EYES ON THE PRIZE
WHY OWEN FARRELL WAS BORN TO LEAD ENGLAND
WHEN Owen Farrell was 10, he was summoned to the headmaster’s off i ce at Sacred Heart Primary School in Wigan. Even then, his teachers observed two unique traits.
First, his supreme ability with a rugby ball. He was streets ahead of his peers. The school playing fields, which overlook a town skyline dominated by the Heinz factory, were just around the corner from Farrell’s grandparents’ house, so he would often sneak out with a ball. Hours of practice meant he could fizz passes off both hands before he was able to tie his own shoelaces.
Secondly, his fizzing temper. He set the standards and struggled to accept that other kids did not have the same drive. The deputy head, Dave Mallin, faced a dilemma: what to do with a kid like Owen?
‘He was only five or six and he’d wander over to watch the older lads’ games and say “Can I take the cone (kicking tee) on, please”?’ said Mallin. ‘He was desperate to play but, even though he was big for his age, he’d only just come out of nursery.
‘By the time he was in year five, he could fire out these long passes to the wingmen and they would drop them because they weren’t used to it. I remember one time when Owen threw this incredible long pass that went straight into touch. Owen went beserk.
‘I collared him afterwards and he said “Well, I work very, very hard. Why don’t such and such work very hard as well? Why aren’t they concentrating?”
‘He couldn’t understand. Here was a 10- year- old kid with the rugby brain of someone much, much older. If things were tight it was “Give it to me”. He’d make the yards and lead by example. He was captain but, in some ways, he
wasn’t a good leader because he got so frustrated when people made mistakes. You didn’t want to tell him to rein it in but, equally, he had to iron out those frustrations.’
Farrell received a fast- track education in rugby league. His parents were only 16 when he was born. His father Andy was a key man for Wigan Warriors and became Great Britain captain. There was always a group of professional rugby players taking Farrell under their wing. It gave him opportunities that most kids could only dream of.
‘I was lucky to grow up at a time when Wigan were very dominant,’ says Farrell. ‘ I’d constantly go along to watch. Whether I knew it or not, I’d have been taking t hi ngs i n. I ’ d have been fetching me dad’s kicks. All that stuff. I just thought that was the norm.’
Farrell grew up in semi-detached house in t he working- c l a s s part of town. Rugby league was religion. All of Farrell’s idols came from the 13-man code — Andrew Johns, Darren Lockyer and his father — but his m o t h e r, C o l l e e n , banned posters in his bedroom because they would damage the paintwork. The heroics of Jonny Wilkinson in the 2003 final were a mere sidenote.
‘I watched it at me nan’s,’ says Farrell. ‘I imagine it was pretty noisy. With me, I was more of a rugby league guy back then.’
Every spare minute was spent with a ball in his hands and, by the age of 12, Farrell was already leading team-talks at St Patrick’s Rugby Club.
‘ Every Sunday morning, we’d pick up Owen up from his parents’ house on the way to our match,’ says his junior coach Gary Owen. ‘He was a normal lad, he’d listen to the radio with a sandwich and a Mars bar, but as soon as he put his boots on he just became a different person. On the pitch, he could do everything. Off the pitch, you’d hear a pin drop when he was doing these team-talks.’
One team-mate, Mike Moffatt, recalls a particular play against Leigh Miners. ‘We were 12 and Owen could read a game three or four tackles ahead of everyone else,’ he said. ‘ Before t he s c r um packed, Owen told me to get ready for a kickchase on the third tackle because my opposite winger was going to shoot up for the intercept. Sure enough, the third tackle came and up shot their winger. Owen put in a little chip over the top and I was in.’
Throughout corners of Wigan, locals were already whispering that Farrell would follow in his father’s footsteps as a future Great Britain captain. He played a year up but he was already bigger and stronger than most opponents. He was also known for his changing hairstyles.
‘He took pride in his hair!’ said team- mate Ryan Owen. ‘ It was pretty long back than — a few different styles — and he’d wear this hairband to keep it out of his eyes. I remember the opposition trying to wind him up one day and, every time they could, they’d pull hi s hai r band o ver hi s face. Eventually Owen lost his cool and it all kicked off. By the time any of us got there he’d laid four of them out. He wasn’t someone to mess with.’
Farrell’s destiny was mapped out. He was heralded as a future rugby league star but life suddenly took an unexpected turn. Andy agreed to move down south to pursue a union career with Saracens and Farrell left the north west kicking and screaming — even offering to move in with his grandfather.
