The Hardest Test (3 page)

Chapter Seven

A week later, I had the massive honour of being selected by the Barbarians, the famous invite-only team with a tradition for all-out flowing rugby. It was the custom for the Baa-Baas to select some uncapped players, and it was as one of those that I'd originally been chosen. The only snag was that after the Canada appearance I was no longer an uncapped player. I remember resigning myself to the fact that at least I'd earned that Welsh cap – the Baa-Baas could wait for another day. However, I was surprised to receive a call from Baa-Baas' President Micky Steele-Bodger to congratulate me, telling me I'd been selected anyway, as a capped player. It was Neil Back who would be the uncapped representative. Things were just getting better!

The Barbarians were to face New Zealand in Cardiff. All I can say is that when the match kicked off, I kept wanting to pinch myself. It's not every day in rugby you run out against players you really look up to. I was lining up against people like Ian Jones, Va'aiga Tuigamala, Zinzan Brooke! To have the chance at the age of twenty-one to play against these boys was a dream come true.

New Zealand ended up victors 25–12.

Next it was big-time rugby, as I waited for my call-up to play for Wales in the 1994 Five Nations, that most famous of rugby competitions. When you are growing up in the game, this is
the
competition – any player will tell you that. The Tri Nations may have that southern hemisphere glamour, but the Five (later Six) Nations is the real deal. It was magnificent to be a part of it at last.

We played Scotland first and I'll never forget the driving rain that day. Mike Rayer scored two tries as we trounced the Scots 29-6. Then came Ireland, and another win in a game which was soured by my Llanelli team mate badly breaking his jaw.

When France came to Cardiff, next up, we knew we were in for a difficult ride if we were to maintain our winning run. They were bringing with them a wonderful side packed full of class players such as Benazzi, Sella, Benetton and Saint-Andre. They were possibly one of the best sides in the world at the time.

In the first half I managed to steal the ball at the back of the line-out. We were about 40 yards out (though as the years go by and I tell this tale, it's up to about 80!). I barrelled through a few French defenders and before I knew it I was over in the corner for my first try for my country.

I watched it recently on TV and hardly recognised myself as that young lad. What I do recall, and what's clear on watching it again, is the delay before the realisation hits home that I've scored, and my face lights up. I remember Rupert Moon jumping on my back and Phil Davies around me too, all Scarlets together. It was magnificent. I knew where Nicola and my parents were in the crowd and I made eye contact with them. It was the stuff dreams are made of. We went on to win 24–15. We now had to go to Twickenham to take on England for the chance of the Grand Slam.

If the French challenge had been tough, we would now be head to head with the biggest pack in world rugby. Our preparation wasn't ideal. We were late arriving at the Old Stand in Twickers because of traffic congestion. It meant we had less time to prepare and get out there on the field. Then I soon realised what being star-struck really was when faced with players such as Ben Clarke, Dean Richards, Dewi Morris, Will Carling and Jeremy Guscott who I'd watched playing for many years for England and the Lions on TV. It was awe-inspiring stuff.

Unfortunately we went on to lose that day 15–8, but still won the Five Nations Championship on points. Memorably, Ieuan Evans went up to collect Wales's first trophy for many a year.

That summer I was away on a tour of Canada, Western Samoa, Fuji and Tonga with Wales. It was a massive honour to represent my country around the world, but I was also finding it difficult being away from my young family for so long. I came to fully realise what my father must have gone through, leaving Craig and me with my mother to go on tour all those years ago. A day didn't go by when my thoughts weren't with Nicola and Samantha back home in Wales.

On returning home my life was about to take a new twist. The try I'd scored against France was big news. I suppose you could say it put me on the map. That summer the phone didn't stop ringing. Most of the interest seemed to come from up north, from the rugby league clubs.

I was in a bit of a spin. I'd just had the greatest of seasons in rugby union. Perhaps it would be a good time to end on a high. The very thought of changing codes made my heart skip a beat. It would be a massive move not just for me in terms of my career but also for my young family.

Mike Burton, the former England and Lions prop, who would become my future agent and a close family friend, really opened the doors for us in rugby league, advising my father to talk us into going up to speak to Wigan.

Chapter Eight

One Sunday in September my father drove Nicola and myself up to Lancashire. Jack Robinson, the Wigan Chairman, had asked us to wait in the hotel opposite their Central Park ground before the game against Sheffield. He had arranged for one of his directors, Tom Rathbone, to meet us. The idea was that we'd watch Wigan's match that day and have a chat.

