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  The fact that rugby’s professional rival, rugby league, now had a World Cup was another reason the IRFB opposed the idea. In the sixties the former Australian international Harold Tolhurst and Manly club stalwart Jockey Kelaher suggested finding a world champion by holding a month-long tournament in Australia, with Great Britain, France, South Africa and New Zealand to fight it out with the home side. The IRFB was not amused and refused to sanction it in any way. Even competitions to find national club or regional champions were seen as contrary to the spirit of the game. Until 1968, when South Africa’s Currie Cup became an annual event, only France among the rugby powers held a national championship. New Zealand launched its provincial championship in 1976, but clubs in Britain still played only ‘friendlies’.

  By the early eighties winds of change were threatening to blow down the house of cards of amateur rugby. The debacle of the 1981 rebel Springbok tour of New Zealand, which saw widespread protests against the South African team and the apartheid regime, together with the success of New Zealand’s footballing All Whites in qualifying for the 1982 FIFA World Cup and the continuing loss of Australia’s top rugby union players to rugby league, were all signs of the vulnerability of the sport even in its southern hemisphere strongholds. In response, the Australian and New Zealand unions made separate proposals to the IRFB for a Rugby World Cup.

  Forced to do something, the IRFB asked Australia and New Zealand to come up with a feasibility study. With 1987 the only southern winter free of major sports events for the rest of the decade, there was no time to waste. If a World Cup was not approved at the IRFB’s March 1985 meeting, the concept would once again go on the back burner for years.

  Each of the eight full members of the IRFB – Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales and France – had two votes, so the four home unions would all but have a veto if they stuck together.

  South Africa was the great unknown. The sports boycott made it impossible for the country to play abroad. As always, South African Rugby Board president Danie Craven (an IRFB delegate) thought ahead. He realised that favours granted at no real cost now might well pay dividends later. His decision to support the proposal in effect guaranteed that South Africa would later host a similar tournament – if the first one succeeded and apartheid was relaxed. The wily former Springbok captain thus set the stage for the 1995 World Cup (won, of course, by South Africa at home), which cemented the place of rugby, until then a symbol of Afrikaner supremacy, in the multicultural nation.

  This left France as the power broker. French Rugby President Albert Ferrasse decided to vote for a World Cup provided non-IRFB countries were included. D-Day was 21 March 1985, the venue the headquarters of the French national railway. The delegates were whisked by TGV to a lunchtime cruise on the Rhône. After intense lobbying, the vote was taken back in Paris. Delegates from England and Wales broke ranks with the naysayers and the proposal was passed by a margin of 10–6. A Rugby World Cup would be held in 1987. A body with no paid staff, or even any money to call its own, had just two years to organise rugby’s first global tournament.

  The Rugby World Cup was set to take place in May or June 1987, early in the southern winter but not too long after the completion of Europe’s Five Nations. The organising committee was headed by John Kendall-Carpenter, the Englishman who had voted in favour of the competition in 1985. With South Africa out of the international scene, nine non-IRFB nations would be needed to fill the four four-team pools. Some choices were obvious: Italy, Romania and Argentina all had respectable recent records against the major teams. Canada, USA, Japan, Fiji and Tonga also had a long history of playing the game, and the first three offered lucrative television markets. Minnows Zimbabwe were granted the last place to give southern Africa an interest in the event.

  The IRFB spent a year arguing over the distribution of profits, which were yet to be made. Knowing they had the old guard over a barrel, the host unions held out for the best terms they could get. The deal reached in March 1986 gave Australia and New Zealand all their net gate receipts. They would also share 48 per cent of the income generated by the tournament representatives (the commercial company managing the event). The other unions taking part would share most of the rest. Also agreed at the meeting was the appointment of British sports marketing company West Nally as the tournament representatives. They trumped rival bidders by offering US$5 million upfront for the rights. The Australian insistence on payment in advance was to prove wise – West Nally failed to survive the October 1987 stock market crash.

