A 100th Wales cap at the journey Faletau has had
did his talking on the pitch, as Merv always used to.
They were each so good at the base of the scrum, so assured with ball in hand, so adept at putting opponents on the deck with their tackling, so canny at the breakdown. Indeed, many is the time Merv, playing for Swansea against Pontypool, used to drive us nuts by having this habit of just stopping the ball. Like Richie McCaw, he had this knack of putting his hand on it to slow us down, yet letting go the moment the referee was about to blow.
Or he’d just put his body on the ball at ruck time, oblivious to us raking and stamping over him which was part of our game at the time. No matter what treatment we dished out, Merv wouldn’t budge. Having got his way, he’d then just get up and smile knowingly - although I dread to think what his back actually looked like after our games.
As I say, it’s so hard to compare eras. So the only way I can look at the Merv versus Taulupe debate is through three tangibles.
One is the number of Lions Tests.
Taulupe played in five of them over three tours, Merv a straight eight against New Zealand and South Africa, and he was only on the losing side once. What a record.
The second point is that while Merv was universally recognised as the best No.8 in the world for many years, I don’t think that’s been the case with Taulupe, whatever his own brilliance, with others citing the case for Sergio Parisse, Kieran Read or David Pockock.
England fans have argued Billy Vunipola. Sorry, Taulupe has always been much the better of those two, in my eyes.
The third area where they differ is on leadership. Taulupe captained Wales just once, against Italy in 2018, whereas Merv was Wales’ regular skipper and, after our Grand Slam in 1976, he was being lined up to lead the Lions in 1977 before his terrible injury.
Make no mistake he’d have been a truly great Lions captain too, but let me tell you a couple of quick stories of what made Merv such a special leader.
My first Test was in Paris in 1975 and, while still young, I’d been around the block enough to have heard enough tales of captains showing fire and brimstone, really geeing up the team, dominant personalities. I just assumed that would be my first experience of Merv.
That morning we had a forwards meeting, Merv was quiet, so I guessed he’d leave it until just before we left the dressing room.
Not a bit of it, kick off drew nearer, others were shouting and screaming, winding us up - and I looked over to see Merv sitting on his own in the corner, cigarette in mouth, almost in a world of his own.
Suddenly he stubbed out the fag on the bench, stood up, said ‘Right then’, called us together and very simply told us what he wanted. Short and sharp, but it worked. He talked sense, the strong and silent type, but when he spoke you listened.
My first home game was then against England at the old National Stadium. We were lined up together in the tunnel and England ran out first, as happened back then. We could just hear this frenzy of noise, a mix of jeers and cheers.
Our turn to go - but Merv kept us waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Then, after an eternity, and only when the noise had subsided into pretty much total silence, Merv barked ‘Right, let’s go’.
The racket as he walked out of that tunnel. In an instant it went from silence into the most incredible din imaginable. You didn’t need extra motivation to play for Wales, but trust me that was a real hairs on the back of the neck moment.
You suddenly felt unbeatable. Merv knew exactly what he was doing, how this simple trick would give us an extra edge.
What a guy, what a player, what a world-class talent. As is the case with Taulupe Faletau, another true Welsh No.8 legend. Good luck with your 100th cap today, Taulupe - from an entire nation, including everyone involved with Pontypool Schools under-11