We were sitting in the bar on one of the sunniest September days I can recall, surrounded by hundreds of Wigan and Sheffield fans, when in walked a man in a long raincoat, black hat and sunglasses. Nic and I looked at each other; we thought the KGB had just walked in!

As the man approached us, all around Wigan fans were calling him and saying, “Alright Tom?”

He leant in close to me and enquired, “Scott?” To which I nodded. In an instant he removed the hat, glasses as well as the coat to reveal a blazer with the biggest Wigan badge on it you'll ever see.

“Ah, I'm Tom Rathbone. I've been sent to get you,” he said and shook my hand.

We had a few drinks and made our way over to the stadium.

As we walked across the road I was greeted by people saying, “Hi Scott!” and, “How are you, Scott?” It was all pretty comical. In those days, remember, you could be banned from rugby union if you were seen anywhere near a league match. But Wigan's interest in me, it seemed, was hardly a state secret. It made Tom's disguise all the more hilarious. Thank goodness there were no such things as forums and internet chat rooms back then. I wouldn't have been allowed back over the Severn Bridge, let alone home to Llanelli that night!

Jack Robinson met us and showed us round the stadium which has all that wonderful history attached to it. Wigan had just won the world club championship in Brisbane and had a side full of stars. They beat Sheffield that day.

My decision to move north to play rugby league for Wigan was not taken lightly. I had been enjoying my time at Llanelli and had of course developed strong friendships both on and off the field. I'd also reached a pinnacle by pulling on the prized Wales shirt, and it was difficult to contemplate never experiencing that sensation again. I had to come to terms with the realisation that I would be saying goodbye to the game of rugby union forever, because in those days the rules dictated there was no going back once the codes had been crossed. I knew as well I'd have to deal with those who I'll politely call the “traditionalists” who would perceive me as a traitor for moving up north.

But at the end of the day I had to think about Nicola and Samantha who had seen their time with me shrink as my career grew. The move to Wigan meant that instead of spending most of my time outside of rugby working to support my family I was at last able to split my life between rugby and family.

I went up to Wigan alone initially, basing myself in a hotel, though Nicola made frequent visits and we house-hunted together.

I soon began training with the lads at Central Park. It was quite tough being alone, but the training programme took so much out of me, I don't think I'd have been much company anyway. It was a major step up from what I was used to at Llanelli. As well as having to learn the ropes in a different game, my new employers required me to increase my seventeen-stone frame by another two stone. My first few weeks were spent performing five sessions on the weights (whereas I'd been used to two), eating to refuel, and soaking the aches and pains away in the bath.

Learning to run at speed backwards for the first time in my career was a bit of a challenge, too. It's not as easy as it sounds!

When Nicola and Sam moved up, the first few months in Wigan were pretty strange for us as a family. Just being away from Llanelli was difficult. We were used to having our parents nearby to help out with things like babysitting and there had always been friends around. However Joe Lydon, a league legend, was just coming to the end of his career with Wigan, and he and his wife Nicola took it upon themselves to help us settle in. For this we'll be eternally grateful.

The people of Wigan really live and breathe their rugby, so in this sense it was very similar to Llanelli. If we lost a match at the weekend it would be the topic of conversation and debate in the town for the rest of the week. Their passion for sport helped me feel very much at home, I guess.

I became friendly with two more of Wigan's recent signings, Barry McDermott and Terry O'Connor. Even though we were all competing for similar positions, we supported each other, training hard and generally enjoying each other's company.

Wigan's success meant it was difficult to break into the first team, but it was very much a squad environment. It didn't matter if you played in the first thirteen or for the reserves – everyone seemed to get along.

I'll never forget my first game against Salford. I was picked for the seconds after being at Wigan for what seemed a very short six weeks.

The plan was to give me a run-out in the last ten minutes to acclimatise to the game and the rules. But our second row tore a hamstring after fifteen minutes and my gentle introduction to league went completely out of the window.

I recall taking the ball up for the first time, after being on for about a minute, and being hit by what must have been about ten to fifteen big forearms. Looking up from the ground, with blood gushing from my nose, I was confronted with the grinning face of Richard Webster, the former Swansea player and another to have crossed codes, who said simply, “Welcome to rugby league.”

Call me mad, but I actually enjoyed the experience. I think it put me in good stead for my time up north.

Chapter Nine

It was a midweek fixture away at Doncaster which brought about my full first team debut.

It was hard to believe I was lining up at second row in the same side as Andy Farrell, Dennis Betts, Martin Offiah and Jason Robinson – true legends of the game!

I lasted about five minutes. Perhaps the occasion was all too much for me, or I clumsily ran into the elbow of an opposition player! Either way, I soon found myself dazed on the ground after being hit once, getting up and playing the ball the wrong way, and collapsing again. The next thing I knew I was at the side of the pitch in the arms of the physio who was busily attending to my broken nose.

