The Hardest Test (2 page)

Chapter Four

By the time I was seventeen I had more or less given up going to school. My time now was split between rugby and working for my dad as a representative in the family company. But somehow my father managed to persuade Graig headmaster Dennis Jones to allow me to stay enrolled in school. I had to re-sit maths in order to remain eligible to compete for a Wales Under 18 cap as well as work part-time for Dad. The re-sit was a minor diversion, keeping me in school longer than I'd anticipated – but I was prepared to do anything to pull on that Welsh jersey! I'd turn up at Graig in my Escort 1.4 company car (yes, I was a boy racer too!) wearing my school tie and leave later having changed into my work clothes and tie.

That Welsh U18 trial soon came around. It was held at Aberavon's Talbot Athletic Ground and was a huge moment in my life. I began the match in the “possibles” team, the mission being to play my way into “probables” for the second half. I was really determined to take this opportunity to show what I could offer. And sure enough, at half time, I was told to change sides for the rest of the game and to carry on where I'd left off, this time in the colours of the “probables”.

Next it was back into the clubhouse for sausage and chips and the longest two-hour wait of my life. When the announcement finally came and my name was read out, it was like all my Christmases and birthdays had come at once. I was to pull on the cherished Welsh jersey against the Scots.

Memorably, I played for the Welsh Under 18s team against the Welsh Youth at Stradey Park. It was not memorable because we beat our senior opponents, but because the Youth team that day contained a certain Neil Jenkins and Scott Gibbs. That result would supply valuable ammunition for the future!

Then I was off to New Zealand with the school team, where we became one of the few sides (junior or senior) ever to win all six tour matches. This was no mean feat in the land where they live and breathe rugby almost as much as we Welsh!

The fact that I went on to miss my final maths exam, because I was conducting a different kind of maths involving my father's company and a business deal in Swansea, shows where my priorities now lay. I was chasing a different dream entirely! I didn't have time to feel that bad.

Not that my father had gained a top class employee. Working for him showed how my learning difficulties affected my life in the real world, as it had done at school. All employees were required to fill out call sheets and time sheets. When it was time for mine to be given in, I usually made some excuse, like I'd left them in the back of the car. My father's secretary Sue was probably the only reason I managed to keep on top of things. She would help me fill out the order forms at the end of each day and make sure everything was in order.

The highlight of my time with the Welsh Youth came in a match against England in Blackpool, where I somehow managed to score four tries in a big win. On the opposite side that day was one Lawrence Dallaglio. Thinking back, I wish I'd made a bit more of that victory. Managing to get one over on ‘Lol' in a Welsh jersey only happened on one other occasion, on a famous sunny day in 1999 – but more of that later. I guess I peaked too early!

1990 was a very busy year for me. I represented Wales in Canada at Under 19 level and played for Wales at Youth level.

Then came my big chance. Llanelli were looking for youth players to join members of the first and second teams to play away at Penygroes in their centenary match.

I was given the nod. I cannot describe how great it felt to pull on the jersey for Llanelli for the first time. Remember, I had turned down an invitation to play league at St Helens just for this moment. I was following in my father's footsteps and representing the place that I loved. I really don't remember who won that day, but it didn't matter. I had worn that famous scarlet jersey. I prayed that this was to be the first of many occasions that I'd have that honour.

Chapter Five

The following season, 1991/92, brought with it another big opportunity. Llanelli's success domestically meant a number of our big name players, such as Lawrence Delaney, Phil May, Phil Davies, Emyr Lewis, Rupert Moon and Tony Copsey, would be away serving Wales in the World Cup. I was invited up to the first team. This was it. It was the massive opportunity that I'd been waiting for.

As well as myself, players such as Paul Jones, Huw Harries and Matthew Wintle, who had toured Canada with me at Wales Youth level, were also called up. On top of that, Allan Lewis, who was now coaching at Llanelli as Gareth Jenkins's no. 2, had been our coach at Wales Under 19s level. This all meant that even though I was moving on to a new, massive challenge, I had people around me I was familiar with. This helped a lot.

In the October of 1991 I met my future wife Nicola in a Llanelli pub one evening. I knew instantly she was the one. I recall very early in the relationship being on Llanelli beach together when Nicola began showing me over and over the correct way to pass a rugby ball (her dad Bryn coached Bynea Rugby at the time). I was bemused but said nothing.

A few days later she rang me after seeing my picture in the local paper. In one of the most surreal conversations I've ever had, she told me, “You play rugby for Llanelli!” To which I replied, “I know. Where do you think I go every Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday?” She said, “Oh well, I thought you just worked out in the gym like my brothers!” That's what I love about Nicola – she's never really been a rugby fan. She used to watch me play firstly for the social life and secondly to see that I didn't get hurt. It was a good thing I always drove home!

