APARTHEID TOUR
40 years on, former Lions stars recall defying the protests, shock at white-only beaches and being cult heroes to black fans on the...
FORTY YEARS AGO, the British and Irish Lions left for a divisive tour of South Africa, despite the opposition of the British and Irish Governments and groups who were against sporting contact with the apartheid regime. Sportsmail’s legendary columnist Ian Wooldridge was among those who opposed it. WILL KELLEHER speaks to players who went for their views of the tour then and now.
CLIVE WOODWARD ENGLAND CENTRE
I WAS not going to change anything sitting on my sofa in Leicester. Of course apartheid was horrible, but you don’t gain anything from boycotting.
During the ‘Stop the 1970 Tours’ protests I was 14 at school in north Wales, so I did not have many memories of that — but I did get some hassle about going in 1980.
It was nothing sinister but I was sent letters by the campaigner Peter Hain and others, saying I shouldn’t go. The USA boycotted the 1980 Olympics in Moscow, which maybe meant the Lions were under a bit less scrutiny when they decided to tour South Africa.
No one who was picked didn’t go, but teachers especially were under huge pressure not to tour. John Carleton, the England winger, lost his job as a teacher by going.
My decision was not based on personal ambition, but I did not want to be told what to do and thought the way to improve a country was to go there and say what you think once there. I was 24 and hadn’t really been abroad or toured with England as it was my first year of international rugby, so to go to South Africa was huge.
I enjoyed South Africa and the people, but it was alarming seeing signs indicating things like ‘white only beaches’.
I had a chat with one of the few South African black players at the time, Errol Tobias. I asked him: ‘Are you pleased we’re here?’ He said: ‘Yes. You’ll break this down more by being here, talking about it, educating people’. It reassured me I’d made the right call.
The South Africans were delighted we were there, but the black fans wore red shirts and supported us against the white Springboks.
On a three-month trip with 18 matches including four Tests, you got to know your team-mates well. I often roomed with Welsh centre Ray Gravell — the funniest person I’ve ever met in rugby, completely barmy!
He nicknamed me ‘Soft Centre’. He didn’t think I was tough enough or could tackle like him — akin to being hit by a truck!
It stuck and years later, when I coached England and he worked for BBC Wales, every time we played Wales he would sneak up on me and smash me into the ground! Then he’d stand above me and say, ‘I told you you were a soft centre!’ I dreaded it! He’d knock me over in restaurants, pitches, tunnels, everything!
He was an awesome guy who tragically died way too early.
The highlight of the 1980 trip was visiting Gary Player at his ranch near Johannesburg with Andy Irvine, John Robbie and Peter Wheeler. I love my golf, so it was fantastic. He came out all in black, glove out of his back pocket and he had this driver with a lead head weighing a ton.
He practised in front of us and then took his index and middle finger and held it out horizontally (pictured above). He said: ‘If you can do this, you can have my ranch’. The place was worth millions. It was impossible, but his hands were so strong. He’d built them up by squeezing tennis balls wherever he went.
We won all 14 midweek matches against strong teams like Western Province, Transvaal, Orange Free State. I wasn’t picked for the first Test, which we lost, and then played centre with Gravell for the second. We lost that, too.
I lost us the third. I was out of position on the wing, which I wasn’t happy about, and tapped a ball into touch then, fatefully ,turned my back. I should have booted it further. The Boks took a quick throw and scored to win.
I was annoyed to be dropped for the last Test, which the Lions won. I have no regrets at going and have been many times since — I genuinely thought it was the right thing to do, still do.
To know what South Africa was like, then watch Siya Kolisi lift the World Cup last year was amazing. Hopefully they’ll get even stronger, more representative and we enjoy a great tour next summer.
ANDY IRVINE SCOTLAND FULL-BACK
I PULLED a hamstring at the Hong Kong Sevens a month before, but turned up in London in my blazer ready to travel with the Lions.
For the first time we had a travelling doctor. He tested me at the airport and said: ‘You’ve got a bit of a problem here still’, so I flew back to Edinburgh. Half an hour after the first Test manager Syd Millar called saying: ‘Get your kit, we’re flying you out tonight’.
Mike Slemen’s wife had a pregnancy complication, so I replaced him. I played three Tests but tweaked my hamstring again so didn’t train during the week.
In 1974, I toured with my heroes Mike Gibson, Willie John McBride and Gareth Edwards and never thought of apartheid. For me, it was just another protest I didn’t understand. I’d have gone to the moon if the Lions had picked me.
In 1980 it was different. I roomed with John Robbie and we talked about it. He was very much against apartheid. More politically aware at 28, I came back thinking, ‘Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to do’.
There was no travelling support, maybe only 150 or 200, so 99 per cent of the fans were patriotic, one-eyed South Africans. We became cult heroes for the black fans. There was a corner for ‘blacks only’ so we always ran to them to acknowledge their support for us.
