Sportsman's "Bag."

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 249, 21 October 1933, Page 6 (Supplement)

Sportsman's "Bag."

The 1888 Maoriland Rugbyeans In England. — Their Matches With Broughton and Wigan.— Old-Time Cycling Star. — A Noted Swimmer. — John L. Sullivan, Pugilist. (By ERNEST L. EYRE.) My cycling friend, who toured the Old Country in 1888 with Joe War brick's footballers, referred to them again in 1007. He said:—"Relative to the Yorkshire match I've already described to you, I remember that the county journalists not only accused their defeated 'reps' (who, with a stronger team, brilliantly turned the tables upon the Natives ill a return game on January 19, 18S9) of holding the victorious Maorilanders too cheaply, but complained that a secondclass team had been selected, notwithstanding the available plethora of talented players, including three members of A. E. Stoddart's team, namely, J. P. Clowes and C. Mathers, from Halifax, and Bramloy and J. T. Haslam, a Batlev three-quarter and full-back. In 1879 "(the pressmen asserted) the Yorkshire Union had likewise picked a weak fifteen to oppose the Midland Counties' representatives, who consequently won the .fixture —a new one—by two tries to one. Exception was taken, prior to the contest, to this unusual procedure (as was also the case regarding the selector's choice of men to play against New Zealand, and the scribes of tlio6e distant days sincerely trusted that Yorkshire's laurels wouldn't be allowed to become similarly tarnished again." •'But I suppose the lads outclassed by the Natives were pretty good, all the same," I observed, as we cycled on cocks-foot-lined roads around Palmerston North. "Oh, yes," my pal assented. "Their backs were clever, and the forwards nearly as skilful as Ireland s fiery scrummers, who were the finest the Natives encountered on the tour, being, when dribbling downfleld, almost irresistible. Playing our own game, the Shamrock-wearers never picked up, except in our twenty-five, and in fact were so excellent that "they defeated, in 1894 and 1895, the English, Scotch and Welsh 'reps.'" At Industrial Broughton. We pedalled through some of New Zealand's best cattle country as the speaker continued: "The Maorilandeis 30tli match was arranged for December 15 (Saturday) at Broughton-on-Furness, in Lancashire, and, as the ground possessed no stand accommodation, hundreds of the 5000 onlookers obtained good views of the field from 45 lorries drawn up in a line. Joe Warbrick gave a full-back display equal—despite an injured leg that still troubled, him to -the one, in a similar position, that he featured for Auckland against Otago in a drawn game during. 1877 at Ellerelie. The 15-year-old Joe was then a pupil of St. Stephen's Native School in Parnell, and played in bare feet. "Soon after the commencement of the natives' contest with the Broughton Rangers, clever Fred Warbrick accepted a long pass from his fellow half, Pat Keogli, and scored prettily. After the interval 'Bully' Williams 'touched down' in tlie midst of a thick fog which, suddenly enveloping the field, made it difficult for me -to distinguish the players. However, I glimpsed Wi Karauria notch New Zealand's third try, converted by Ellison, and then dimly saw 'Tab' Wynyard gallop upficld from a group of colleagues'(who. like himself, didn't appreciate England's chilly mists any more than her persistent winds and rain), and, suddenly halting in his tracks, drop-kick the greasy leather, which, describing a 45yds arc over the sodden turf, gracefully negotiated the bar. Then Joe Warbrick performed sensationally. Fielding the oval on his own line, lie dodged through his opponents to half-way as elusively as when, in 1879, he sprinted for the 'reps' of Wellington—to which windy city he went after leaving St. Stephen's College in the. previous year —-in matches .against Canterbury, Otago and Nelson. I couldn't follow the rest of the game (which returned £70 in gate money), because the dense, intensely cold fog— from which the referee's whistle occasionally sounded above the noise of conflict—blotted everything out, but 1 afterwards ascertained that no more scores •.ere registered by our lads, who won by three tries and two goals to nil. This pleas-iig triumph, combined with 18 previous victories, must have 1

