The art of the motivational video – and when we got it laughably wrong
When I first got into the England team, the coaching staff had a strange fascination with motivational videos. And they did not always make a lot of sense. On the 2008 tour of New Zealand, the media team put together a highlights reel for us to watch. They put a Euro pop remix of the Gladiator theme over the top, which was nice. Unfortunately, it did not mask the fact that the best player in the video was
Jamie Noon, who had not been picked for the first Test. Other players in the video had not even made the touring party, so I walked out of the room thinking, “Do they want us to think they brought the wrong players?” Maybe they did, because the All Blacks hammered us in both games.
I thought it could not get any worse than that, but when we played the All Blacks again at Twickenham a few months later the coaching team went full self-sabotage. Two days before the game, the squad were ushered into a room and one of the coaches said, “We’ve got something for you.” He dimmed the lights, pressed play on his laptop and we were treated to a highlights reel of the two Tests we had only recently lost in New Zealand, mashed up with audio from the Gerard Butler swords and sandals film 300. This video mainly consisted of Ma’a Nonu repeatedly carving us up and making us look stupid, and cut away to Gerard Butler screaming, “Hold, hold!” As soon as the coaches left the room, the boys all dissolved into hysterics. We were literally howling with laughter, with tears running down our cheeks. If I remember rightly, Joe Worsley was laughing so much he fell off his chair.
I have no idea what the coaches were hoping to achieve, but the main lesson I took from that video was that Nonu was absolutely incredible. Afterwards, we gave the video editor some serious stick. While he was trying to eat his dinner, players kept shouting at him, “What the f--- were you thinking? Now I’m s------- myself!” Not only was it bad for player morale, but it caused tension between us and the coaching staff, because they all heard us howling with laughter and spent the rest of the day giving us the evils. Remarkably, they kept plugging away with these videos.
The day before the game at Twickenham, as we were getting
As soon as the coaches left the room, the boys were in hysterics – Joe Worsley fell off his chair
ready for the team run, Martin Johnson, who had just taken over as head coach, said, “Right, this is massive. You don’t really have to think about it, you know how intense it’s going to be, but we do have something for you...” Johnno
pressed play on the DVD and it was that scene from Goodfellas, where Ray Liotta pistol-whips some bloke to within an inch of his life, because he has been hassling his wife. There was no audio at all this time, it was just Ray pulling up in his car, strolling over to the bloke and repeatedly whacking him on the head with his gun. The screen went black, before the words “England versus New Zealand – Bring the Violence” appeared.
Then Johnno said, “Right, everyone out for the warm-up.” I could sense that the video had not gone as planned as the computer guy was getting a b--------- as we all trundled out into the Friday sunshine.
On the way out, I had a word with Graham Rowntree.
“Graham, I’m confused. Do I have to bring a gun to the game tomorrow?” Cue all the lads laughing, or stifling laughs, to be more accurate.
“Shut the f--- up, Haskell,” he snapped back.
“But seriously, do I? Because I don’t have one at the moment and I’m not sure where to get one from before tomorrow’s game. Oi, Borthers, have you got your gun ready?” “You’re an idiot, Hask. Get on with your warm-up and keep shtum,” Graham replied, while Steve Borthwick ran off so no one could see his smile as he was meant to be captain and knew the video was a s--- choice.
It transpired that the video guy had f----- up again and forgotten to put the sound on. I am not sure it would have made any difference. After the team run was over, I shouted, “Right, lads, don’t forget to pack your shooters tomorrow. Apparently that’s the only way we’re going to stop Ma’a Nonu.” You won’t believe it, but after all the p---taking and jokes they played the same video once again in our final team meeting before we left Pennyhill to play the game, this time with sound. It made no sense with sound either, and we got pumped at Twickenham. I brought the violence and got yellow-carded, so all in all it was a terrible day in the office.
Not only were these motivational videos an amateurish joke, but they made me think the coaches did not understand us. Why did they think a violent scene from Goodfellas was going to motivate us to play better? Did they seriously all sit around and say, “If anything’s going to get them up for the game, it’s that clip of Ray Liotta bashing someone’s brains in?”
We had not beaten New Zealand for five years, and most of the players involved in England’s most recent victory over them had retired, so they had no business making a highlights video. Unlike most of my team-mates, I was not able to shut up about it. I just could not resist. For the record, the All Blacks stuffed us 32-6, while Nonu ran in a brilliant try from the halfway line and was named man of the match.