  Potential sponsors demanded stadiums that were ‘clean’ (free of all other advertising). Because of this and Australian rugby politics, the traditional New South Wales Test venue, the Sydney Cricket Ground, was unavailable. Auckland’s Eden Park would host the final, and both semi-finals would be played in Australia. Brisbane’s Ballymore Oval could readily stage one. The Sydney semi-final was allocated to the small Concord Oval, which the New South Wales Rugby Union was developing as its base. With rugby weak outside these two cities, only one pool would be played in Australia. Eight venues in New Zealand would host the other three pools.

  Sponsors were not secured until shortly before the tournament kicked off. When they were announced, the wisdom of including Japan and the United States was confirmed. KDD, a Japanese telecommunications company, was the main sponsor. The others were Mazda, Rank Xerox and New Zealand Breweries. Commercialism was suddenly everywhere. The name of a beer, Steinlager, was even painted on the small buckets in which sand was carried out to place-kickers. Despite a stern circular from the New Zealand Rugby Football Union (NZRFU), this ruse was repeated in the final. In rugby’s brave new world, even official sponsors were not above a little guerrilla marketing.

  The host television rights were shared by public broadcasters, the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and Television New Zealand. At the last minute, the BBC decided to pay £1 million to cover the tournament. This fee looked excessive, but by the 1991 World Cup it would seem the bargain of the century.

  On the whole the tournament witnessed fairly one-sided matches, the seven IRB members proving too strong for the other teams. Half of the twenty-four matches across the four pools saw one team score forty or more points. Even still, 600,000 spectators came out to watch (an average of 18,900 per match) in addition to a worldwide television audience of 300 million from 17 different countries. With regard to the commercial success, it generated £3.3 million in income with a surplus of somewhere in the region of £1 million.

  Throughout the hasty preparation for 1987, it was considered by the IRB to be a ‘one-off’. (How could they think that? Mind you it does remind me of something . . . oh yes, the first Rugby Tales!) No plans were made for future tournaments until the tournament was over. I suspect now, however, they are pretty pleased with themselves that they decided to give it another go. Evidence of the phenomenal growth of the Rugby World Cup can be demonstrated by the fact that in the space of twenty years the RWC has become the third-largest sporting event in the world, behind only the football equivalent and the Olympics. That’s pretty impressive.

  Before I leave this brief historical run-through, there is one other snippet I’d like to share, something I’ve only found out about recently. It concerns the World Cup whistle.

  It seems that the first game of every World Cup to date has been started by the same whistle. The whistle is over 100 years old and bears an inscription saying it was used by Gil Evans in the Test match between New Zealand and England in December 1905, a match the All Blacks won 15–0.

  This piece of rugby history is also believed to have been used by Albert E. Freethy in the final of the 1924 Olympics in Paris when the United States beat hosts France 17–13 at the Colombes Stadium.

  A year later Freethy blew the whistle to dismiss Cyril Brownlie in the Test between New Zealand and England at Twickenham in January 1925, making him the first player to be sent off in an international match.

  The whist
le has been housed in the New Zealand Rugby Museum in Palmerston North since 16 April 1969 when they held their inaugural function, having been donated by Stan Dean, who for many years was the chairman of the NZRFU and manager of the 1924/25 All Blacks.

  There, now you know.

  Bedroom Farce

  Enough history. It is time we got on to the stories, but just before we do, I’d like to say a big thank you to all the guys who have contributed World Cup tales and memories for this book. I am indebted to you all. As I hear a story occasionally it triggers a memory of my own about a particular incident. I was out with some fellow knackered old rugby players last night, telling a few lies about how great we used to be and generally reminiscing about the good old days when our bodies were stronger. During the evening I was reminded of a story which occurred during the 2007 World Cup. This morning, it made me chuckle again so I thought I would write the ‘short and sweet’ tale and include it here, as a taster of things to come.

  With the 2007 tournament being hosted by France it was relatively easy for the friends and families of players to make the short trip over the Channel and meet up from time to time. Whilst it’s vital for the squad to concentrate on the task in hand, it’s also important to get a break from the continuous training, analysis and general preparation that take place during a World Cup campaign. To spend time with friends and loved ones provides welcome relief from the monotony of the rugby bubble in which players are required to live.