‘Owen’s mother Colleen, who I also taught, asked me to write a school reference,’ said Mallin. ‘He was a very popular pupil and he used to break up any fights in the yard. I wrote that Owen was cooperative, thoughtful, caring, sensible, very hard working, an outstanding sportsman and a potential leader. ‘A lot of Wigan fans were really upset when Andy left. But Andy was towards the end of his career and a few people said to me that the biggest potential loss wasn’t Andy, but Owen.’
Having dragged his feet through the summer holidays in 2005, Farrell enrolled at S t G e o r g e ’s School in Harpenden. His new sports teacher, Steve Robbins, was charged with introducing him to a new world of rugby union in plush Hertfordshire.
‘He turned up on his first day and everyone stared at him thinking “Blimey, you look about two years older than us”,’ said Robins. ‘ He was quite quiet because i t was a d i f f e r e n t environment for him — a church school down south with smart blazers. He looked uncomfortable but it didn’t take him long to undo his top button.’
The Farrells lived opposite another rugby f amily — t he Fords, current England teammate George, his brother Joe and their f a t her Mike, in a Harpenden cul- desac. The homesick youngster was known to travel up north at the weekends to play for St Pats.
‘S**t, Owen’s back playing,’ their opponents would mutter when they spotted him on Sunday mornings. In his own words, Farrell was eventually ‘dragged down’ to Harpenden RFC, where he began to learn the nuances of his new code.
‘I’d stayed the night at a friend’s house and I probably hated it the first couple of days,’ says Farrell. ‘I was reluctant to move down at first, I was a bit different to everyone else. I sounded different. I hadn’t played union before and I
didn’t really know what I was doing.’ Soon enough, Farrell found himself playing a year up. He showed the traits Mallin had identified: a wicked pass and hot-headedness. His team-mates still reminisce about the time he drank beer t hrough t he ‘beer bong’ with his father at the end-ofseason party — and laugh ironically about the ‘ Ice Man’ tag he has picked up in an England shirt. ‘My first memory was this lad casually nailing kicks over from the touchline,’ says his first captain Jimmy Spears. ‘He was a big lump for his age. His dad had been playing flanker so Owen tried a couple of games in the back row but he was just too good at passing for that. ‘He was good fun and he was a leadby-example sort of bloke. Constantly talking and always organising the backline. In his northern accent, he would always be shouting “Wider! Go wider!” He had a really big pass so he’d always be pushing us wider. He used to be able to throw it miles out of the back of his hand. ‘The only thing was that other teams would t arget hi m and get hi m sinbinned. People knew who his dad was and they’d make a few comments about his old man. They’d get him on the floor and he got the odd yellow card for putting the shoulder in.
‘That was how he got them back. He’d murder people. One time there was this little No 12 playing opposite and one of the lads in our team said “Owen, I reckon he could have you”. Owen turned to him and said “Would he b******s!” and cut him in half. He was right up for any challenge.’
By his mid-teens, Farrell was on the books at Saracens, as well as England’s player development pathway.
‘When we were 16, he turned up and he had a brand new, £200 pair of Nike boots,’ said Spears. ‘Jokingly I said “Bloody hell Owen, have you got a contract with Nike now?” and he was just like “Yup”. Around that time, you could probably pick him out as a future England player.’
Elite commitments meant Farrell was unable to play for Harpenden in certain matches. Yet he never became too big for his boots and, begrudgingly, would turn up to watch from the sidelines. Nothing would douse his competitive instincts, as former coach Robin Longdon can profess. ‘We had a semi-final game in Marlow and Owen wasn’t allowed to play,’ said the coach. ‘Andy and his mum appealed but the answer was
“No”. He didn’t sulk, though. He was never one of these kids who would take the p**s because his dad was rich or famous. For this game, Owen was on the sidelines in his tracksuit.
‘ He came across the other side’s kicking tee and stuffed it down his trousers for the whole game. He showed me it at one stage of the match with a wry smile. He knew exactly what he was doing. That was his way of making a contribution. That was his determination to win.’
Farrell has studied leadership at university, captained Saracens and is now preparing to lead his country at the World Cup. Just like the young lad from Sacred Heart, he still fires out passes and throws his arms in the air if no one catches them. Just like the young lad from Sacred Heart, he remains the heart and soul of the team. He regularly received pep talks from Wilkinson and, by November, he might join the No 10 in immortality.
‘Sometimes the simple things are the hardest things to do,’ he says. ‘Leadership is about doing your job and doing what you can to bring the best out of yourself and others.
‘Everyone who has a big influence on a game is a leader, Cameron Smith played his 400th game for Melbourne recently. He’s 36 and he’s still one of the best players in the NRL. Michael Jordan, Tom Brady. Jonny’s one of the best so that leaves a legacy. Who wouldn’t want to follow that?’