Читать книгу Gavin Henson: My Grand Slam Year - Gavin Henson - Страница 8

The singing during the anthems was loud and passionate and there was a real sense of anticipation inside the stadium. The weather made it feel like a summer’s day. We kicked off but it was Ireland who looked more comfortable in those opening few minutes. They were methodical and direct, as they always are, and for a while it looked as if it was going to be a really tight game. Ronan O’Gara kicked a penalty to give them the lead and Stephen Jones missed with his first effort. I was on the end of a big hit from Kevin Maggs early on and it seemed to go down particularly well with the rest of his team-mates – particularly O’Driscoll.

I didn’t really know Brian at this stage and it wouldn’t be until the Lions tour that I would appreciate the real person behind the rugby player. But that tackle from Maggs seemed to be the signal for Brian to unleash a lot of pent up frustration – rage, perhaps – over the defeat to France and the loss of the Grand Slam Ireland had been chasing since 1948. Maggs tackled me and I lost the ball in contact. It was probably going to be a knock-on, but I re-gathered to try and set it up. As I was on the ground, O’Driscoll came in and tried to ‘jackal’ – a term we use to mean the stealing of the ball from your opponent on the ground. But instead of just trying to rip the ball clear, he also decided to pull my hair and tried to gouge my eye for good measure. ‘How do like that, you cocky little fucker?’ There was a real flash of anger in his eyes. It was intense. I still don’t really know what had wound him up. It may have been something I’d said in the build-up. I’d probably been asked the question, ‘Do you think you’ll beat Ireland.’ To which I’d probably said, yes. I can’t be bothered with all that nonsense of playing down your own team and building up the opposition – still can’t.

Whatever it was, Brian seemed to lose it. I know he takes a lot of the paper talk very seriously. I saw it on the Lions tour, well before all the business with the Tana Umaga incident had kicked off. Piri Weepu, the All Blacks scrum-half, was in the Maori side that beat the Lions early on in the tour. Afterwards, Weepu had said something which Brian felt was disrespectful and it obviously rankled with him because it was mentioned in the build-up to the match against Wellington, where Weepu was involved again. It was like a red rag to a bull.

I ended up getting on well with Brian in New Zealand and discovered him to be a really good guy. But like many players, he seems to take on a different personality when he steps onto the pitch. I can never really understand that. I just don’t go in for it. I would rather try and stay relaxed and focused than get wound up by an opponent. If someone has a cheap shot at me – a punch, a stamp, tugs my hair or tries to gouge me – I’m more likely to just say, ‘What’s your problem?’ than rise to it. Sometimes, that makes them even more wound up. But I’d rather get my own back by scoring a try or kicking a goal, or making a big legitimate tackle, than something sly. The players I really can’t stand are the ones who act like dicks on the field – cheap shots off-the-ball all the time – and then try and be your best mate when the game’s over. There are a few about.

After O’Gara’s penalty we were behind, but there was no panic. We built an attack in the 11th minute but it wasn’t really going anywhere. I could sense we had lost momentum so I stepped back ready to receive and try a drop-goal. Fair play to Dwayne Peel, he’s always so aware of what’s going on around him, and he spotted my move straight away. The ball came back to me, about 40 metres from the posts, and I drop-kicked for three points to tie the scores. The Ireland prop, Reggie Corrigan, who’s a big lump, tried to charge the ball down but only managed to deflect it. Instead of altering the line of the ball, though, it just made it spin end-over-end as it went through the posts. On other days the deflection might have knocked it off course, but not this day. I watched it spin its way over and I thought, ‘This is it. It’s going to be our day.’ I felt I had struck it well, anyway, and if Corrigan hadn’t got a touch then I think it would have gone over. But you can never be quite sure with drop goals and that’s where they differ from place kicks. Everything has to be spot on with a drop goal and you can never feel straight away that you’ve scored as you can with a place kick. A drop goal is a difficult skill and not many players master it.