  It was noticeable how many of the players’ wives and girlfriends seemed keen to visit their men when we were staying in the Trianon Palace Hotel in Versailles (now a Waldorf Astoria hotel). Situated about a dozen miles from the heart of Paris and set within magnificent woodlands, it has been described as one of France’s finest luxury retreats, complete with a magnificent spa and an exquisite French restaurant. A far cry from the Marseille Holiday Inn we were to stay in a week later, but I will say more about that later in the book. It is way too early to inflict that story on you just now.

  One late arrival was Mike Catt’s wife Ali (yes, she really is called Ali and if you think about it for a second it’s clear she must have been very much in love with Mike to agree to marry him). Having reached the hotel, Ali was keen to catch up with several of the other partners and decided it was more important for her to go out on the town with them rather than wait for her husband to finish training. The group disappeared into the night and by all accounts had a splendid evening, sampling the local cuisine and drinking as much French wine as they could manage.

  Arriving back at the hotel fully refreshed, the girls entered the lift and pressed level 3, the floor occupied by the majority of the players. It was at this point Ali realised she had no idea which was her husband’s room. So she walked along the corridor hoping there might be a sign or familiar smell to help locate Mike’s room. About halfway along one of the doors was open and inside she spotted a kitbag with the initials MC. With huge relief, she entered the empty room and collapsed into bed.

  I have no idea who was the most shocked fifteen minutes later when Martin Corry entered his room to find Mike Catt’s wife fast asleep in his bed. Ooh là là , as they say in France. I think.

  Right, this time I really am done wittering on. I shall now hand you over (after I’ve had my say, of course) to the wit and wisdom of rugby’s finest. Good luck.

  1987

  I’ve already gone over the birth of the Rugby World Cup in my introduction, but in case you skipped that (and who could blame you) I’ll quickly go over again the set-up for this first step into the unknown.

  Once the decision had been made to proceed it left little more than two years to lay the foundations of a tournament that would finally provide a method to establish a true world champion. The inaugural event was hosted predominantly by New Zealand with Australia acting as co-hosts.

  Argentina were invited to take the place of South Africa – who were excluded from international rugby whilst the system of apartheid remained in place – with other invitations extended to Fiji, Tonga, Japan, Canada, Romania, Zimbabwe, Italy and the United States for the sixteen-team tournament to be held in May and June 1987.

  The teams were split into four pools of four, three of which were based in New Zealand with the other, featuring Australia, hosted in Sydney and Brisbane. The top two nations in each pool progressed to the quarter-finals.

  New Zealand were the favourites to win the tournament and they definitely relished the opportunity to prove they were the dominant force in world rugby. Before the tournament started the All Blacks were told by their coach, Brian Lochore, they were playing for 100 years of New Zealand rugby-playing tradition, because they had been world champions (according to Brian, although it is hard to dispute, I suppose) without the trophy to prove it. No pressure there then.

  The first match was between New Zealand and Italy and took place on 22 May at Eden Park, Auckland. Before the game the All Blacks performed the haka for the first time in a World Cup and with immaculate timing John Kirwan of New Zealand went on to grace this ground-breaking game by scoring one of the best tries ever seen at international level, running almost the entire length of the pitch beating several players in the process. The hosts won the game easily, 70–6, and the victory helped to unite the country which had been somewhat divided by the NZ Cavaliers’ unofficial tour of South Africa in April 1986, breaking the international sporting embargo levied on the South Africans. It’s fair to say there was a degree of apathy towards the tournament in the early stages, but as it progressed it began to capture the imagination of the home supporters and television viewers burning the midnight oil in the northern hemisphere.

  Wales had a convincing 16–3 win over England in their quarter-final in Brisbane, while in New Zealand the All Blacks brushed aside Scotland. Australia and France secured the remaining two berths.

