Bill Beaumont: The Autobiography. Bill Beaumont

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СКАЧАТЬ a lot to learn about our Lancashire rugby culture.

CHAPTER THREE

       Your country needs you

      Touring clearly suited me because I always seem to return from my travels a better player. That probably had something to do with playing in good company, and very often against more demanding opposition. The trip to Zimbabwe and South Africa, from a purely personal point of view, had gone very well and I was ready, on my return, to make a determined effort to break through into the England side, knowing full well that this would probably mean renewing my rivalry with Roger Uttley.

      Tonga paid a visit to the UK during the autumn of 1974 and played against the North at Birkenhead Park just four days before they were due to take on England Under-23s at Twickenham. I was involved in both games, teaming up with Gosforth’s Terry Roberts in a North side that also included my Fylde pals Brian Ashton (who had joined Orrell), Tony Richards and fly-half Ian McDonnell, and I was subsequently included on the replacements’ bench by England.

      As I had already taken Monday and Tuesday off work to play for the North, I telephoned Twickenham to ask if it would be in order if I turned up on the Friday rather than Thursday, on the grounds that I didn’t want to push my luck – family business or not. They said that this was all right but assumed I would be in London in time for the Friday-afternoon training session, so I suspect I wasn’t the most popular guy in town when I actually arrived during the evening, having done a full day’s graft at the factory. My punishment was to be dragged from my warm and comfortable bed very early the following morning to practice line-out work with skipper John Raphael, who was also the hooker. I was such an innocent abroad that I didn’t even possess a tracksuit, so I went through the line-out ploys in the car park clad in a pair of jeans and a sweater, relying on one of the other lads to lend me a tracksuit to wear that afternoon so that I wouldn’t look completely out of place sitting on the bench.

      Twickenham was an entirely new experience for me and I couldn’t get over the size of the dressing room. I was used to the cramped boxes that seemed to be the norm at a lot of clubs so it took some time to adjust to the luxury of space and the sight of rows of individual baths rather than the traditional communal bath. The top players, I decided, as I settled down on the bench to watch the match, were very cosseted. I wasn’t too concerned when Trevor Cheeseman, who was playing at number eight, had to leave the field suffering from concussion early in the second half. Coventry flanker Mai Malik, who later took over Rugby Lions, was the back row replacement so I fully expected him to be sent on to fill the gap. You can imagine my surprise, and delight, when they switched Neil Mantell from the second row and sent me into the fray. In the excitement of it all I forgot the line-out calls that I had been hastily trying to take on board in the car park that morning but I still managed to perform well in that department, helped by scrum-half Steve Smith, who let me know when the ball was coming my way. I was also reasonably busy in the loose in the time remaining, so felt pretty pleased with myself when the final whistle sounded. And I had my first England jersey, albeit not the one I really coveted.

      The important thing was that I was ‘in’. I had been involved in an England team and it was down to me to prove to the selectors that I was worthy of consideration for the senior side. Things are very different today because there is no selection committee, and I am sure that in days gone by deals were done at times rather than the best 15 always being selected. Now responsibility rests with one man, Clive Woodward. In the 1970s, however, England still relied heavily on a series of trials and I found myself picked alongside Roger Uttley in a North side that took on the Midlands at Headingley’s old ground at Kirkstall. Roger was just back from the British Lions tour to South Africa and that was the first time we had appeared together. It looked as though I would be up against Nigel Horton, who jumped at four, because Roger was a recognised front-jumper. But Fran Cotton, who skippered the side, asked Roger to take on Horton and allow me to jump at the front. Roger was already an established international and hardly needed to prove his credentials but it was still a magnanimous gesture when he agreed to the switch without a moment’s hesitation.

      I was quite surprised after the game when the Midlands hooker, Peter Wheeler, walked past and said, ‘Hello Bill.’ I didn’t think he would have a clue who I was so I was chuffed that established players seemed to be aware of me. There was another surprise in store when I told Fran Cotton that I hoped he would have a good Christmas and he responded that he would wish me seasonal greetings the following weekend when we travelled to Twickenham for the final trial. I would, he assured me – and you don’t argue with Fran – definitely be involved in that game. And he was right.

      Roger Uttley and I found ourselves on opposite sides rather than as partners. He was picked to play for England and had been due to partner Chris Ralston, while I packed down alongside Nigel Horton for the Rest, but Nigel was elevated when Ralston pulled out and my new partner was Bob Wilkinson from Bedford. As you only meet up just before the game you are never really sure what the team is going to be and there was no time to work out line-out drills. To give you some indication of what it was like, our skipper – Bristol’s Dave Rollitt, who was a bit of a character to say the least – approached me in the dressing room and enquired, ‘And who the hell are you, may I ask?’ Hardly a vote of confidence when even your skipper hasn’t a clue who you are, but he did add that, since I had been selected for an England trial, I couldn’t be ‘completely useless’. I grew to enjoy Dave’s caustic brand of humour and soon discovered what a good bloke he was.

      I certainly felt a little inadequate and our preparation was such that I had worked out the opposition’s line-out signals long before I had sorted out our own. Hardly surprising then that we went down 38–22 but I wasn’t too disheartened because I had made one or two useful contributions in the game, and I did have the familiar faces of Tony Richards and Steve Smith in the side. Trial games were always difficult games to play in because sides often comprised players who knew little about each other and it wasn’t easy developing an understanding on the field. That’s why I was able to work out the opposition’s line-out signals before our own. Indeed, the games were often such a poor indicator of ability that it wasn’t unusual for experienced internationals to find a convenient injury to avoid having to play in them. Some of the established players took the not unreasonable view that it was better to rely on past reputation rather than subject themselves to trial games – many of which were messy and disjointed affairs.

      It was normal practice to stay down at Twickenham after the final trial for a squad training session and, after Christmas, I was one of 30 players called back for another session. I was really made up just to be there and was determined to shine and prove a bit of a nuisance to the senior players. Conversely, when I was England captain, I just wanted the rest to stop being a nuisance!

      In trials and squad sessions it’s possible to look out for your mates. I remember how Fran Cotton and Mike Burton in scrummaging practice seemed to work a little routine. Fran had been at tight-head with Stack Stevens at loose-head and they swapped over so that Fran was up against Burto. They made it look as though Fran was murdering him, with the result that he was kept at loose-head, which ensured that Burto got in at tight-head. In the end it was all in vain because, before they were due to play for England, Burto was sent off in a county championship game by Alan Welsby, the Lancashire referee – that being the occasion when he bowed to the crowd as he walked off. The result was that Stack returned at loose-head with the versatile Fran moving back across the front row.

      England were due to open their Five Nations Championship campaign against Ireland in Dublin on January 18 and I was starting to take more than a usual interest in the deliberations of the selectors. On the day that I knew the team would be announced, I was on business in London with my uncle Joe, and I bought the first copy of the Evening Standard I spotted as we walked to our hotel. I somewhat feverishly scanned the sports pages and could hardly contain myself when I СКАЧАТЬ