LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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