Welsh legend bares his soul to Aidan Smith
Former Welsh No 10 reflects on an enduring love for his home village, a stellar career and the pain of losing his first son
hil Bennett, scorer of one of the absolute solid gold classic Welsh tries against Scotland, apologises in advance. He’s telling me what a rugby legend likes to do in his 70th year and doesn’t reckon it amounts to very much.
“This’ll sound pathetic, Aidan, but me and the wife Pat will take a little drive to the Gower Peninsula and Three Cliffs Bay which Katherine Jenkins says has the best views of anywhere or we’ll pop across to Laugharne where Dylan Thomas did a lot of his great writing and the little pubs compete over where he did the most drinking.”
Notice how he name-checks the famous Welshies, almost as if he thinks the beauty spots require star patronage. The sultan of the sidestep in that sensational Red Dragons XV of the 1970s would never dream of volunteering the information that his own village of Felinfoel has a street named after him – Stryd Phil Bennett.
Indeed, this only slips out at the end of our chat, when he’s telling me how Stradey Park, where he finessed the feints which would soon have a nation sobbing tears of gratitude into its beer, has been concreted over for a new housing estate. “My name on a road sign? I’ll tell you, Aidan, when Pat and I walked past and saw it we were as-ton-ished,” he says in his sing-songy lilt.
Bennett will address me by name many times. Beautiful actresses used to do this when I covered the showbiz beat and, honestly, I didn’t like it and thought they were trying too hard to curry favour. Bennett avoids criticism by virtue of his brilliance with a rugby ball and his hugely endearing sense of place, of home, of the land of his fathers.
Bennett’s father Les never set foot outside Wales his whole life. Rugby took his boy to the far corners of the world and still requests his presence even now. The other day there was a lunch in London for the Magnificent Seven – the septet from the sport’s greatest score, for the Barbarians against the All Blacks in 1973.
“It was a nice day out. The organisers told us they could have sold the tickry. ets ten times over. But I was glad to get home, as I always am.
“There was a Wales tour of Argentina [1968] where we got in late to Heathrow and, typical of the WRU at the time, they didn’t put us up in a hotel at the airport but bussed up straight back to Wales. It was a couple getting off here and a couple there until I was the only one left. The bus didn’t get to Felinfoel until gone 2am but Dad, bless him, was sat on the wall at the front of the house waiting for me. I suppose he thought I might have needed a cup of tea and I remember thinking: ‘Dad, I’ve crossed the Atlantic. I’ve seen the beaut-iful city of Buenos Aires. You’ve been nowhere, old fella.’”
But it is the aftermath of another tour and the tragedy which befell Bennett on his return which tells you most about the man and his feelings for this tiny bump on the Llanellicarmarthen road. In 1974 he was one of the Invincibles, the Lions who went undefeated in South Africa. Bennett was the top Test points scorer and if you were searching for beauty to place alongside the brutality of the campaign’s infamous “99” call then you looked no further than his sensational swerving run – three times in quick succession he planted his left foot and darted to the right to stupefy the Springboks – which set up a try for Andy Irvine.
Pat was pregnant with their first child while her husband was making histo- Baby Stuart was born a few weeks after he got back to Felinfoel only to die the next day. Bennett was a broken man. “When something like that happens it hits you like nothing else and I couldn’t cope,” he says quietly. “But if I was hurting, what about Pat? I’d been four months in South Africa while she was carrying the baby. I should have been by her side, not playing rugby. I wanted to give up the game there and then.
“It was the saddest moment when I held Stuart for what was the last time. The nurses had taken him to this little room to give him some heat. I looked at his face and his black, black hair and he was beautiful. But out of such heartache can come something wonderful. The community was magnificent. My rugby club, Llanelli, were magnificent. I’ll never forget the support and the love everyone showed us. It gave us strength when we were down. I was a steelworker and when I went back to work the boss ordered me back home. ‘But I’ve got to put bread on the table,’ I said. He said: ‘Take a week off, comfort Pat.’ At my club the great Carwyn James asked me: ‘How are you feeling?’ ‘Still raw,’ I said. He said: ‘Right, you’re both having a holiday in Spain, courtesy of Scarlets. Things will get brighter.’
“The gynaecologist told us it had been a one in a million chance that Stuart had suffered the problem with his heart. ‘You’re both young,’ he said. ‘Go and have another child right away.’ We went to Spain and Pat became pregnant. This baby was coming early one morning. I nipped out of the hospital for some fresh air and fell upon this chapel. I’m not a religious man but I knelt down and prayed. ‘Please God,’ I said, ‘I’ll give up everything in my life if you would just make this little one fine, fit and healthy.’”
Steven was later joined by another son, James. Bennett is now a doting grandfather but Stuart still has a place in his life. “You may think this morbid or even stupid but twice a week I visit his grave in the lovely churchyard five minutes from my house. I make sure the stone is always clean and Pat lays fresh flowers. Now, there’s been a small invasion of moles who’ve burrowed under some stones which have toppled over. I’d strongly advise these little buggers to keep out of my way.”
ON HIS SCOTTISH OPPONENTS
“Ian Mcgeechan, beautiful passer of a ball; Sandy Carmichael,
helluva player; Bruce Hay, couldn’t understand a bloody word he said; Gordon Brown, dear friend”