At half time Wigan coach Graham West came to see how I was doing, which I thought was very kind of him. Groggily I told him I was feeling a little better and that at least my nose had stopped bleeding. “Great,” he said. “Get back on for the second half.”

That's the difference in the two games: in rugby union the bang on the head would have sidelined me for three weeks by law. Here, I found myself back on the field before I knew it, even though I felt like I'd been run over by a bus. It was certainly a test of character.

I don't know if the Doncaster boys had a pot on me that day, but, like the Furnace boys before them, they too would have walked away frustrated and out of pocket. Even though playing on wasn't my choice this time!

Later that season I was asked by Wales rugby league boss, Clive Griffiths, to attend a training session and later to watch the forthcoming international against Australia. The Welsh team that day featured the likes of Allan Bateman, Dai Young, Rowland Phillips and Paul Moriarty – players I was already familiar with. If I had any doubts about the physicality of league, this game was to well and truly get rid of them.

You could almost feel the big hits from where you sat. As a measure of the sheer brutality of the match, John Devereaux got taken off with a broken jaw. But if any one thing stood out for me that day it was the performance of the colossal Mal Meninga. What a player – he had the sublime skills to match his sheer force. If he represented rugby league at its best, I knew I had my work cut out!

I have lots of great memories of my time at Wigan. I got the call to represent Wales rugby league at the 1995 World Cup. We had one particularly brutal encounter against Samoa at the Vetch, Swansea. The game had to be delayed because of the massive crowds – many people had to be locked out. As you can imagine, the atmosphere was electric. Samoa were so physical that if you gave less than 100% commitment, you could be sure not to last the eighty minutes in one piece. I'll never forget Allan Bateman desperately looking through the grass for his tooth after one big hit. We won that day but unfortunately lost to England in the semi-final. I scored four tries against arch rivals St Helens on Boxing Day 1995.

Leaving Wigan was tough. We'd been made to feel at home there as a family and I'd developed a great affection for its passionate and knowledgeable rugby fans. But the word had come from Mike Burton (who was now my agent) that Richmond were interested. The rules on players crossing codes had been relaxed, allowing me to move back to union. Jack Robinson, the Wigan chairman, said he'd be sad to see me go, but honestly admitted Richmond's offer was a good one for Wigan as well as for me.

To make my decision even more difficult, I'd just been selected for the preliminary Great Britain rugby league squad to tour Australia – a massive opportunity. The ultimate for any British league player. A lot to give up.

But on the plus side, the British Lions Union Team were due to tour South Africa in 1996. Making the move back to union now would give me a good opportunity to work towards that goal. If I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps and become a Lion, it was now or never.

Saying goodbye to Wigan we found ourselves once again leaving friends and a real support network behind. Wigan and its people had been good to us.

Finding ourselves in Richmond, in the “big city”, had an instant negative effect on both Nic and me. It was a difficult place to live. We were small-town people at heart. We found London very cold and impersonal.

The move down to Richmond coincided with the birth of our second child, Lucy. For Nicola it was a difficult pregnancy. A caesarean was required. I'll never forget the doctor offering to bring the birth forward to allow me valuable time to be with them before I had to travel to Scotland for a match. He later asked for free tickets and I duly obliged. A small price to pay for what he'd done.

Richmond were a second division side, but were desperate to succeed in the premiership, and had made a number of big signings in the process.

Whilst there, I was soon joined by many familiar faces – Allan Bateman, Barry Williams, John Davies and my brother Craig all signed up. It became a bit of a joke that we were turning into Richmond Welsh!

It should have been a great time. I always thrived on having familiar faces around me. But in reality I spent the first few months wishing I'd never made the move.

One of the key factors was playing in the second division. Yes, it was a new challenge for me but I was used to big crowds at Llanelli, Wigan and for Wales, and missed this at Richmond. Also, the club's big spending meant that our star-studded team was expected to win comfortably each week. I had always thrived on the buzz of a good battle. Sadly, these were few and far between and it was difficult to remain motivated. I'd worked hard to get where I was in the game. This ethos had helped me through the tough times. Now at Richmond I felt like I was going through the motions. It left me increasingly disillusioned, depressed and unhappy.

Richmond were eventually promoted to the Premiership, which was great, but the magic of the game was no longer there for me.

I'm eternally grateful that Richmond came calling for me when they did. They allowed me the opportunity to get back into rugby union. But by this time I'd had enough. I would soon be getting a call of a different kind, back home.