1980: MATCH BY MATCH
ENGLAND 24 IRELAND 9
REPLACEMENTS in those days had to sit in the West Stand. When Tony Bond went down with what was clearly a broken leg, I knew I was on, but I didn’t know the way down. I didn’t know Twickenham and I couldn’t find the lift. When I found it, it seemed in slow motion. When we got to the bottom I was trying to run up to the tunnel and take my tracksuit off at the same time. Then suddenly I was in the middle of Twickenham, about to play in front of 70,000 fans. It wasn’t how I had dreamed of making my England debut.
FRANCE 13 ENGLAND 17
FRANCE had a brutal pack but we boasted a mean set of forwards as well, led by Bill Beaumont (above) — and just for one season, we had them all on the pitch. There was a bit of nonsense at an early scrum with Richard Paparemborde trying all sorts — none of it legal — against Fran Cotton. Suddenly ‘Paper’ fell to the ground and Franny helped him on his way with a kick to his chest. He would have got a six-month ban these days. The giant prop looked up in shock; France were rattled. I stood there, open-mouthed. This was a very long way indeed from the student rugby I had been playing for Loughborough less than a year previously.
ENGLAND 9 WALES 8
ANOTHER savage match, though I didn’t get involved in the nastiness. My first memory was personal. Although English, I was schooled in north Wales and tried out a couple of times for Wales Schools at fly-half. I was thwarted by a certain Gareth Davies, a very fine player, and now there he was again in the opposition. So even in this huge contest, there was still that schoolboy rivalry going on in the back of my brain. And secondly I just knew Dusty Hare would slot that final and very awkward penalty out of the mud to win the game. It remains one of the best pressure kicks I have seen.
SCOTLAND 18 ENGLAND 30
IT WAS tense. We had waited a month since the ‘Battle of Twickenham’ with Wales and the RFU slipped a letter under our hotel-room doors on the Friday night warning against a repeat of such atrocities. The plan was simple: monster Scotland up front with our pack, kick well, dominate territorially, press hard and Dusty would kick the goals. But the adrenalin was flowing and we backs started running from all parts. We turned around 19-0 up and a fuming Cotton was last to join our huddle. ‘What happened to our f***ing game plan?’ complained Fran. Priceless.