Rugby: Where ellipsoid dreams came from
I used to have a cuddly toy called Gareth, named after the Welsh scrum half Gareth Edwards.
He was decked out in the welsh kit, wearing rugby shoes and picked up all the smells of the day.
Like all cuddly toys, Gar was totemic. I may have projected some of my earliest motivations on Gar, even though he stayed resolutely on top of the cupboard. Except for the time he accompanied us to the Llanneli v New Zealand game, which I attended, some time in the late 1970s.
Mini rugby on Sunday mornings, where my dad was a coach, became the familiar ritual for my brother and me and we couldn't wait for it to come around. We waited for the church bells to chime before we could jump out of bed and start fiddling with our studs and a jar of margarine (for the grooves) then go and cut loose with our energy in the dewy fields.
I’d long forgotten about Gar. Just as I’d forgotten about the French Number 14 rugby jersey, which has lain dormant in my wardrobe. Until the other day, when, not having much else to wear, I fished it out.
The odour, disquietingly, belonged to another man because it was given to me by my brother, exchanged between England's opponents at the end of the Six Nations (then Five) at Stade de France, which turned out to be Le Crunch game for the Grand Slam (England lost 17-24).
The jersey held significance for me because I believed it belonged to my favourite player, the dazzling and mercurial winger Christophe Dominici. I remembered watching in awe as Dominici took apart the New Zealand defence in the 1999 world cup semi final, despite playing opposite Jonah Lomu.
Years later, Dominici took his own life at the age of 48. He jumped from the roof of a disused building in Saint Cloud, just outside Paris. It got me thinking about just how common mental health issues are in professional sport. Or perhaps it’s just a reflection of wider society. Except it’s more in the spotlight when sports stars ‘come out’ with a mental health issue, like depression. The need for total commitment and momentum can often mask the disturbing nature of negative mental health, which is always so lonely, isolating and by its nature, shaming.
Professional sport must be one of the arenas in which it’s possible to hide behind a wall of illusion and high achievement. When sportsmen and women are striving for something, they don’t have to think about what’s in the basement and so don’t have to face it.
Another way of looking at this, is that professional sportsmen/women are not encouraged to reflect on detrimental thought patterns. It would be really interesting to learn if this were true of the winning World Cup women's rugby team. It was obvious when catching glimpses of the recent World Cup coverage, how much the women took away from playing with each other. They were playful on and off the field but just as disciplined as the men (and why wouldn't they be?). And they enjoyed each other's company.
I believe our goal orientated society is set up perfectly to embed the individualistic approach; and to a win-at-all costs reward system, where self sacrifice is a necessary prerequisite for success. This is very different from self amelioration, which is based on improvement in all aspects of life, where to take care of one aspect, is to take care of another and another and so forth. I think the true measure of success should be how many of the world cup winning women will develop and grow on and off the field, as a result of their success on it. And how many will display mental health difficulties in ten years time.
This week, I listened to a radio interview with Sir Bradley Wiggins. He said his Olympic Gold medal meant nothing to him in the light of everything that has happened since and the battle with mental health issues he has experienced. Talking about his children, he said the things that made him proud of them, was the social skills they have acquired, compared to himself at a similar age and how balanced they were.
With more and more sports men and women (although interestingly not yet in the world of rugby) being diagnosed with neurodiversity, I've considered whether the quest for excellence is actually just a quest to feel normal, in many cases. Is releasing the handbrake that holds these sportsmen back in day to day life, a kind of redemption? This is a big question which belongs in a separate blog, so i won't go in to it too much here.
It turned out that I was wrong about Dominici.The jersey belonged to the other French wing Bernat Salles, another free ranging attacker, who seemed unencumbered on the field…But the thought train was already in motion.
The French game, certainly in the amatuer era, even for a team sport in the 90s, felt like it was built for self expression. I played number 14 and 11 for a year, while living in France, for the National 3 team, Bois De Vincennes and I loved the way the wingers and fullbacks interchanged. It meant you could run from deep instead of just kicking the ball away into touch.
It’s also no coincidence, I now realise, that many of my favourite players were similarly free ranging, Serge Blanco, the French full back, Philippe Sella and Jean Piere Reeves (although he was an open side flanker). I think I identified more with these players because they didn’t fit the mould. They were unpredictable and didn’t play to type. Commentators often referred to them as ‘artists’ on the field. But what resonated with me most, was that they always looked like they were enjoying themselves on the pitch. They were in the moment. It’s not that they were smiling. They just played without fear and without the shackles of everyday concerns. Just like a child.
Prior to living in France, I played for the Spanish University side Complutense in Madrid. We played on bone dry pitches, which tore chunks of skin out of our legs. For a Premiership side, our coach, who was a Kiwi, was frustrated at our lack of success. He even drafted in a psychologist, who failed to convince players to turn up for training whenever it rained. I had a pair of plastic stud adidas boots, which I loved and were ideal for the surface and which crucially, didn’t give you blisters.
In team sports there is a collective spirit which pervades through the team. Being English born and bred and fairly self discplined through my running, I couldn't understand why a bit of rain would prevent players from training. As it was an amateur game, all I could think was, there must have been too many better things to be doing. I think that the unspoken message which pervaded through the team, who kept on losing, despite a lively team spirit, was 'it's only a game.' So did we enjoy playing? Hell yes!
So far, both my son and daughter are oblivious to the benefits of team sports. But I'm quite happy for there to be no Ellie Kildunne mascot to sit alongside Gar for company on the wardrobe. I'm more than happy for them to get their motivation from their family and friends and maybe one day, their teammates, some of whom, if they're lucky, may become mentors. In my view, success in one area of life is not the mark of a successful life, nor of a life well lived. I wonder if Gar would agree?