We soon moved in together and it was not long before we had our first child, Samantha. It was a wonderful time, like a whirlwind: I didn't want it to stop. I was still working for my father, which helped make ends meet in those pre-professional days but between that and training and playing at the weekend, I found I had little time left to spend with my new family.

I'll always remember seeing my first live Cup

Final. It was 1985 and Gary Pearce converted a late drop goal to beat Cardiff and win the Cup for Llanelli. It sent real shivers down my spine. The whole of Llanelli seemed to be in Cardiff that day and being there was superb.

And to think that by the end of that busy 91/92 season, I myself was lining up in a Cup Final singing the National Anthem along with players such as Phil May, Ieuan Evans, Rupert Moon, Mark Perigo and Ricky Evans!

What a moment it was, knowing my friends and family were there in that massive crowd. We went on to defeat deadly rivals Swansea 16–7 that day, which topped things off nicely!

You often hear of sports men and women having superstitions when preparing for a game. For instance, they may put their kit on in a certain order or listen to a certain song to get “psyched-up”. It was around the time of that Cup Final that my lucky underpants entered my life.

I had worn these pants when playing all season. I'd developed a close bond with them, so much so that the thought of appearing in a match without them was unbearable.

On the day of the final my wife Nicola, mother, father and brother Craig had gone down to Stradey to catch the bus to Cardiff, as is the tradition for our supporters.

I was left at home to finalise my preparation and pack ready for the big match. I loaded my kit-bag as usual, but to my horror my lucky pants were nowhere to be seen! I decided quickly that either my father or Craig must have put them on. I rushed down to Stradey with a spare pair to catch the bus before it left. Luckily it was still there, so I boarded and demanded to see what pants they were wearing. It turned out to be Craig who was the villain of the piece. I quickly made him change into the spare pair and headed off to the final safe in the knowledge my lucky charm was in my bag. I'm certain we would have lost that day otherwise!

Playing rugby regularly for my beloved Llanelli in the shadows of the same saucepans on top of the posts that had beckoned my father was a great feeling. Even if the journey distance was much the same to Stradey Park as it had been to Graig (they are barely a mile apart), emotionally and psychologically I had come a long way.

Dad was always around, ready to give me advice on the game and I was never short of role models to look up to in the shape of his former colleagues and team mates who'd become close family friends over the years.

Being born into what's been called a “rugby dynasty” (a term that makes me cringe) didn't automatically mean my transition into the game was easy. As rugby became increasingly part of my life I quickly learnt that having a name like Quinnell had its negative aspects as well as positive ones.

Some people liked to assume I was only in the Llanelli side because of my name. I sometimes got into scrapes of an evening in town after a match and a couple of pints. After all, I was still a teenager at this time. And I'd be the first to admit I wasn't always in the right. But you're always going to have that in a small town, I guess. I was a big boy, too, and there are always people who want to have a pop to prove a point. But I learnt to avoid certain situations and environments. I began to realise that I needed to sacrifice some things in my life to get on in the game. Fortunately Nicola proved to be a calming influence on me too. We met at the right time.

It was a similar story on the field. I recall one cup match, when we were due to play Furnace United. Sometime the day before one of the boys had heard that the Furnace players had each put £10 in a pot to be taken by the first man who could get me off the field (presumably on a stretcher) in the game. I was used to the fact that I was becoming something of a scalp, but found this particularly underhanded and decided that even though I was tired (I'd played the night before for Wales Schools against France) I would now definitely play a full game. There was no way on earth I'd leave the field and give anyone the satisfaction (and the £150 quid!). Needless to say, the match was a bloody affair and when the ref blew up I was exhausted, black and blue but more than happy to have lasted the eighty minutes.

The Furnace boys were understandably a bit miffed and not entirely pleased when on our way back through the tunnel I suggested that, having lasted out, the money in the pot was rightfully mine! Of course, I didn't see any of it.

Chapter Six

If the 91/92 season had been a dream start for me, getting first team rugby with Llanelli and picking up a cup-winner's medal, the season which followed could not have been more of a contrast.

In the October of '92 I picked up a knee injury early on in a match against Pontypool. Unfortunately, through total inexperience, I chose to play on. I came off after the game in great pain, struggling with an extremely swollen knee. Little did I know that this was the start of a long-term knee problem which would ultimately bring about the end of my career.

I struggled on for a few weeks until eventually I was advised to take a little break to rest the knee. This gave Nicola the ideal chance to make an honest man of me.

