J.P.R.
Alan Watkins
OR: an Autobiography J.P.R. Williams (Collins £5.95) Since 1945 Wales has produced four great full backs: in order of time, Lewis Jones, Terry Davies, Terry Price and John Williams. It is, I hope, no excess of local patriotism to point out that the first three came from the Llanelli club. Jones early went north (where he was outstandingly successful); while Price's playing career soon and sadly disintegrated; some, indeed, [flay think that on this account he ought not to be included in the list at all. Only Davies and Williams enjoyed spans in Rugby Union commensurate with their talents. There could be long, useless and enjoyable Pub arguments about which of the four was the greatest. The easy answer would be that, owing to the change in the touch-kicking law, the criteria are different: we are not comparing like with like. Still, both Jones and Price frequently played as threequariers, and would have been adept at the modern game; while Davies was no slouch about the field either. All three were better kickers, whether placeor line, than Williams. This is a deficiency about which, in 'his autobiography, he contrives to be both straightforward and slightly ambiguous. At one point he says he was improving until Barry John started to take the place kicks in New Zealand in 1971. Perhaps the difference between him and previous full-backs is that Williams is not only a Rugby star but also, what is not quite the same, a public personality, albeit in a small way of business; much as Barry John became a public personality for a short time In the early 1970s. Let me illustrate the distinction between stars and personalities by reference to other sports. Stanley Matthews was a star who could add 20,000 to a gate but he was not a personality. Soccer had to wait for Best, Moore, foreign players such as di Stefano and, above all, Pele. Cricket was different, mainly on account of the distinction between amateurs and professionals. Thus Grace, MacLaren and Jardine were not only personalities but public figures; Hammond, Hobbs and Sutcliffe were admired players. Denis Compton in 1947 was the first professional cricketer to be glamorised. And he achieved his status Without television. It was a further 25 years before a Rugby player, Barry John, was similarly regarded. Partly this was due to the Lions' unexpected success in New Zealattd, in which John, together with J.P.R. !NI'hams, played a notable part. But mainly, think, the change was attributable to television.
Williams, with his floppy hair, his rolled down stockings, his courage and his ability to win matches, was perfectly suited to the medium. He could be recognised and his accomplishments, up to a point, appreciated by those whose knowledge of Rugby was scant. I hope his numerous admirers do not misunderstand this. He would have been a great player in any period — though he says that, if he had his time again, he would be a flanker rather than a full-back. I hope also he does not misunderstand it himself, for both in his book and, perhaps to an even greater degree, in his occasional public utterances, he tends to show a disproportionate sensitivity about newspapers and television. In fact television has done nothing but assist his Rugby career; and newspapers, when they have been adversely critical of him, have been less so than of other players, such as Phil Bennett.
Both his parents were GPs in Bridgend. He therefore came from the nearest South Wales provides to an upper middle-class background. Doctors are much admired; more so than teachers, preachers or solicitors. They emphasise their primacy by often sending their children away to school in England — an uncharacteristic Welsh trait, even for those with cash to spare — though it is usually to somewhat dim establishments such as Epsom, Bromsgrove or Denstone. Young John was first destined for Epsom and, for a time, attended a local preparatory school with that end in view. But he passed the 11-plus and decided he preferred Bridgend Grammar School, where he stayed until, in the sixth form, he went to Millfield on a sports scholarship (tennis and Rugby). One gains the impression that he did not get on any too well with the headmaster, R.J.O. Meyer, who liked to be called 'Boss'. Anyone who actually wants to be called 'Boss' must have something the matter with him.
The merit of Williams's book is that it is an honest attempt at autobiography. There is a lot about his parents, his three brothers, his girl-friend (later his wife) Scilla and his work, interspersed with medical high jinks, at St Mary's Hospital. Though he can hardly be said to have impaired his amateur status as a writer — he is specially attached to exclamation marks — he nevertheless shows some skill in organising the material. He is neither straightforwardly chronological nor rigidly compartmental or analytical ('Work' or 'Tennis') but, instead, a happy mixture of both. Thus Welsh internationals are in one chapter, Lions tours in another, the golden years of London Welsh in another again. This arrangement entails some inevitable repetition and some cross-referring: but on the whole it works well.
I question one of his suggestions: that, to place less strain on their players, the Welsh clubs should adopt the English system of half-a-dozen or so junior club sides. There are several objections to this. First, if Welsh players are over-strained, the solution is to cut down on the mid-week club fixtures. Second, it is not at all evident how umpteen junior sides would produce easier replacements for players than the squad system adopted by most Welsh clubs. Third, English players are also frequently over-strained by the ridiculous county championship which merely wastes everyone's time and which, regrettably, has just been revivified by commercial sponsorship. Fourth, England's national record over the past decade and more hardly encourages any other country, least of all Wales, to adopt any of its organisational features.
Fifth, and most important, Wales's village and small town sides are a positive strength. Williams has, in a sense, been spoiled by being rewarded early (though entirely justifiably) and spending virtually his entire Rugby career at the very top. Thus a young man of 19 playing for a village side in, say, the Llanelli and District League is only two rungs away from playing for Llanelli, Swansea, Neath or Averavon. He may be no better as a player than someone in Richmond Nths: but he feels better. He has his own kit, including nowadays blazer, sweater and Adidas (or whatever) bag. He has a clubhouse. (Indeed the size of the clubhouse of the Welsh junior sides increases in direct proportion to the local unemployment.) He attracts local loyalty. Above all, he plays before a crowd, often sizeable, not to empty touch-lines in some bleak and remote suburb.
Most of Williams's suggestions are better: 'Whether players wear the traditional jock strap or briefs beneath their shorts is a question of individual choice, although some authorities are now condemning the time-honoured jock strap which has come under attack for causing the fungal infection tinea cruris (jock itch). The main problem with using a jock strap is that it lies damp at the bottom of the bag and probably never gets washed! A dry clean jock strap shouldn't give you jock itch.' Thank you, doctor! Thank you also both for playing football and for writing an interesting book. However. I am bound to say that, if confronted with the choice of being treated by Dr David Owen or Dr J.P.R. Williams, I should not find the decision easy.
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