It was my first drop goal for Wales and it had taken me until my 16th cap to get it, so I felt pretty happy as we ran back for the re-start. It was 3–3 and still very tight. We just needed something to spark us, something to put us on our way. It came when O’Gara had the ball on his own 10-metre line and took a fraction longer to clear the ball than he should have. Gethin Jenkins, one of the fastest and fittest prop forwards in the world, only needed a fraction and suddenly the ball had smacked into Gethin’s outstretched arms and was flying off behind the Irish back-line. Gethin got there first and hacked the ball on towards their line. ‘Please don’t mess it up. Please watch the bounce.’ But I never really doubted him. He’s a superb player. He showed great skill, composure and patience and scored the try.

Gethin has two nicknames. The first is Melon-head. Believe it or not, it’s because his head is shaped a bit like a melon. The other is Nightmare-head. This refers to the fact that he’s always ‘sapping’ – draining the energy and enthusiasm from others. There’s always something wrong, according to Geth. Either we’re training too hard, or too long, or we’re having too many team meetings, or he doesn’t see what this or that meeting is for, or why do we have to attend this dinner. Whatever’s happening, Gethin won’t like it and won’t be happy. If Stephen Jones was put on the earth to make everyone feel good about life, then Gethin is here to bring everyone down.

But what a player. He has to be the best prop forward in world rugby right now, or very close to it. He’s certainly the fastest and the fittest in the Six Nations. He’s got it all. There were a few question marks about his scrummaging at one time, especially when Steve Hansen was playing him on the tight-head. But since he’s become an established loose-head, he’s never looked back. Gethin trains really hard and always has the best fitness results among the forwards. He’s also the strongest man in the squad. When you add in his natural speed, then it’s a pretty awesome package. He’s a real character, likes to go out, and with his new found fame he’s out there doing some real damage with the ladies.

I have to say, I do feel sorry for our own loose-head prop at the Ospreys, Duncan Jones. He was up there alongside Gethin not very long ago and looked just as likely to go on the Lions tour. Unfortunately, Duncan got injured at exactly the wrong time and it cost him a trip to New Zealand.

Melon’s try was converted by Stephen Jones before we were awarded a penalty about a yard inside our own half. It was a re-run of the England kick in a sense. Stephen looked at it but quickly signalled for me to have a go. It was longer than the England kick, but easier as this was more or less in front of the posts. Again, all I had to tell myself was not to try and kick it too hard. The Millennium Stadium is a good one for goal-kickers because there is hardly ever any wind. So long as you strike it well, there’s no room for excuses. I had been kicking well in training that week and felt confident. It was a long way – over 50 metres – but it clipped the inside of the post and went over. Suddenly, we were 13–3 ahead and the crowd were already singing.

The burst of scoring was vital. It not only opened up a gap between the sides, but it settled our nervousness and allowed us to play with freedom. Ireland attacked us, but we defended well and little mistakes began to creep into their game. O’Gara, in particular, started to look frustrated. On the rare occasions they did manage to get the ball to O’Driscoll, Tom Shanklin and I coped well and made our tackles. We were not doing anything particularly fancy; there was little of the spectacular handling style we had shown at Murrayfield. But we were doing enough. We had taken our chances and hustled Ireland into blowing theirs. When Ireland made another error at a ruck, Stephen struck his first penalty and the lead was extended to 16–3.

O’Gara kicked a goal himself before half-time but we went back to our dressing room with a massive roar of encouragement from the crowd. They were now sharing our confidence and the anxieties that were apparent on their faces before the kick-off had given way to smiles. Mike Ruddock and Michael Owen both stressed the need to keep playing on the front foot and not to sit back. The feeling was that the next score would be critical. If we could get it then the Irish would feel it was a long way back and their self-belief might suffer. Most all we knew we were just 40 minutes away from winning a Grand Slam.

Just as we had wanted, we gained the first score through another penalty kick from Steve. O’Gara missed again and I could tell from his face the doubts were setting in. Rugby at this level is all about belief. There is an abundance of ability in a Test match but it comes down to which players feel confident enough to play at the very top of their game. We certainly felt on top of ours even if we had not yet scaled the uppermost peaks.

