An eloquent silence followed that other miracle try of 1973
It’s the try that almost nobody talks about these days, even though there are some who rate it above the immortal Gareth Edwards score that much earlier had launched the 1973 Barbarians match against New Zealand into the stratosphere.
JPR Williams’ match clincher with six minutes left was nonetheless a thing of wonder scored into the teeth of savage New Zealand resistance. The All Blacks had fought back wonderfully well from 17-0 – and it could have been many more – to score two tries of their own through Grant Batty and suddenly it was deadly serious with all the old rivalries re-emerging from the Lions series just 18 months earlier.
To the excitement and energy of a carnival occasion was now added tension and angst. It was not enough that the Barbarians had let rip so magnificently and shown British rugby at its best, they really did need to finish the job and win.
It all started with John Pullin throwing to Fergus Slattery – it looked like he was aiming for Derek Quinnell but it went longer than intended – at the tail of a lineout just outside the New Zealand 25. In the following one minute and 26 seconds every member of the Barbarians XV touched the ball at least once. No doubt somebody will correct me but I am not aware of any try in a ‘big-time’ match that can claim this and has the TV footage to back it up.
The eventual try-scorer Williams enjoyed three touches as did the ubiquitous Slattery, who at the very height of his career was as close to perpetual motion as you will ever see on a rugby pitch.
David Duckham, Mike Gibson, Willie John McBride, Tom David and Gareth Edwards were all involved twice and for those of you who like to see these things in black and white the handling sequence was as follows: Pullin (lineout throw), Slattery, McBride, McLauchlan, Edwards, Bevan, JPR (fielding Bob Burgess’s knock on and kick), Wilkinson, Edwards, Bennett, Dawes, Duckham, Carmichael, David, Pullin, Slattery, Gibson, McBride, David, Duckham (fielding Lyn Colling’s clearance kick), Dawes, JPR, Gibson, Slattery, JPR.
That’s a lot rugby but let’s just select a few edited highlights. Edwards’ first touch was a remarkable one. Finding himself running at pace towards the touchline and essentially down a blind alley, he conjured up an extraordinary reverse spin pass on the hoof in the other direction to John Bevan some 20 yards away.
Then there was the second of Duckham’s runs when he produced his unique swerve and sidestep combination off his left foot to shred Kent Lambert and Ian Kirkpatrick, followed soon after by Gibson’s show-and-go swivel and turn that left Burgess clutching at air.
Williams’ finish was deadly and ultra ‘professional’ and without flourish as he looked to ensure no last-second mess up while he was also anticipating and bracing himself for the inevitable desperate head high challenge from Batty, who had previous in that department. In fact, the Cardiff crowd had been on Batty’s case all afternoon after a couple of questionable challenges earlier in the game.
“It was a very satisfying try because it clinched the game and the entire team were involved,” recalls JPR. “There was a sort of manic energy and determination not to let the ball die. Because it was the last try of the game, and the winner, we were buzzing about it straight afterwards and the funny thing is it wasn’t until we saw the replays of Gareth’s try that we realised just how great a score that was.
“Of course, we knew the opening try had been exceptional but for those of us out there – without the panoramic view the crowd enjoyed – it all happened in a flash, it was a bit of a blur and confusing. And, of course, we had no time to dwell on it, process it in our minds. There was another 76 minutes of rugby to play against the All Blacks.
“Gareth’s try had great theatre and finale about it and, yes, it was the pinnacle, but I always try and make sure our final try gets a good mention in despatches, a try in which we all, literally, had a hand in.
It’s that team element that JPR mentions that always elevates the try to top table for many, alongside the Edwards piece de resistance. It required a high degree of rugby excellence for a much longer period and from more players.
There was also, whisper it quietly, no rather glaring forward pass to fret about – as was the case with Derek Quinnell’s final one handed flick to Edwards which always leaves you squirming a little when confronted by Kiwis with long memories.
Above all, for me anyway, it contained two glorious swooping runs from Duckham which were things of beauty and which when I close my eyes, are always the first images that present themselves from an extraordinary afternoon.
Objectively, though, through gritted teeth, I will concede that the Barbarians match winner probably lacked three components which have denied it the legendary status it deserves.
First, it was scored late in the game when the running copy of all the Sunday journalists was 90 per cent written and impatient sports editors were waiting for a top and tail to their reports.
The wordsmiths had described the Edward’s miracle score at their leisure, polishing their fine words, and there simply wasn’t time or space to quite do the winner justice. The pictures of the Edwards score were already on the page which was waiting to be sent. And there is also a sort of unwritten rule which says you can only have one ‘miracle’ try per match, one lead story. And that was Edwards.
Second, the two breaks in continuity when the All Blacks either knocked on trying to intercept or the ball rebounded off an All Black does detract from its perfection, it doesn’t feel quite as complete as the Edwards score although there are some that argue the counter-attack Duckham launched from Colling’s missed touch kick adds another vital component to the magic.
Just when you thought the ball was going out and there would be a chance to catch your breath and applaud the passage of play, the England man breathed life back into the move and we were off again. Everything after that seemed like a bonus.
And finally, having produced possibly the finest, most emotive, passage of live sports commentary in history – certainly rugby history – earlier in the game Cliff Morgan, understandably, couldn’t quite go to the well again.
His description of the try was perfectly adequate with some nice little lines – ‘Gibson, that’s his genius’ – but the Great Man had already fired his best shots. He was exhausted and perhaps even sated by the pyrotechnics he had been describing all afternoon.
Immediately after that opening Edwards score Morgan was still in full torrent: “This is Gareth Edwards. A dramatic start. What a score. Oh that fellow Edwards. Who can stop a man like that? If the greatest writer of the written word would have written that story no one would have believed it.”
Following the JPR touchdown there is silence for a full 18 seconds. Nothing. Even Cliff Morgan could find no more words. Never has silence been more eloquent.
“I always try and make sure our final try gets a good mention - a try in which we all had a hand” - JPR Williams