In September, we ran away to Scotland to get married (with the permission of both families!). It was a very basic ceremony and a quiet affair all round. Nic still reminds me to this day that our wedding lunch consisted of a pasty and a can of Diet Coke each!

I arrived back home happily married, but my bitter-sweet year was far from over. My knee was worse than ever. I don't think I realised at the time the seriousness of the knock. My career could have ended right there. I had badly damaged a posterior cruciate ligament, no minor bump! I was told I needed to fully rest it for two to three months.

What I did realise all too well was that it would be an uphill struggle to get my first team place back. Llanelli had players such as Lyn Jones, Mark Perigo and Emyr Lewis, all seasoned internationals, in the back row. It was going to be tough.

14 November 1992, saw one of those great moments in Llanelli Rugby's history. The mighty Wallabies, reigning World Cup Champions, arrived at Stradey Park on tour.

In a legendary encounter, Ieuan Evans scored under the posts and Llanelli went on to win the match 13–9. I was in the crowd that day, still nursing that knee. I watched as the pitch was invaded at the final whistle and Rupert Moon was carried aloft by the fans as Delme Thomas had been twenty years before. As a supporter I was delighted but I was also gutted. The realisation that I could have been there on the field that day took the shine off it for me. Nevertheless I was immensely proud of the boys. Little Llanelli had taken on world-beaters again and won. It was a result in the same mould as Llanelli's legendary 9–3 win over New Zealand in 1972. As in '72, the pubs once again ran dry and it was a chance for another generation to say “I was there”, even if they weren't!

To cap a frustrating year for me (though not for the club), I also sat out the Cup Final against Neath. I had played a little, to test the knee, but I was nowhere near fully fit. I was on the bench to watch an improbable drop goal from Emyr Lewis in the dying moments win us another trophy. It was great to be part of a successful squad but, as I've said, I'm not really one for
watching
the game. I really felt I was missing out big time.

I spent that summer working hard with Peter Herbert, Llanelli's fitness advisor. As well as getting the knee back in shape, I also had to work on my weight. It was like my Welsh youth trial days all over again. I didn't want to miss my opportunity to get back into playing for Llanelli when it came around.

That summer I also got a surprise visit from Mike Ruddock, then coach of Swansea. I was flattered when he asked me if I'd consider signing for them for the following season. I explained to Mike that my only aim at that moment was to break back into the Llanelli starting fifteen. After all, I was a Llanelli boy – I'd supported them all my life. I thanked him all the same and he respected my decision. It was a compliment, much like that from St Helens earlier in my career, which made me even more determined to push on and prove myself. Thankfully, the following season would prove to be the best of my career.

After returning to full fitness, the following term saw me regain my place in the Llanelli side. Coach Gareth Jenkins favoured a rotational system during early season, which allowed me, along with the rest of the back row, to get our fair share of game time.

Fortunately I seemed to show enough ability to be selected to play two matches for Wales A that autumn, one against the North (Wales) and one against Japan. Stuart Davies picked up a knock around this time, which was to rule him out for the first team's next game against Canada. I really felt for Stu – he's a great guy – but his injury left a big opening for me; one which I had to take.

I was called up to Sophia Gardens in Cardiff the weekend before the Canada game to train with the first team. I'd played a bit at No. 6 with Llanelli, rotating with Emyr Lewis between that and the No. 8 position. It was there, at blind side, where I was selected to make my full Welsh debut against Canada the following week. The only time I've played in that position for Wales. Heck, I didn't care what position I was picked at. I'd even have played at prop!

When the team was made public I was overwhelmed by all the cards and telegrams from well-wishers, family and friends. Today I guess it would be all e-mails and text messages. It was incredible, a humbling experience. Thinking back, this was the culmination of a lot of things in my life. I'd practically dropped out of school with only my rugby to keep me afloat. Of course I had also been fortunate. I had a young family to support and that knee injury could easily have ended my career before it even got started. But reaching this point was proof for me that I had made something of myself. I'd trained hard and worked at my game, particularly in coming back from injury. In the words of Thomas Jefferson, “I'm a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work, the more I have of it.” (You've even got me quoting US presidents!)

This was it; I was being rewarded for my efforts in something at last. It was a wonderful experience to run out at Cardiff Arms Park in the Welsh jersey that day, even if it was green – it was the three feathers on my chest which mattered. I'd been brought up alongside my father's proud collection of Wales jerseys. Now I had one of my own.

Unfortunately it wasn't one of Wales's better days at the office. We lost 26–24. To add insult to injury, it was Canada's outside half, Gareth Rees, of Welsh heritage, kicking the winning points. But, for obvious reasons, despite the result, that game will always have a special place in my heart.