We should have added a second try soon after O’Gara’s miss but Martyn Williams dropped a pass. It was probably the only one he put down in the whole of the Six Nations because a couple of days later he would be voted the player of the tournament. When Ireland gave away another penalty, and Steve put it over, we had pushed our lead up to 22–6. It hadn’t been the same flurry of tries as against the Scots. We had needed to accumulate our points more steadily. But the effect was the same; the match was going away from the opposition and we felt in control.

Our forwards were now well on top and when Ireland did try and run at us I felt strong in the tackle. We knew another try would kill them off and when it came it was a good one. We drove through a couple of phases and then the call was for me to have the ball from Stephen. But fair play to Steve, he noticed the Irish defence had drifted early and so instead of picking out me he gave the ball to Tom Shanklin. Ireland’s midfield were not anticipating that. They thought the ball was coming my way. Tom had picked such a great angle – really straight – that he just burst through them. If a defence is on the drift and you blast through on a hard angle it causes panic. That’s what happened. Shanks went through and had the presence of mind to off-load to Kevin Morgan who raced over.

It was an awesome try and maybe the one moment in that match when we created something off the cuff that was more typical of the way we like to play. I was so far behind play after the dummy run I could see the hole opening up for Shanks. He gave it to ‘Rat’ and there was no stopping him. Steve’s conversion made it 29–6 with 20 minutes still to go. I think it was also a significant try for Tom. He had been talked about as a possible Lions tourist before the game but it was that try which probably clinched his trip. I really enjoy playing alongside Shanks. He’s very solid, reads the game well, and I felt he had a superb championship. He would certainly have been in my Lions party, regardless of that break. But it was such a great moment it had everyone talking about him.

I was also really pleased for Kevin Morgan. Rat had gone through a terrible time with injuries but showed great courage and determination to come all the way back. No-one was more deserving of a championship medal. He was very unlucky not to go on the Lions tour as he is an excellent full-back and he seems to be even quicker now than he was before his knee problems.

Ireland then came back at us, but I think we took our foot off the gas. Their prop, Marcus Horan, who had come on as a replacement, went over as we slacked off a bit in defence. There was no panic, though. We went straight back on the attack and Steve kicked another penalty to make it 32–13. But we did drop off a little in the last few minutes. It’s somehow inevitable when you think you’ve got the game won. At Test level you only need to drop your efforts by half a per cent and teams will make you pay. It happened in the last half hour against Scotland and it happened in the final few minutes against Ireland. With four minutes left they scored a second try through their full-back, Geordan Murphy, another player I would get to know on the Lions tour later that year.

That encounter was a strange one, though. Murphy had the ball and I thought he was going to dive early so I slid in to try and make him dive on my legs, in the hope he might spill the ball. Instead, he kept on running and scored anyway. He stumbled a little and it must have looked from some angles as though I had tripped him. In fact, we hadn’t made contact. Murphy was fine about it, and didn’t make a meal of things, which I was grateful for as I feared I might get a yellow card. But O’Driscoll came running over and started shouting abuse again. ‘You’re a fucking wanker!’ Weird. They’d just scored a try. I just looked at him and he carried on swearing and pointing over. Then, just as suddenly as he’d come over, he was off again.

It didn’t really make much difference – the try or the reaction. We were still 12 points ahead and there was no way we were going to let it slip. But we did slack off, no doubt about it. And that’s something we have to work on. Against England we stopped playing, we relaxed against the Italians after building up a big lead, in Paris the French came back because we sat on our advantage, we allowed Scotland to save face, and now Ireland had given us a little scare because of the same problem. That’s the one thing I really admire about the All Blacks. They are totally ruthless. They are far more likely to rub your nose in it than slack off. We haven’t got the same attitude. Maybe it’s because quite a few players in this Welsh squad are not used to winning against the better teams. When we are in a winning position, we tend to reflect on it during the match itself, rather than concentrate on increasing the winning margin.

