‘A banana came flying out of the crowd and landed right at my feet’

tember, not long after they had returned, and Spike Watkins, one of the biggest characters in the game, was in the home side.

We were in the clubhouse after the game and Spike was talking to Gareth Williams (Bridgend skipper) and he asked, “How was Zimbabwe?” “Yeah, it was great.” Then Spike nodded his head towards me, standing nearby, minding my own business, and said, “I see you brought back a souvenir”.

I just looked at him – we later became friends but back then I was only a 19-year-old starting his rugby career. You could never get away with saying something like that in this day and age but, at the time, I thought it was really funny. It was just the way Spikey was, he was a really quickwitted character.

Then there was the time I played for Neath – I was invited over to Ireland on tour with them and was never one to turn such trips down – and Brian Thomas’ big joke was, “There you are, Webby, you won’t have to wear a jersey, we’ll just paint a white Maltese cross on your chest!”

They all roared with laughter at that but I thought, “I’ll let you have that one”. It was quite funny and it was a really good trip.

You have got to be able to laugh at yourself, no matter who you are. THE DAY A BANANA WAS THROWN AT ME There was only one major incident of racism directed towards me during my playing career – although you could argue that was one too many. It took place during my second season with Bridgend, so I was still only young. We had been drawn in the Welsh Cup against our neighbours, Maesteg, up in the Old Parish ground.

It was always a grudge match as it seemed that all the best players in Maesteg ended up coming down the valley to play for Bridgend, while those not quite able to make the grade at the Brewery Field would wander up and play for Maesteg.

So they always had a point to prove when they played against us – but we always had that little bit of extra class. All the blood and guts and fire and brimstone came from Maesteg, while all the class and expertise, knowhow and finesse came from Bridgend.

It was always a battle of styles and always a closerun game, so they would do anything they could to try to unnerve us.

On this particular occasion the ground was packed and there was one heck of an atmosphere. At one point our hooker, Colin Hillman, was down and receiving treatment so the home crowd concentrated on trying to unnerve us.

Playing out on the wing I could hear all sorts – there were monkey chants but I just ignored them and refused to let it affect me – I didn’t want them to know that I could hear it.

Then I heard, “Webbe! Webbe! Webbe!” They were trying to get my attention but I pretended not to hear them. Then someone called me by one of my nicknames, “Glenno! Hey Glenno!”

I thought that it may have been someone who I knew, so I turned and with that a banana came flying out of the crowd and landed right between my feet.

I looked at the banana, picked it up, peeled it, took a little bite and threw it back into the crowd, who all clapped and cheered.

It was such a strange thing to do. If it happened today there would be a big police investigation and the perpetrator would face a day in court, there’s no doubt about it. But I just chose to think of the bloke who had actually thrown that banana.

Did he wake up and say: “Right, what am I going to do today? I know, I’m going to go to the greengrocers and I’m going to buy a banana, then I’m going to go to the rugby and wait until Glenn Webbe gets near me and then I’m going to throw it at him!”

When you think of the actual effort that he had to go through for something like that, he must have been planning it for a week. It was bonkers. OVERLOOKED BY WALES BECAUSE I WAS BLACK? Before I was capped, I was asked on a weekly basis by people if I thought I was being overlooked because of the colour of my skin.

Obviously, there is no way of determining that but I would hate to think that the Welsh Rugby Union were swayed by the colour of a player’s skin, and such things were done solely on talent and ability.

After all, David Bishop wasn’t black and he was overlooked far worse than I was.

It’s often reported that I was the first black player to play rugby union for Wales – although Mark Brown, the Pontypool flanker, was actually capped before me and he was of mixed heritage. The truth of the matter is, to me, I never saw it as a race thing, I was just a rugby player and like to think I was pretty retty good at it and so was s picked d to represent m y coun- try.

Glenn nn Webbe: The Gloves Are Off, is published by Y Lolfa, priced £9.99