Delightful tales of the unbelievable as Lions roar through the mists of time
COLUMNIST
IN A live Facebook poll this week, the readers of WalesOnline were invited to cast their vote on the outcome of the British and Irish Lions Tour to New Zealand.
A 2-1 series win to the All Blacks was the majority prediction.
Playing Mystic Meg with the oval crystal ball is never a precise science, of course.
Just ask the journalist who wrote that Jamie Roberts was in the squad – a particularly cruel exercise in speculation passed off as fact.
But there are certain things that have happened on past Lions tours that we can confidently predict will never happen again – from Alistair Campbell in a tracksuit to media relations being confined to a postmatch beer with JBG Thomas.
Over the years I have spent a lot of time trawling the archive and interviewing former players who have graced rugby’s most prestigious touring side.
And while there are elements of the Lions experience that will never change – principally the bonds of friendship forged by blended nations – other experiences would be unimaginable to the modern professional.
Here are just a few Lions’ tales that illustrate the difference:
The 1930s – White tie and tails... and grappling with sailors and springboks.
When I dug out the archive of Lions from the 1930s what went on tour resembled a rugby-themed episode of Evelyn Waugh’s Decline and Fall. As the spools of tape revolved, another world of Lions rugby emerged from the recollections of the late Harry Bowcott and Vivian Jenkins.
At the time of his death in 2004, aged 97, Bowcott was the oldest surviving Lion – the only player left to tell the tale of the 1930 tour to New Zealand.
In a 1980 interview, the former Welsh captain recalled a time when the journey alone took longer than the tours of today.
“Packed on the Monday, down to Southampton and away to New Zealand via Panama. It was typically ship’s life.
“Good-quality food, as good as any London hotel. Nice four-course lunch, and if you wanted it a sevenor eight-course dinner.
“Many of us, of course, were not used to having more than perhaps two meals a day. We all turned out in our dinner jackets, some, I’m certain, for the first time.
“It added something to the tour – a sense of importance.”
Welsh rugby also lost Vivian Jenkins in 2004, a legend on the field of play and the printed page. His recorded memories of the 1938 tour to South Africa include tales of riotous socialising. Chief party animal was the fearless Irish lock Blair Mayne, who was later awarded the DSO in World War Two.
“He and old Bill Travers, the Welsh hooker, who was a very tough boy too, would put on seaman’s jerseys, go down the docks, wait until someone would say something rude about them and then demolish them! That was their idea of a night out. Blair Mayne was the heavyweight champion of the Irish universities. Magnificent physique, and a very quiet fellow you thought wouldn’t hurt a fly... until you saw him roused. Mad as a hatter.”
That wasn’t the end of Mayne’s escapades. Drinking at the bar one night in white tie and tails, he got chatting to some South African farmers, as Jenkins recounted: “One said: ‘Why don’t you come out and shoot a few springbok on my farm?’ ‘When?’ ‘Now!’ he said.
“So in his white tie and tails off he went. We were all back at the hotel having breakfast, and suddenly looming up in the doorway in his white tie and tails with a springbok round his neck bleeding blood all down the front of his white waistcoat was Blair.
“He went upstairs looking for Jimmy Unwin, the English wing. He was fast asleep. Blair just lifted the sheet up and shoved the springbok into bed with Jimmy Unwin!”
The 1950s – Jack and Bleddyn paying their way by boat and train
One of the greatest pleasures as a journalist for me was interviewing Doctor Jack Matthews and Bleddyn Williams, whose conversational double act was as seamless as their centre partnership for Wales. Bleddyn was the authoritative straight man, while Jack twinkled with mischief. “Here comes Miss Hitt, getting all our stories before we die!” Jack would chuckle.
And how I cherish those stories now that these lovely gentlemen are indeed no longer with us. Just before 2005’s leviathan squad were heading to New Zealand I settled into the trophy room of Cardiff Arms Park to hear their Lions’ tales of the 1950 tour to the land of the long white cloud.
“Just don’t ask him any questions