proven a bitter pill to be swallowed by the Otago Rugby Union's secretary, who wrote to liis union's delegate in England, Mr. S. E. Sleig'i (manager of the 1884 New Zealand Rugbyeans in Australia) that Wnrbriek's footballers — then leaving on their tour abroad — wouldn't win a sinflj match overseas!" The New Zealanders at Wigan. We rode past low sandhills (skirting the Rongotea-Foxton Road), on which, after the £!reat War, unfortunate returned soldiers were settled, and my companion went on: "The natives' next game, their 31st, took place on Monday, December 17, at the cotton and coal town of Wigan—l4 miles west of Manchester—where SOOO 'fans,' returning £170 gate receipts, warmly welcomed Joe Warbrick, full-back and skipper; Davy Gage, 'Tab' Wynyard and 'Dapper' McCauslaml, three-quarters; 'Mother' Elliott, Fred Warbrick and Pat Keogli, halves; and Tom Ellison, George William, 'Sandy' Webster, Wi Karauria, Harry Lee, Dave Stewart, Alf Warbrick and 'Sherry' Wynyard. The Wigan team included Jack Anderton, the famous three-quarter who materially helped Stoddart's combination to defeat New South Wales and Bathurst in their opening matches in Australia, by respectively IS points to 2 and 13 to G. Jack was in wonderful fettle, but nevertheless couldn't outmanoeuvre his vis-a-vis, 'Pony' Gage, or prevent him brilliantly scoring just prior to the interval. Upon resumption the Wigan lads crossed our line, and then Wynyard, half-hurdling a red-bearded half, notched a try, which McCausland converted. Eventually the game ended — after I'red Warbrick had 'touched down' from a dribble led by Anderson —by three tries and one goal to one try in favour of the Maorilanders, who were beginning to long for glimpses of their native sunlit country's snow-tipped mountains, placid, picturesque fiords, foaming cascades, spouting geysers and wind-rustlei. fern and flax." Old-time Cycling Stars. Six cattle-drovers sat smoking and telling sporting yarns around a campfire near Cunnamulla, Queensland. One speaker, a descendant of the Huguenots, said: "The volatile French people have worshipped (and as quickly forgotten) many athletic idols, prominent among 'em bein' Jacquelin, the 12st 01b champion cyclist - of the world in the lato 'nineties, and this century's early years. Discovered and sponsored by the distinguished Yankee rider Zimmerman durin' his European tour, the Raleigh Cycle Company's ex-mechanic tried conclusions (after outclassin' his English and Continental contemporaries) on May 10, 1900, with the redoubtable Major Taylor, the noted American negro. The Pare des Princes track stretched ribbonlike beforo the rivals' eager eyes, as, bathed in golden Parisian sunshine, they answered the gun in the first three races (the 1333 kilometres event), which Jacquelin annexed by a wheel. The second flutter —a longer oiie—also went to the Frenchman's credit (this time by

10yds), and as Jacquelin's superiority was evident on the day, the third and last race wasn't ridden by the pair, who, adoptin' the French style o£ alternately loafin' and spurtin', actually leaned, durin' the progress of both events, against the encirclin' fence at ono point of tlio course, the object of each rider bein' to compel, if possible, the other cove to take the lead. Twentyeight thousand enthusiastic 'fans'—the largest crowd ever seen at wheel events in France till that date —paid double gate money to watch the cunnin', brightly-costumed 'cracks' pedal comparatively slowly for three-quarters of each distance, and then sprint, with Jacquelin leadin', like greased lightnin' for the tape hundreds of yards ahead! The Frenchman —25 years old —had always possessed a remarkable aptitude for 'jumpin' off' more quickly (despite usin' 6%-incli cranks) on his 10S gear than other cyclists with an 80 ditto, but he was, neverthless, not universally expected to defeat the dusky Taylor, and when ho did so the joy-delirious crowd broke through all obstacles, and, to the accompaniment of indescribable tumult and band music, carried their hero, who was hugged and kissed by cliarmin', adorin' Parisiennes, shoulder-high around tlio oval track." A Clever Swimmer. Then a rover from Maoriland fed the flames with gum bark and commenced: "In the first year of the gay 'nineties a. baby boy—christened Bernard C. Frcyberg —'was born in the melancholy twilight in a London villa, around which twittering swallows flew. Later he was brought bv his parents to New Zealand, where he was educated, and, in addition to becoming proficient at sculling, Rugby football, and boxing, earned considerable fame as a swimmer. Ho commenced his natatorial career very auspiciously, when 10 years of age, at the 1900 Dominion championship meeting, held at Nelson, to which salubrious, beautiful, old-world town he voyaged from Wellington, where he resided. I attended the gala, and saw Frcyberg win tlio 100 yds championship in 1.14, exactly the same 'clocking' i-n which H. J. Bailey, of Auckland, had annexed the IS9I title race in the city by the Waitemata. Bernard also carried off the 440 yds championship event in 0.55 3-5, the 880 yds in 14.13, and the mile in 28.50. He thus put to his credit four races at the meeting, at which the Aucklander, R. M. (Bob) Bell, got first in the 220 yds in 2.54 1-5; F. Truscott, of Canterbury, won the breast-stroke event, over a like distance, in 3.20 2-5; and the water polo trophy went to the Wanganui Club." "Frevberg's performances were ones to be proud of,"' observed a grizzled drover, relighting liis pipe. "Aye," was the response, "and ho scattered the foam just as effectively nt Auckland in 1910, when ho gained tl'.e premier place once again in the 100 yds New Zealand championship, in tlio improved time of 1.5. I lost track of our liero until I went to