I know I’m guilty of it. I’m hoping that I’ll become more ruthless as I get more used to success.

But I don’t think Ireland really threatened to upset the outcome in those final minutes. We had no real concerns. We won 32–20. The final whistle went and I felt a weird combination of intense relief and uncontrollable excitement. All the pressure I’d felt all week seemed to flow out of me and I felt quite tired. Incredibly happy that we had won the Grand Slam, but tired, too. The match had been all about winning. It had been a long, hard campaign and we had come through a lot together as a group. If it had ended on the wrong note then it would have been so deflating.

We hugged each other and smiled. We’d done it. All the questions asked during the week-long build-up had been answered. I was keen to get on with the presentation. I wanted to lift the trophy. I wanted to see the fireworks and watch the champagne corks pop. When it came to the moment, it felt really good. It felt as though we were Manchester United and we had just won the Champions League. I’d watched that kind of thing and always wondered what it felt like. Now, I knew. Michael Owen and Gareth Thomas picked up the Six Nations trophy together – the match day captain and the tournament captain. We got our medals, each got our hands on the trophy, and did a lap of honour. The fans were ecstatic and so were we. It’s difficult to describe what a high I was on. We went back to the dressing rooms and there were photographers and more champagne. It was quite a scene. Everyone was hugging and shaking hands, but there were a lot of tired bodies as well. Even so, I think all the boys showered and changed just a little more quickly than usual. Then, some of the players’ family members came in to say well done.

I met up with Charlotte at the after-match dinner before all the players, plus wives and girlfriends, went to a function laid on by Brains, the brewers who had become our shirt sponsors. Needless to say, the beer was on them. We enjoyed a great night and it felt good to be together in celebration with the same guys I had been alongside for so many weeks. Like the rest of Cardiff, and the rest of Wales, we made sure the party went on long into the night and I eventually made it back to the team hotel at about 5am.

The next morning I had hoped to spend recovering from the night before. But after doing all the media interviews there was a call from the team management to be ready to board the bus by noon. It appeared the celebrations were still in full swing. I had a horrible hangover but managed to get my head together after a few bottles of water and limped onto the team bus. I was wrecked. We were driven into the centre of Cardiff and dropped at a bar called The Yard, a pub owned by Brains on the site of their old brewery headquarters. Downstairs were punters who looked as if they hadn’t been to bed from the night before, but we were ushered upstairs and into another private party.

I’m not really a big drinker. In fact, I can comfortably go for a couple of months without a single drink. Every once in a while, I like to let my hair down a bit with a few mates, and then I’ll be back into strict training mode and I won’t touch another drop for the next few weeks. So, two heavy sessions in successive days is not something I’m very used to – or much good at. It wasn’t long before all the players were playing drinking games to get in the mood and not very long at all before I was completely smashed. This was a players’ only deal. No wives. No girlfriends. So it was all a bit macho and a bit excessive to say the least. The trouble with stupid drinking games is that if you lose you have to drink more. Then, you are even more drunk and so you lose again. After a little while, I was gone – completely steaming. I dropped a glass and everything after that is a bit of a blur. I was told everything else the next morning as I don’t remember any of it. It was suggested I go home – not a bad idea, all things considered – but as I left I verbally abused a couple of bouncers. Some pictures were taken by a woman who seemed to have gatecrashed the party, there was a bit of a scuffle, and I ended up being given a lift home by the police. Luckily, one of my mates had turned up and he was able to look after me.

