I was only non-cap in Cov’s back line MY
I’LL never forget the only time I ‘played’ prop – it was in a bar in the Bahamas. Solihull were a rich club, full of multi-millionaires, and they used to go on extravagant tours and they’d always invite some Coventry players along to make sure they could hold their own.
On this occasion I was accompanied by Brainy (former England hooker Steve Brain) and one night while we were out enjoying the social scene, we came across a Canadian rugby player who was shouting his mouth off about how good he was.
Brainy challenged him to a little pack down and told me to play prop and bind onto him but to keep my head well away. There was an almighty crack and the next thing I knew the mouthy Canadian was reeling back and screaming in pain with his forehead split open. Brainy said, ‘That’ll shut you up’.
Beziers is another trip that stands out. They had a phenomenal team but they were so rough – kicking, punching, gouging, biting, it was frightening really so I remember that for all the wrong reasons.
I also played for Rosslyn Park for a short spell after I moved down to London to work for Shell, fresh from leaving Rugby School. H (Cov legend, Harry Walker) kept ringing me up and saying, ‘when are you coming back to Cov?’ His persuasive powers worked and I joined the club about six weeks before the second RFU Club Cup final against London Scottish in 1974. It was too soon for me to make it into the starting XV, especially with the quality of players in the squad, and I sat on the bench.
The first house I bought in the Midlands was in Castle Hill in Kenilworth, and it turned out that my next door neighbour was none other than David Duckham. There’s a park in the middle of Kenilworth called Abbey Fields, which is basically a bowl, and we’d run up and down the sides of it to get fit. As a young 20-year-old, it was amazing to be training with a guy who’d played in that wonderful Barbarians v All Blacks game the year before. We’re still good friends to this day.
David was one of many stars in the Cov team at the time. I’m co-author of a book on former Coventry Players, Majestic Cov, which is due out later this year, and in it there’s a photo of 11 England players – there would have been 12 had Rod Webb not been on holiday when it was taken – and a Welsh international, Ron Jones. I played England Schools and England U23s but never went on to be capped. I suppose one shouldn’t have any regrets in life but I had other distractions outside rugby – I was very sociable, let’s put it like that –and I probably didn’t give it my best shot. As the only noninternational in the backline, I’d find myself stood on one wing pinching myself that I was in such company.
“Had I played in the golden era, who knows I might have got 210 tries for Cov, not 110”
David was coming towards the end of his career by then, as were quite a few players, and I joined the club just when it was about to enter a bit of a lull. And then, when I retired, mainly because of work, things started to pick up for Cov again.
Had I played in the golden era of the 1960s and early 70s, who knows I might have got 210 tries for Cov, not 110, which, I am reliably told, puts me tenth on the all-time try-scorers’ list. When I caught up with my old England Schools’ captain, Alistair Hignell, a few years ago, I asked him if he remembered me as a player and he said, ‘yes, you were a winger with a nose for the try line’.
The first five of those 110 Cov tries came in one match – on my debut against Guy’s Hospital. Before the kick-off, George Cole, who holds the club record for most points and was an amazing goal kicker, and the two centres, Chris Wardlow and Paul Coulthard, came over to me and said, ‘don’t worry, we’ll look after you’.
In truth, I think any fool could have scored the tries; they were put on a plate for me. I distinctly remember my 100th try, too, it was against Nottingham. Steve Holdstock was my opposite number and we’re still in touch. It wasn’t a classy side-stepping, swerving try you might imagine. Someone put a grubber kick through and the ball sort of bobbled up into my arms and I fell over the line.
The bounce of the ball was less kind when we played Cardiff at their place and lost by 70 points. I was up against a forerunner to Jonah Lomu, a barrelchested bloke called PL Jones. He had absolutely no subtlety to his game and would just run straight at you. Quite often, it worked. We’d play against all the big Welsh sides in those days and a Friday night trip over the border wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. I won’t name names but some of the internationals picked and chose their games and you could almost forecast when they’d cry off for some reason or another. In a way you couldn’t blame them because they had everything to lose and nothing to gain.
After starting up my own business in plant and tool hire, it became apparent the stakes had got too big for me, too. In one game down at Gloucester one of their players ran from 50 yards away and smacked me from behind. I had to have 17 stitches put in my eye. I thought, ‘I’m not getting paid for this and if I’m not going to be able to work, the business will suffer’. That’s what led to me retiring, really.
My playing days may be behind me and thank heavens for that because the pressure in the game nowadays is so much greater – but rugby is a like a thread that follows you through life. You play with people who become lifelong friends and you can go into any rugby clubhouse around the world and share a beer and have a chat. Today it is much more about winning and losing. When I played, if you lost a game, you’d be downhearted for a couple of hours but a few pints would soon sort you out.