We could have drawn that series 2-2, but they won 3-1. Losing big games narrowly had an impact on the feelgood factor and a lot of lads were conscious of whether it was the right thing to do to go.
It was one of the last tours to go to South Africa. The isolation that came afterwards must have had an impact on speeding up the change to democracy.
Had we not gone, would it have accelerated that? Possibly. But it was wider than rugby, clearly.
JOHN ROBBIE IRELAND SCRUM-HALF
I THOUGHT I’d missed my Lions chance in 1977 as I broke my leg before the trip, but in 1980 I played for the Barbarians against Cardiff and afterwards Syd Millar said I was a Lions reserve.
Then I was invited by Ian Robertson to play in Zimbabwe, Rhodesia. Warming up in Bulawayo, someone stuck their head in the room and said: ‘Terry Holmes is injured. Play here, then fly to South Africa’.
When I arrived Millar said: ‘Even if you never play you’re as much a Lion as Willie John McBride’. I am getting goosebumps thinking about it now.
I was rushed to Stellenbosch for a game, Mike Slemen lent me socks and I sat on the bench for the sixth tour match, then the first Test a week later!
I played seven games, no defeats and featured in the final Test. I’d snuck on tour and fulfilled my life’s ambition.
Politics came when I went with Ireland the following year — I lost my job as a graduate trainee at Guinness.
In 1980, Liverpool’s Steve Heighway, Manchester United boss Dave Sexton and Viv Anderson were over there coaching soccer. First Division soccer players were like gods, but while staying at their hotel, people came up to us for autographs.
Things crept in on tour. I went to the University of Cape Town — which they called ‘Moscow on the Hill’, as it was quite radical by South African standards — with Ollie Campbell to practise kicking. Chatting to students, you suddenly felt there was more to it.
In the hotel, a black soccer team told Billy Beaumont and I: ‘We’re very disappointed in you’. We thought they meant that we’d lost the first Test. ‘No, you don’t understand. We’re disappointed in you coming’. It wasn’t nasty, but a few hours later they were moved out.
We played against ‘multi-racial’ teams and went to hospitals, townships and schools but now I realise it was very stage-managed.
Every ground was jam-packed and we won all the tour games. Against a South African Invitation
XV we scored a wonderful try that went through about 30 pairs of hands and Slemen scored.
I went on to have a long career on South African radio trying to hold those in power to account, so in a way it was fate I went in 1980 — being a Lion gave me currency.
A week after I started on radio in 1990 Nelson Mandela was released, the country went bananas and my radio programme became a hit. I only retired three years ago.
Living in South Africa for 35 years now, I’d love to say I’d refused to tour in 1980. Yet I went and it was a wonderfully happy tour — I have this great contradiction in my life and I’m gradually learning to forgive myself.
There is a long way to go to mend the country, but the recent World Cup win with Kolisi as captain was very important.
JIM RENWICK SCOTLAND CENTRE
WE were away in May having met in a hotel in London, kind of quietly.
Some MPs said we shouldn’t have gone. It was Thatcher’s government who said we shouldn’t, but the feeling was that we were going to play rugby.
South Africa were ostracised more afterwards. In 1980 apartheid was very strong. I had been there the year before with Surrey so had seen a bit of it.
Although I did not like what was happening it didn’t worry me enough not to go on my first Lions tour.
When we got there, the hospitality was fantastic. They would drive us down the streets in big cars and people waved at us.
There was pressure from a rugby sense because in 1974 the Lions were unbeaten in South Africa, so expectations were high.
It was a good tour. We won all the provincial games, which was not easy going between altitude and sea-level, playing with South African referees.
We trained in the mornings and then were allowed to do what we wanted in the afternoons. We went fishing, had organised trips to schools and hospitals and went to Soweto one day.
Alan Tomes and I were from the same club, Hawick, and decided we wanted to see the country, so one day we drove a train near Cape Town! I’d never driven a train before! Other times we went jet-boating, or played golf.
You weren’t stuck for pals on that trip. We had the “Sunday School” where we sat around the pool drinking. The pubs would be closed, but Billy Beaumont, Maurice Colclough, John Carleton, Alan Tomes and me decided we would train hard in the week then let our hair down on the Sunday.
I didn’t have a phone back home, so would write to my wife. You’d look forward to the letters.
The tour fee was £4.95 a day, so we made about £30 a week (£130 in today’s money) — about the wage of a working man.
We picked up a lot of injuries, which didn’t help, and didn’t have a backs coach either. I played in 12 of the games on tour, so I did my share.
We put our heart and soul into it and could have done better, but it was not to be.
You can look back and say: “We could have done this or that” but we had the attitude that we were there to do a job.