The next morning, after I’d cleared up the mess in my bedroom, I realised I’d lost my mobile phone and it wasn’t long before there were stories in the newspapers about pictures of Charlotte being sent around the world. To cap it all, I was summoned by Alan Phillips, the Wales team manager, to go and have a private word. Apparently, there had been some damage caused in the pub toilets, although my own memories of anything that may or may not have happened were extremely sketchy. A senior police officer turned up to tell me how lucky I was not to have been arrested for being drunk and disorderly. It could have meant a night in a cell, a court case, he said. It could have meant missing out with the Lions. Fair enough, I thought, I was out of order. But if I’d been left to myself I’d have spent a quiet Sunday recovering from the night before. I was only in the pub because I had been told to go there and encouraged to spend all day drinking. I hadn’t behaved very cleverly, but it was one of those situations where the whole atmosphere takes over and affects your behaviour. It had been an amazing 48 hours and I hadn’t had much sleep. I’m not trying to make excuses. There’s certainly no excuse for causing damage in a toilet, but all the booze and the back-slapping meant I lost my senses. I certainly lost my common sense, that’s for sure, and it’s not an evening I can look back on with much pride.

As well as the sobering experience of hearing about my behaviour from the police, I also made a visit to see one of the senior Brains people to apologise. They had enjoyed brilliant publicity from their sponsorship of the Wales team, but this was the kind of stuff they could do without. I told them how sorry I was and offered to pay for the damage. It was a strange end to an amazing weekend. It’s not every day you are invited to take your fill of what was, literally, a piss up in a brewery. But then it’s not every day you win the Grand Slam.

Looking back, I think the key word in what we achieved was excitement. We play an exciting brand of rugby that gets us excited as players and that feeds into our fantastic support. The fans get excited watching our style of play and that, in turn, gives us an extra lift again. Basically, our game-plan is to attack from anywhere on the field. There are no rules. No restrictions. In my view, it’s the best way to play rugby and it’s great to be involved in a group with that mentality. With the Ospreys, and with most of our rivals in the Six Nations, things are more structured. The players are programmed to kick in certain areas of the field, to drive it through the forwards in other parts, and to only attack when they get into the danger areas. It’s how most teams play nowadays. But with Wales we are encouraged to attack from behind our own goal-line if we feel there is an opportunity.

It’s the type of rugby I always wanted to play as a kid, with the emphasis on running and passing. But because I’ve always been able to kick the ball a long way, most of the teams I’ve been involved with over the years have wanted me to use that ability – even when it often went against the grain. Of course, I love kicking the ball because it’s one of my strengths. But given the choice, I’d far rather be part of an adventurous running side that keeps the ball in hand.

A huge influence on this Welsh style is our skills coach, Scott Johnson. Scott’s an Australian but he has blended his own methods from his background with the traditional Welsh strengths of handling and passing to produce a very fast, very fluid style of rugby. I think Scott is a revolutionary thinker on the game, someone ahead of his time and it’s vital that Welsh rugby hangs onto him for the future. If he was lured away from us then it would be a massive blow.

We train with the same approach and that means when we play Tests we are not afraid of making mistakes. It’s a style of rugby that requires both good skills and a high level of fitness throughout the team. Every player has to be able to time his running onto the ball, be able to give and take a pass, and have the endurance and stamina to keep doing that up and down the field for the full 80 minutes. In some teams, counter-attacking feels unnatural to the players and they tense up instead of opening their shoulders and really going for their passes. With Wales, there is a fluidity to it all that makes it very effective and hard to defend against.

As regards the future, then I think Wales simply have to carry on playing this way in order to build on our success. We haven’t got the players to win against the major teams by playing a tight, slow-paced game and hope to grind teams down through our forwards. It has to be high tempo and high risk.

In so many of our Grand Slam matches we won because we attacked from deep and got in behind teams. Once we broke their first line of cover then it meant their forwards were not able to make heavy collision tackles on our forwards. Instead, they were having to turn back and scramble. If the opposition isn’t able to make those heavy, aggressive hits then we have the momentum and with our good handling we can keep movements going by passing in contact until we score. It’s simple, really, but not easy to get right. For a start you need players with good hands and big lungs. Each player has to support on the shoulder of the player ahead of him and then be able to use the ball wisely when he gets it. That goes for all the forwards as well as the backs. If you can’t keep up, then you can expect to get a row in the team meetings. No rules. No restrictions. But no hiding places, either.