Raging Bull: My Autobiography. Phil Vickery
however baffled by events, you knew that if you put in the effort and produced the goods Clive would be there to support you.
The game that I was drafted into the squad for was against France in Paris. I was told that I would be sitting on the bench. I was absolutely terrified. I spent the whole time hoping to God that I wouldn’t have to go on to the pitch. I know that might sound odd, but remember, these were the days when if you were on the bench nobody really communicated with you, so I had no idea what was going on out there. I didn’t even know what the lineout calls were. The idea of running onto the pitch in Paris to play against France in my first match for England, and not having a clue what anyone was doing or what their calls meant, was quite terrifying. I was happier just sitting out the match on the bench…
Things have changed a great deal during my time with England, and one of the things that has changed enormously is the relationship between the bench players and the first XV. You feel as if you’re very much part of the team when you’re on the bench now, but back then it was as if you didn’t exist. I suppose the crucial difference is that now when you’re on the bench there’s every chance you’re going to get on to the field, whereas in the past you only went on to the field if there was an injury to someone, so it was less likely that you would be involved in the game. Today, bench players are absolutely vital because they are the players you bring on at crucial times in the game. Why would you ever put on a player who didn’t even know the lineout calls? It seems ridiculous, looking back, but when I started, rugby was a very different game to the one played now. I’m not that old but it sometimes feels as if I played in two different sports - before and after professionalism had fully kicked in.
So, there I was, back in 1998, at a time when the England front five was very Leicester orientated, the only person in the squad from Gloucester, still recovering from the most terrifying training session I’d ever encountered, still bruised from when my now room-mate had punched me, sitting on the bench for England versus France with 80,000 people screaming at the pitch. I didn’t know any of the moves and I didn’t know the lineout calls. Please don’t let me on the pitch, please don’t let me on the pitch, I thought as play commenced. Happily, I didn’t have to go on. Even today I think it’s hard to come off the bench, with little warning, and give your best performance, especially if it’s your first game and you have no idea what to expect when you get out there. From my point of view, I know I’ve never prayed so hard for anything as I prayed for Clive Woodward not to send me on to the pitch on that day in Paris. We lost the match, unfortunately, but the good news was that I was selected to play against Wales at Twickenham the following weekend. Not on the bench - on the pitch.
I arrived at the Petersham Hotel a week before the game against Wales (it was slightly easier this time - at least I knew where the hotel was) and met up with the other players. We had a training session on the Monday which nearly killed me again, and once again I vowed to lose weight when I saw my scarlet face in the mirror. On the Tuesday there was a big press conference at the hotel. All the journalists had come to hear the announcement of the team, then interview the players. I’d been warned that, as the new boy, everyone would want to interview me, but I hadn’t realised just how excitable it would all become. I walked into the press room, after the team had been announced, and was immediately grabbed by journalists. It was fine, they just wanted to know how I felt and what I expected from the game, which Welsh players I was looking forward to coming up against… things like that. I have never had a problem with the press but I did find it hard when I first had to do it because it is one thing that you are not prepared for.
Another thing you’re not prepared for is all the attention you get. People calling me to see how I was, asking for tickets, giving me advice and suggesting popping in to see me after the match… I learnt very quickly that all the attention can be distracting and draining. If you’re not careful you can lose so much of your energy doing things other than rugby. I could have charged around trying to find tickets for people, replying to emails and doing every interview request made of me, but that would have used energy that I had to reserve for the match.
A lot of people asked me if I found it stressful in the lead up to the match. I don’t think that ‘stressful’ is the right word to describe how I felt, because I have always been quite good at separating myself from the anxieties surrounding a match. I had found it difficult in Paris because I hadn’t felt properly prepared, but usually I tell myself that it’s just a piece of grass. It’s the same size piece of grass as you play on every week. There’ll be fifteen blokes one side, fifteen blokes on the other side. You do this week in week out, and just because everyone is making a fuss about it doesn’t mean anything will be different when you’re on that piece of grass.
You lose too much energy if you stress about things. The truth of the matter is that you have been selected because people believe that you are good enough to be out there, and if you’re worried about it then the fear is in your head. You wouldn’t be in the team if they were concerned about your ability. Now you have to get the confidence and believe you can do it, and go out there and do what everyone believes you are capable of doing. I know I’m making it sound simpler than it is, but you do have to have a train of thought like this to survive.
There were so many new things to get used to in the week leading up to a game… new calls in the lineouts, not being familiar with the other players, different coaching styles. John Mitchell nearly killed me in his training sessions. I’m sure I must have gone green in every one of them. It was awful. But the game was so much faster that you needed to be much fitter than you had to be to play the club game.
The night before the match I managed to sleep a little by taking a sleeping tablet. I tend to have to do that before a big game because I’m a bit of a worrier. At 2 a.m. in the morning I’ll be pacing around, reminding myself about the moves, the calls, and wondering how I’m going to pay the mortgage. Sleeping pills knock me out and ensure that I get the good night’s sleep that is essential if you’re going to play well at international level.
The thing I remember most clearly about the next morning and, indeed, the week leading up to the game is the number of letters, faxes, telegrams and emails that poured into the Petersham Hotel for me. Loads of people had taken the trouble to contact me, including Mike Teague, the former England player who’d been such a stalwart for Gloucester. I really cherished those letters and I’ll take the opportunity now to say an enormous thank you to everyone who took the trouble to send them. I was really touched by notes from guys I knew at Bude and Redruth. It’s difficult to get in contact with people to thank them at the time because there’s so much going on, but it was humbling to get all those notes from people and I’m very grateful.
I suppose I didn’t really know what a massive thing it was to play international rugby until I saw the letters and faxes and the interest caused by my selection. It just hadn’t ever been this big dream of mine to get to the top of rugby, like it is for so many people. I was always the sort of guy who just concentrated on the game he was playing.
We made the short journey to Twickenham by coach, then headed into the changing room. My most enduring memory is of walking out of the tunnel; that was amazing. I came out onto the pitch when we first arrived and saw there were just a few people in the stands, then I went out to the team warm-up twenty minutes later and it was half full. I didn’t go back out again after that, I stayed in the changing room and got myself taped up while some of the others went out to throw the ball around, so when I went out for the start of the game, just fifteen minutes later, it was packed in the stadium. It seemed astonishing that so many people had packed into the place in just a few minutes.
People talk about the noise when you run out of the tunnel, and it is truly amazing… like a wall of sound that hits you as you run onto the pitch. Then there’s the singing of the national anthem, which is such a highlight for me. I love it - there’s sound, a loud, roaring noise, then suddenly you’ll catch the words being sung and it all becomes so poignant.
I was given a great bit of advice in the lead up to the match that has stayed with me. Jason Leonard came over to me, looked me in the eye, and said, ‘Make sure you enjoy what you’re doing and live in the minute. It’ll go so quickly; enjoy it all.’ I decided to try and take Jason’s advice, and as we dispersed after the anthems