Jiffy at 60: ‘When I reflect on it all, I just hope my dad would have been proud of me’
Jonathan ‘Jiffy’ Davies has just celebrated his 60th birthday, but is showing no signs of slowing down, as Ben James reports...
‘AFTER this bloody birthday, I’m going quiet for a bit!”
Getting hold of Jonathan ‘Jiffy’ Davies is no easy feat at the minute. He is coming off the back of a month of celebrations for his landmark 60th birthday, has the Rugby League World Cup to commentate on, with the union autumn internationals looming.
“We’ve had a couple of parties,” he tells us. “I won’t be having another party for at least five years.”
“The 60th does make you reflect, but I think I reflected more when I was stuck in Dubai for 11 days over Christmas last year,” the man known the world over as Jiffy explains. “It was mentally very tough being in isolation on Christmas Day and I had a lot of thinking time over there.
“You think about what you’ve got and how quickly it could get taken away from you. I think you get to a stage in life, when you’re 60, that you’ve done the hard yards and you can reap the rewards of where you are in life.”
Rugby is what has provided him with those rewards – Davies readily admits the sport has been his life – and there is no sign of him giving up on that any time soon. That familiar voice will still be commentating excitedly on Six Nations matches for a little while longer at least.
Commentary and punditry are things Davies has been synonymous with for more than two decades and he credits others for aiding his road to success. It’s a thread which runs through all he does – it’s as much about who you surround yourself with as anything else when it comes to success.
Whether it’s the vast swathes of broadcasting icons – Ray French, Bill McLaren and Eddie Butler, to name but a few – or the roll call of icons from both codes in his playing days, Davies believes himself to be just as fortunate for the skills of those around him as his own.
On the subject of Butler, Davies remains, as many others do, shocked at the loss.
The former Wales rugby captain and much-loved broadcaster died aged 65 in his sleep while in Peru on a fundraising hike in September. The impact of his death hasn’t subsided for Jiffy and so many others.
“We just got on great,” he says. “We enjoyed working together. That was the main thing. We all had a good laugh. We used to have great craic during internationals and I also worked with Eddie during the Scrum V days. There are just so many great moments with him. It was just unbelievable.”
Sadly, as well as Butler, another man of influence in Davies’ life died earlier this year. For so many, Phil Bennett was an icon of Welsh rugby, ‘Benny’ as much a byword for the artistry of that entire generation as any other name. For Jiffy, it was no different.
“Benny was a big influence,” adds Davies. “I’d watched him train a lot and then I actually trained with him when he was just retiring on the sprint track at Bryngwyn.”
When Davies’ trial with Llanelli didn’t end in success, it was Bennett who put in a call to Neath, urging the club to sign the talented young flyhalf.
“I’m indebted to Benny for my break in rugby. Even though he was from Felinfoel, he had a close association with Trimsaran. He was just a really, really nice guy. Funnily enough, his birthday is the same day as mine. He was a constant in my life.
“Coming from such a small place as Wales, you find you become friends with the greats as we all come from similar backgrounds. It’s nice when you meet your heroes, the likes of Benny, Gareth, Gerald, and become friends with them.”
For Davies, as with so many of the Welsh greats, it is that contrast between humble village beginnings and the esteem with which he is held which is fascinating. The young lad from Trimsaran came to be adored by a nation for following in his predecessor’s footsteps.
But that mix of village and global appeal is perhaps amplified by Davies’ move north in the late-1980s.
Heading to rugby league at that time was turning your back on union and, in effect, home. Before union went professional, there was no way back.
“You made your bed and you had to lie in it,” Davies recalls. But that exile of sorts only strengthened Davies’ convictions to say what he thinks. That same young lad from Trimsaran was now out in the world on his own, running out against Australia at Wembley.
“Leaving Wales and going out to the wider world helps,” Davies says when it comes to not suffering fools gladly. “Wales is small and parochial sometimes. You’ve just got to say what you think and go from there. It can be a double-edged sword. That’s the way it is. Sometimes, you’ve got to stick your head over the parapet.”
Occasionally, that has invited critics, but it’s not something Davies overly concerns himself with.
His first spell in union saw him leave after a tough tour of New Zealand and a defeat to Romania in Cardiff.
At the time, he felt the game wasn’t being supported enough by the Welsh Rugby Union – plus ça change.
“I thought the New Zealanders trained like pros, because they had sponsors and were compensated if they trained,” he explains. “I didn’t think we were on a level playing field and, until that happened, I didn’t think we’d win anything.”
Wales did little at the 1991 and 1995 World Cups, while rugby league enjoyed Davies’ best years. There is a tinge of disappointment for Davies that union missed out on a generation of league-bound talent, while he missed out on pulling on a British and Irish Lions jersey. It doesn’t quite reach the notion of regret, though.
His views on the modern game are equally strong. He admits to occasionally being bored by the advent of box-kicks and driving mauls.
He also, like many others, holds concerns over the financial future of the game. The situation at Worcester and Wasps has exposed how “precarious” things are.
Davies doesn’t begrudge those players who draw in sponsors and crowds earning decent wages, but he feels a closer look is needed at “income and expenditure” when it comes to, as he puts it, “a lot of average players earning big money”.
Perhaps the only times when his views on the game weren’t, as he can recall, that strong was upon his return to union in 1995.
“When I came back from league, I didn’t worry about politics. I just wanted to enjoy it.”
That is more than understandable, given what was happening off the pitch. At the time, his wife Karen had been diagnosed with cancer. She passed away in 1997, becoming the second family member he had lost to the disease following the death of his father when Davies was only 14.
That is what has led him to throw himself into something which surpasses anything he achieved on the rugby pitch. As president of Velindre, he has helped to raise £40m for the cancer centre charity. This year alone has seen him take part in three bike rides, the last of which in America raised £1m.
As he reflects on the last 60 years, and his on-field exploits in particular, he has found a new lens through which to appreciate it all.
“All the opportunities I’ve had are because of rugby. I remember I tore my cruciates when I was 18, playing for Neath.
“I realised then that you’re only a hamstring away from oblivion. You have to make the most of it. I squeezed as much as I could out of it. The same goes for life. I crammed a lot in. My mates say you have one life so live it. I certainly lived it. You just look back and you appreciate the things that have happened to you, playing at the top level in sport.
“When I reflect on it all, I just hope my dad would have been proud of me.”