SPECTATOR SPORT
An unlikely revolutionary
Simon Barnes
WILLIAM WEBB-ELLIS changed the face of football on the famous day that he picked up the ball and ran with it. But really that was nothing much, not compared to that later William. Will Carling picked up the entire game and ran with it. And rugby union will never be the same again.
He did not seem like a revolutionary when he first became England captain in 1988, the youngest captain for more than half a centu- ry. No, he was just another smoothie subal- tern, an impeccable rugby type, just what was needed to give a spot of leadership to the chaps. Not too much, of course, if he ever got above himself the lairds of Twickenham would get rid of him.
The patterns, it seemed, were set in stone: England would bumble on from season to season, the odd good performance spliced with the wry but sporting acknowledgment of defeat. Captains would come and go, and life would go on as it always had done, and our Great Game would continue to play its odd little role in middle-class life, not like certain other vulgar games we could mention. Moral superiority is what counts, not sporting supe- riority. It would upset things if England got too good: and so it proved.
This Saturday, after eight years in charge, Carling, resigning with immaculate timing, plays his last game as England captain. A national hero, popular as no rugby player has ever been before, rich as no rugby player has ever been before, he surveys a game transformed.
The first aspect of the Carling strategy was the least expected: winning. His partnership with the former coach, Geoff Cooke, added a certain certainty, something England had never had before. It was deeply resented by the type of rugby administrators known as the Living Dead. If amateurism is a synonym for sloppiness, the Cooke/Carling teams were professional — professional in prepara- tion, in the formulating of a game plan, in adhering to it and making it work. Carling has played 65 internationals, 59 of them as captain; his record as captain is 43 wins, a draw and 14 defeats. The Living Dead watched with dread as this record was being set. Victory is power.
Carling's second ploy was still more revo- lutionary. It was to make money from rugby. Not that he was paid to play: that was to come almost at the end. Carling bought him- self out of the army and started a company. It is called Insights, and through it he sold — well, himself, really, disguised as inspira- tion, as motivational services to businesses. Do such things really work? Well, they work for Carling.
Naturally, the Living Dead hated him even more for this. Rugby's circle of cosiness was broken. Rugby makes great television: Car- ling was immaculate in interviews. But he was trapped by an unscrupulous television producer into dropping his notorious remark about the game's administrators, the now famous 57 old farts. Revenge, it seemed, was handed to the Living Dead on a plate. It was an illusion. The farts were scattered by the winds of change.
Carling was too popular, too successful to be sacked. The game became professional at long last, jettisoning the hypocrisy that was for years its ruling passion. And Carling will step out at Twickenham today to bathe him- self in love. The opponents are Ireland, and the script says that England should fmish the season with the Triple Crown and on a note of modest triumph.
Carling remains decent, genuinely like- able, and altogether the most unlikely revo- lutionary. In another era, or even another sport, he would have been the most conven- tional player alive. He did not make the rev- olution possible, for it was coming with all the forces of history behind it. He made it relatively painless: that was his triumph.
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