Empty table now that Bastiat has gone

EVERY year, Jean-Pierre Bastiat would organise a reunion dinner for those who won the French Grand Slam in 1977.

And every year, Bastiat paid the bill without anyone knowing. “He lived his life always sharing what he had,’’ says the rugby author Richard Escot. “He loved to sing and he loved to eat at those long French meals that start at midday and finish four hours later.’’

Born in a village in the foothills of the Pyrenees, Bastiat left school without any qualifications, started work as a postman and ended up owning one of the biggest insurance companies. In his youth he played basketball until his local club, Dax, persuaded him to give rugby a try.

He went almost straight into the firstteam at 19. The following year he was playing for France, in the second row against Romania. At 21, he made his Five Nations debut in Paris, against Scotland.

His switch to No.8 brought France the spectacular reward of three successive Grand Slam deciders between 1976 and 1978. In between losing twice to Wales in Cardiff, they beat Ireland at Lansdowne Road where Bastiat galloped over for the only try.

Bastiat’s dexterity transferred seamlessly from basketball court to rugby field. “He always caught the ball,’’ says Escot. “Even when the throw wasn’t anywhere near him.’’

Bastiat would be in fine voice at the lavish postmatch banquets in Paris, giving a more than acceptable impression of Caruso. He was a musician, a raconteur and so successful in the insurance business he could afford to stop working seven years ago.

He cherished old rugby friends and had been in their company a few days ago before his sudden death from a stroke at the age of 71. He is the third of that mighty French team to depart following Robert Paparemborde, and Jacques Fouroux.