if I’m billeted with Simon Amor. Very wisely, they agree.
Simon is one of the other kickers and happens to be a mate. We stay in some amazing places and the high spirits on the tour, as it slowly works its way down the country, are boosted by the fact that we pick up win after win en route to Sydney, where we will finish with a schoolboys’ Test.
The journey is further improved when Sparks hitches a lift. Sparks is here playing rugby for some local grade teams, but he soon starts following the tour, as does Duncan White, my mate from Lord Wandsworth, who is over to take up a teaching post.
Generally what happens is that we arrive at a new billet, introduce ourselves to our hosts and quite quickly the conversation turns to the fact that my brother is also here with a friend, trying to follow the tour and looking for a place to stay. Invariably, and very kindly, they extend the invitation to Sparks and Duncan.
At one stage, the tour manager tells me that he doesn’t want Sparks staying with me any more. But we carry on nevertheless, and Sparks becomes so much part of the tour that he hitches rides on the tour bus. One time, we have him hidden under a pile of bags and coats in the middle of the bus, and I’m wondering what the hell the manager is going to think if he turns round and finds him.
We end up just having a huge holiday. In Queensland, we stay with Kris Burton’s parents – I next see him fourteen years later, playing for Italy against England at Twickenham. Farther south, we take part in the most hilarious and physical game of beach ‘touch’ rugby with Alex Sanderson, who doesn’t really do non-contact. An Aussie guy, gamely trying to join in, ends up taking a monster shoulder charge from Sparks and having to be rescued from the waves before he drowns.
The tour, of course, peaks with the Test, in front of 9,000 people at the North Sydney Oval. I play centre – outside James Lofthouse and inside Mike Tindall – against a side captained by Phil Waugh. Their full-back, Ryan Cross, scores two tries, but we are very strong, one of the most successful schoolboy teams England have ever had, and we win 38–20.
Great tour. Huge fun – before my life turns very serious indeed.
FOR my first training session at Newcastle Falcons, I watch from the main bar at the Kingston Park ground, an 18-year-old new arrival sitting at a table with his dad. Outside on the pitch, meanwhile, one of the most élite groups of rugby players in the professional game has gathered.
The list of international players is phenomenal. From England: Tim Stimpson, Tony Underwood, Rob Andrew, Dean Ryan, Garath Archer, John Bentley. From Scotland: Gary Armstrong, Alan Tait, Doddie Weir, Peter Walton, George Graham. From Ireland: Nick Popplewell and Ross Nesdale. And from Samoa, two giants of the game: former All Blacks Inga Tuigamala and Pat Lam.
I had, for a while, been expecting to take up an offer of a place at Durham University, but when Newcastle asked me if I would try going full-time for a year, I needed no second invitation. I got back from Australia, trained hard for a couple of weeks with Sparks and made my way up north, feeling strong,confident, raring to go. And now I sit here, waiting for the ice-breaker with my new international teammates.
The first person I shake hands with is Inga. I don’t know if there could be a better way to start. He greets me with an infectious, ear-to-ear smile and sits down opposite us. Hi, how are you doing? What’s your name? Where are you from? Great to have you here. What an awesome guy.
Next up is Pat Lam. Same thing. And Tony Underwood and Tim Stimpson are not far behind. What a difference that makes. What a start. The selection policy here has clearly placed great emphasis not only on the quality of player but on the quality of person. Among the players, the so-called superstars are, in fact, the most approachable.
And for me, I am now being paid to be a professional rugby player. I am
Simon is one of the other kickers and happens to be a mate. We stay in some amazing places and the high spirits on the tour, as it slowly works its way down the country, are boosted by the fact that we pick up win after win en route to Sydney, where we will finish with a schoolboys’ Test.
The journey is further improved when Sparks hitches a lift. Sparks is here playing rugby for some local grade teams, but he soon starts following the tour, as does Duncan White, my mate from Lord Wandsworth, who is over to take up a teaching post.
Generally what happens is that we arrive at a new billet, introduce ourselves to our hosts and quite quickly the conversation turns to the fact that my brother is also here with a friend, trying to follow the tour and looking for a place to stay. Invariably, and very kindly, they extend the invitation to Sparks and Duncan.
At one stage, the tour manager tells me that he doesn’t want Sparks staying with me any more. But we carry on nevertheless, and Sparks becomes so much part of the tour that he hitches rides on the tour bus. One time, we have him hidden under a pile of bags and coats in the middle of the bus, and I’m wondering what the hell the manager is going to think if he turns round and finds him.
We end up just having a huge holiday. In Queensland, we stay with Kris Burton’s parents – I next see him fourteen years later, playing for Italy against England at Twickenham. Farther south, we take part in the most hilarious and physical game of beach ‘touch’ rugby with Alex Sanderson, who doesn’t really do non-contact. An Aussie guy, gamely trying to join in, ends up taking a monster shoulder charge from Sparks and having to be rescued from the waves before he drowns.
The tour, of course, peaks with the Test, in front of 9,000 people at the North Sydney Oval. I play centre – outside James Lofthouse and inside Mike Tindall – against a side captained by Phil Waugh. Their full-back, Ryan Cross, scores two tries, but we are very strong, one of the most successful schoolboy teams England have ever had, and we win 38–20.
Great tour. Huge fun – before my life turns very serious indeed.
FOR my first training session at Newcastle Falcons, I watch from the main bar at the Kingston Park ground, an 18-year-old new arrival sitting at a table with his dad. Outside on the pitch, meanwhile, one of the most élite groups of rugby players in the professional game has gathered.
The list of international players is phenomenal. From England: Tim Stimpson, Tony Underwood, Rob Andrew, Dean Ryan, Garath Archer, John Bentley. From Scotland: Gary Armstrong, Alan Tait, Doddie Weir, Peter Walton, George Graham. From Ireland: Nick Popplewell and Ross Nesdale. And from Samoa, two giants of the game: former All Blacks Inga Tuigamala and Pat Lam.
I had, for a while, been expecting to take up an offer of a place at Durham University, but when Newcastle asked me if I would try going full-time for a year, I needed no second invitation. I got back from Australia, trained hard for a couple of weeks with Sparks and made my way up north, feeling strong,confident, raring to go. And now I sit here, waiting for the ice-breaker with my new international teammates.
The first person I shake hands with is Inga. I don’t know if there could be a better way to start. He greets me with an infectious, ear-to-ear smile and sits down opposite us. Hi, how are you doing? What’s your name? Where are you from? Great to have you here. What an awesome guy.
Next up is Pat Lam. Same thing. And Tony Underwood and Tim Stimpson are not far behind. What a difference that makes. What a start. The selection policy here has clearly placed great emphasis not only on the quality of player but on the quality of person. Among the players, the so-called superstars are, in fact, the most approachable.
And for me, I am now being paid to be a professional rugby player. I am
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