  The semi-finals were in stark contrast to each other. Let’s just say New Zealand beat Wales by 49–6 in a game even more one-sided than the score suggests. The other match proved to be very exciting, thanks largely to the fact that in true Gallic tradition France just kept attacking and attacking, throwing caution to the wind as they ran the ball at every opportunity. Australia came back at them with counterattacks and eventually a wonderful try scored by the French legend Serge Blanco right in the corner of the pitch secured a thrilling 30–24 victory.

  The All Blacks then won the final 29–9 at Eden Park and although France were well beaten, they had shown the southern hemisphere teams they were a major force in world rugby. As for New Zealand, it was a storybook finish confirming their status in the game. I’m sure no one could possibly believe they would not win at least one of the next five tournaments, but that, in my opinion (if not the opinion of New Zealanders), is the beauty of sport. It’s often unpredictable and occasionally produces major upsets.

  One person who is worthy of special mention, playing a key role in the development of rugby union on the world stage, is the late Vernon Pugh QC. Vernon was chairman of the International Rugby Board and Rugby World Cup Ltd. His energy and vision were instrumental in the expansion of the governing body to include ninety-four full members (increased from eight, quite a leap) and also in building the profile of the sport’s showpiece event.

  When you read some of the stories in the 1987 RWC section to follow I am sure you, like me, will be left with the impression that many of the players had no idea at all what to expect, and I’m reasonably confident their respective management teams had even less understanding of what was required. The All Blacks were the only team who prepared to win. The rest were there on tour, on holiday and in some cases just making up the numbers.

  Regardless of the haphazard birth and the stuttering appreciation of most of the participating nations, the Rugby World Cup had arrived and the fun was just beginning.

  Not in the Zone

  When the 1987 Rugby World Cup took place I was fifteen years old and had an interest in the sport, but little more than that.
It’s fair to say the game was nowhere near as high on my list of priorities as it was to become in later years. One of the problems for me was the tournament took place on the other side of the world and at the time I was boarding at Ampleforth College. Nowadays the TV schedulers understand the huge interest shown by the northern hemisphere, which ensures that matches taking place in New Zealand or Australia tend to kick off during the evening, local time, allowing European audiences to view them over breakfast.

  Unfortunately they didn’t have this foresight or knowledge back in 1987 so most of the matches were available to view at 3.00 a.m. in the UK. The chances of my housemaster allowing me to get up in the middle of the night to watch the games were less than zero. By 10.00 p.m. the dormitory doors were locked and bolted, chains securely in place, and it would have taken a fire for them to be opened before the following morning. In fact, anyone who has any knowledge of Ampleforth probably knows they operate in a different time zone from most of England, let alone other parts of the world. If it was 3.00 a.m. in New Zealand it would have been 1953 at Ampleforth. To be honest I’m still getting over the shock of being sent there.

  As for the World Cup, from an English perspective it’s probably just as well that I didn’t catch much of the action. I don’t recall us doing very well, and judging from the stories contributed by lads who participated, I’m not surprised. Organisation, discipline and dedication are three words (and I could mention many more) that didn’t seem to feature on the radar of players or management in those early days. It would appear we got exactly what we deserved. That said, it’s clear that a lot of fun was had as the northern hemisphere teams fell by the wayside.

  Shiver Me Timbers

  Gareth Chilcott

  A firm favourite with the supporters during his playing days, Gareth Chilcott remains just as popular since retirement in his role as host of practically every overseas rugby trip organised by Gullivers Sports Travel in the last twenty years or so. I was fortunate to only play against him on a handful of occasions and I believe I have at least one scar (physical or mental) for every encounter. He was a hard man on the pitch and a gentleman off it. I remember an early game for Wasps against the mighty Bath side of that era. From the kick-off it became clear to me “Cooch” had little regard for the ball or indeed the opposition, he just wanted to impose his will and physical strength on anything dressed in black. As a callow youth of about nineteen years of age it seemed to me that he succeeded on both fronts. John Reason, a superb rugby journalist, once wrote of Cooch, “He looked like a bit part actor playing the role of a Mafia assassin in search of his next victim.” I’m not sure if this is complimentary or not, but having played against him I know exactly what John meant!