre texts he sent me three years later
WALES rugby legend Jamie Roberts is bringing out his autobiography, Centre Stage. Here in day three of our exclusive serialisation of the book, he tells the story of one of Welsh rugby’s finest days – the 28-25 World Cup triumph over England at Twickenham in 2015.
It was an encounter that had an unexpected start and finish involving Sam Burgess, the rugby league legend fast-tracked into the England squad by Stuart Lancaster.
He played flanker for Bath, but England chose Burgess at inside centre.
It was a selection error Wales were ready to pounce upon.
THE BUILD-UP Jamie’s tale
It was a huge call to pick a union novice in a position that required such technical expertise, and it seemed to me a reckless and unnecessary gamble. The press had latched on to the rumours and a Burgess v Roberts storyline began to take shape.
The clash of the titans. The irresistible force meets the immovable object.
Two, hulking, bristling slabs of muscle going head to head in a midfield duel of heavyweight proportions. It was a headline writer’s dream, and my phone was soon clogged up with messages from mates who were forwarding articles about the imminent battle.
Rarely did I give anything away size-wise to my opposite number, but this guy was big. We were of a similar height, but he was probably packing a few more pounds. I was big and lean; he was more dense and muscular.
Burgess was named to start. Not long after lunch, as I was returning to my room, Rob Howley and I crossed paths in the hotel corridor. He was grinning from ear to ear.
‘Seen the team, then?’ I asked. ‘Happy days,’ he said, and continued on his way. I felt the same. As decorated as Burgess was as a rugby league player, I knew we could expose him.
I was amazed that Lancaster was willing to put so much blind belief in one man. It was also a tacit acknowledgement of our strength and power: an indication that they were thinking as much about us as they were about themselves.
It had echoes of the Joe Worsley game in 2009. They were worried about me marauding down that channel and had deliberately picked a big lump to block my path.
FIRED-UP WARBURTON’S FURY AND THE BUST-UP WITH BROWN
Wales were not going to take a backward step that night against England in their own backyard and the dressing room mantra and example was set by the captain. Jamie’s tale Sam Warburton was teetering right on the edge before the game, prowling round the dressing room in a state of barely controlled fury. It was hot and stuffy in there and he’d convinced himself the RFU had deliberately cranked up the heat to try to unsettle us.
By the time we emerged onto the pitch, he was ready to explode.
The game erupted spectacularly around the 20-minute mark when Dan Lydiate chopped Tom Wood down with one of his trademark low tackles. Within seconds all 30 players had swarmed in as the referee struggled to maintain order.
Voices were raised, jerseys pulled and threats issued, and I found myself having to separate an enraged-looking Warby from Mike Brown, who was unwisely spoiling for a fight.
Each of them are intensely competitive animals, and I was about to become Browny’s team-mate at Quins, but there was only one winner there. While no shots connected and order was soon restored, it was a good psychological marker to have laid down.
It showed that we weren’t going to stand on ceremony for anyone. It may have been Twickenham, and it may have been their party, but we were the unwanted house guests who’d come to trash the joint.
EXPLOITING BURGESS’ WEAK LINKS
Just before half-time, Wales put Burgess’ inexperience to the test, Roberts running a decoy line that allowed Dan Biggar to put Scott Williams through a gaping hole. The Lancaster experiment didn’t last as Burgess found himself replaced in the second period by George Ford, with Owen Farrell moving to 12. Jamie’s tale As we jogged into the changing rooms, Bigs (Dan Biggar) and I exchanged a knowing look.
We had Burgess’s number. He didn’t have a clue. Scotty would have loved that too, after Burgess had insulted him during the week, saying, when asked about Scott in a press conference, ‘Who’s that?’
Earlier in the half, Scott had piled into Burgess, smashing him to the deck and dislodging the ball. As they’d returned to their feet, Scotty had looked him in the eye and said, ‘You know who I am now.’
TEARS IN THEIR EYES
Wales went on to win the game, courtesy of Lloyd Williams’ neverto-be-forgotten kick through for Gareth Davies’ try – cue delirium Jamie’s tale In the chaos and euphoria that followed, Gethin Jenkins asked Lloyd if he could have his left boot. Not realising the significance, Lloyd panicked and agreed. Melon isn’t much of a sentimental bloke and, unsurprisingly, the ‘boot that sank England’ appeared later as a pretty lucrative auction lot during his testimonial year.
Cold hard cash is never far from Melon’s mind
As we were heading to the team
bus, weaving our way through the thousands of fans streaming out of the stadium, I bumped into a bunch of my best mates from school.
They came bounding over with tears in their eyes, and we started spontaneously jumping up and down like the overgrown schoolboys that we were.
It was then that I noticed how many other people were crying.
Dozens of Wales supporters wandering in a dreamlike state shedding actual tears. Grizzled, craggy-faced old men with damp eyes and quivering lips. That was when I realised the significance of what we’d done.
THE AFTERMATH – AN UNEXPECTED PHONE CALL AND MESSAGES Jamie’s tale
Three years later, my phone buzzed with an Australian number. Not recognising it, I didn’t answer, letting it go straight to voicemail.
There followed a long, rambling sequence of text messages from someone referring to themselves as ‘the greatest’ and imploring me to pick up.
It took me a while to figure out it was Sam Burgess.
He may have been under the influence, going on to describe himself as ‘the guy who shut me down’ before England had apparently ‘bottled it’ and replaced him with George Ford.
When the English press combed through the wreckage of their failed campaign, they’d been desperate to find a scapegoat, and Burgess – the outsider from rugby league – had proved a convenient one.
The public opprobrium had clearly left its mark, and all those years later it obviously still hurt.