Heart and soul

It was while chuckling at something the irrepressible Phil Kearns had said while commentating on the Super 12 that the idea came to me.

It started out as a thought for a good evening and gradually metamorphosed into something along the lines of the reality TV shows that have come to dominate the airwaves.

But back to the original idea. “Phil Kearns,” I said to the crew helping me to live score the Super 12, “would be a great guy to have a beer with and talk about rugby.”

The former Wallaby hooker has a wicked sense of humour and something that especially appeals to me, a well-honed sense of irreverence.

Sometimes I think we take this game too seriously. Kearns seems to understand that when all is said and done it really is only a game. As Willie John McBride once remarked: “Before the game it matters terribly who is going to win and afterwards not at all.”

Isn’t that the way it should be? We must care, we must be passionate, we can even get angry, but it isn’t life and death… we must also be able to laugh.

And then I got to thinking… why just Kearns? Why not a whole group of rugby raconteurs with whom to reminiscence, ruminate and guffaw as only a group of men, with beer in hand, can.

Now such a gathering should not be just about telling amusing stories. One should also talk about deep things… about whether a flyhalf can kick with either foot (remember not both, because he’ll fall on his backside!), about what should be done about the tackle ball law, about catching the tube to Richmond and that walk to Twickenham, about the best beer in the world of rugby… and, oh yes, there was the time…

And then I got to thinking… could one hold such a dinner as a sort of Big Brother banquet with cameras watching secretively and all the participants wired for sound?

How many times have you thought – hell I wish I had a record of last night’s anecdotes?

So who to invite to such an occasion. First up I thought of my own dear friends. Basil Bey to whom rugby is such a cerebral activity; Richard Nurse who is one of the best story-tellers I know; David Williams who loves words as much as I do and finds talking about rugby intellectually stimulating; Hugh Bladen who adores the game and its people and knows all the words of the songs when it gets late; George Parker with his infectious laugh and keen sub-editor’s mind… but that wouldn’t work would it?

TV thrives on celebrities so if a rugby version of Big Brother were to work – perhaps it could be called “Imbibor!” - there would have to be well-known faces.

So who? My list got longer and longer so I limited it to 10; nine guests and myself. This is who I would invite to supper in the hope of ending up with some memorable television.

Phil Kearns. Obviously. He gave rise to the idea. I’d wind him up by asking about his relationship with Francois Pienaar and what went down when Ross Turnbull’s WRC collapsed after the World Cup in ‘95.

Phil would set us off and that would be the cue for Sean Fitzpatrick, my second guest, to join in and tell us about refereeing rugby at the highest level for 12 years!

Next would be Murray Mexted. Straight talker, much traveled and unabashedly honest.

For No4 I’d have Jean-Pierre Rives. The patron saint of the game they play in heaven. An artist and an idealist and what would a long meal and good wine be without a Frenchman to set the tone?

For No5 I’d have Rod Macqueen the Australian coach who will have the role of the rugby academic – because you have to have one. There are other deep thinkers – Bob Dwyer, Ian McGeechan, Laurie Mains and Alan Jones come to mind – but I plumped for Macqueen because he won the most recent World Cup and because he was so secretative.

And now for some spice. No6 would be Louis Luyt. He loves a verbal and mental joust and we could probe that sharp mind of his for some never-before-told stories.

Three to go and who to leave out?

No7 would have to be Gareth Edwards, voted as the player of the century. Bright-eyed, warm and friendly and a fine teller of stories.

And No8 would have to be Willie John McBride. Pipe in hand, a smile darting around his craggy features and a Guinness in his large paw. I’d like to ask him if it’s true that on the ’74 Lions tour he meted out some rough justice to JPR Williams.

And that leaves one. Frik du Preez? Bill McLaren? Morné du Plessis? Fergus Slattery? Colin Meads?

In the end I settled for garrulous Nick Mallett because I know I would be able to get him talking. Penalty five metres out, 20 metres in from touch. You’re four points down in the World Cup Final and the referee says next breakdown ends the game. You have to score a try. How? Hold onto the salt and pepper cellars; watch the glasses and cutlery because Mallett will start to demonstrate a move and use the utensils to show who has to go where.

There may be a few bleeps because, as Willie John says, “I don’t swear but some of my friends do!”, but will it make better TV than some drunken plebs in a Jacuzzi? You be the judge.