Gallipoli, where ho won the Distinguished Service Order for plunging, with his skin painted a khaki colour, from a vessel's deck at night into the sharkinfested waters, through which he swam, while lighting flares to draw the Turkish fire, toward the base of the barren, smoke-slirouded hills, whence darted innumerable tongues of flame! It was an epoch-making, lone-hapded swim—one of the most adventurous ever made—and for cool intrepidity more than equalled our hero's subsequent acts (for which he received the V.C.) that were performed, when he was a battalion commander, in battle's frenzy at Beaueort, France, during December, 1010. When I last saw the Wellington swimmer" (concluded the speaker) "lie was entering the breakers at Cape Grisnez, on the French side of the English Channel, at 5.20 in the evening of August 4, 1925. He battled all the night and next morning with the treacherous currents of the icy water, and at noon, amid shrieking gulls skimming waves newly risen to turbulency, was only half a mile from Kingstown, his destination on the English coast. Freyberg glimpsed, through driving spray, the red-roofed houses, the black rocks, and golden beach, but, although j ho kept his weary limbs moving until one o'clock, the ebbing tide proved too powerful, and the plucky lieutenantcolonel was glad to be lifted into the accompanying boat." He Was a Famous Pugilist. "That's not a bad yarn, but I've got a better 'mi," remarked the party's oldest member. "It's about John L. Sullivan. I first seen him in November, 1870, when he was IS years old. A kid of 12, I useter stand ail' gaze with awe at John, who had reached his full height, sft lOJin, sealed 1751b, an' was so beautifully built an' powerful that he was nicknamed by his own Koxbnry gang 'The Boston Strong' Boy.' His mates feared an' admired him beeos, made extra active by playing baseball, he'd not only belted grease an' sawdust out of all of 'em (an' they were the rortiest crowd in the Atlantic seaboard's toughcist town), but topped off everything by getting the best of a barney, in the March previous, with his quick-tempered boss, a hefty journeyman plumber, whose ugly dial was damaged so considerable his own mother hardly recognised him. Sullivan then grafted for some months as a tinsmith's helper, an' filled in his spare time by successfully scrapping in gas-lit clubs with gloves-— then coming into use—or the bare 'dooks', with which (it was said) he could split oak panels, /ell a nag with a blow, juggle kegs of nails, or straighten out horse shoes! Oil his nineteenth birthday John an' his gang visited a Boston variety show (where pop an' I were sitting' in the stalls) an' after the jugglers an' tumblers had performed, an' the soubrettes sung an' cavorted around, a well-known, fearsome-looking, classy 'heavy,' Jack Scannell, done some .sparring, an' then offered to don the mitts with any bloke present for throe rounds. 'I'll give yer a go'! yelled John L., rising to his feet in the gallery. 'All right, come down 'here, an' be made ready for the undertaker,' hollered the pug, who was answered with a chorus of: 'You'll be the guy wot'll get the coffin, you big stiff!' from the associates of Sullivan, whose advent on the stage was announced by the tossing aside of his coat, an' the rolling up of shirt-sleeves over muscles so hard that, according to reports, pins couldn't penetrate 'em, or his biceps neither, for that matter. I saw Scannell stare, astonished like, at Boston's Strong- 3Joy, ail' tlien, not liking the general look of John (whose angry grey eyes were apparently turning black, as they done when he outed, next year, 'Cocky' Woods, Dan Dwyer, Tommy Chandler, Mile Donovan and Patsy Hogan), he started to fence for time, an' said: 'My assistants will get you some tights; I never box no man wot don't wear 'em.'

"'O, to li— with tights; I'll knock yer cold without 'em!* roared Sully. But just as a stage hand was finishing tying the gloves 011 his meaty paws, the 'pro.' took a mean advantage by lashing out at John. This worthy ducked aside, however, an' expanding his massive chest 011 which (rumour later stated) blacksmiths broke boulders with sledgehammers, an' snarling: 'Yer rotten palooka, I'll fix yer!' he belted his assailant towards the footlights. Then, j uncorking the kind of pile-driver to the j 'point' 'that he used when he 'kayoed.' in 1880 an' 1881, George Rooks, Jack Donaldson. Fred Crosslev, Jim Dalton I nil' Jack Burns, lie knocked Scannell j I senseless through the orchestra's big I drum while his jubilant Boxbury pari tisans, also going into action, ran amok in the gallery; an' dealt it out to rival j gangsters among the gods till the cops were called up." j