77 IS A LONELY LIFE BACK THERE" S. M. C. Murray discusses his role as shield full-back

Press, Volume CX, Issue 32382, 22 August 1970, Page 11

77 IS A LONELY LIFE BACK THERE" S. M. C. Murray discusses his role as shield full-back

(By J. K. BROOKS) SLEEPING fitfully in his ° bed on the eve of a big game, the Canterbury fullback, Stuart Murray, might well imagine he can hear urchins chanting in the street below: This is the man Who kicks the goals That keep the shield tn Christchurch.

Murray does not have to be reminded of the importance of his kicking to Canterbury now that it holds the Kanfurly Shield. But he finds that his approach to the task is

I After a decade of watch- ■ i! Ing the nuggety W. F. Me-; I '' Corniick playing full-back ' I for Canterbury, Christ-1! :; church Rugby spectators ! ; are now getting used to! ; ■ the tall, spare figure of ; 1 S. M. C- Murray filling ; this vital position. They • like what they see. A■ > ; great handler, a good < I kicker and a man who, like i: McCormick, likes to ran '; with the ball, Murray is ;; > essentially an individualist;; ! by nature. In this article,; I he talks frankly about; ! playing a team game with- > ; out losing his individu-1' ; ality.

coloured by his personal views on playing Rugby and by the comparative isolation of the full-back in certain phases of the game. “Are you kicking goals for yourself or for your team?” he asks himself. “When your side is three points down with time running out and you have a kick at goal to take, is it your reputation or that of the team that is at stake?” The answer, Murray feels, lies in the benefit gained by the team through personal achievement In other words, success serves two masters. “If you kick a goal from the side-line or make a saving tackle, or help set up * try, you get much more confidence in yourself, and, as a result you are of greater value to your team.” Murray feels a player is much more aware of this at full-back than in any other position. “It is a lonely life back there—there is really noone to help you when you

have a head-on tackle to make or a high ball to take. “Then there is the psychological aspect of kicking a vital goal. If you succeed, your fellow players pat you on the back, or murmur •good kick.’ But if you miss, even by a fraction, the players stare fixedly at the scoreboard, or look at their boots, and you hear the captain say: *We have got to get stuck in.’ “All this can effect a kicker’s confidence and confidence is more than half the battle. There is far more

personal satisfaction in kicking a goal from the sideline than in having a scratchy game and getting three goals from in front of the posts. "Having a run early in the game does wonders for a fu}l-back’s confidence. I get tensed up easily; on the night before the shield game against South Canterbury, I hardly slept at all. I need a release from this tension from thinking about things to doing them. “Rugby is still a game to me, but it is no use playing

unless you are prepared to devote the time in training to make yourself proficient You have got to have an incentive to play —in my case, it is the inner satisfaction derived from doing well that I strive for.” Murray has kicked a century of points for his team, Lincoln College, in each of the last two club seasons, and has passed 100 points for Canterbury. But he is not a natural kicker, and he works hard at improving his technique in solo sessions once a week.

“I shut my eyes before the. run-up and Imagine how the kick will go. On good days you feel every kick will go over. I have had about six games In which I have had 100 per cent success from four or more kicks.

“But the difference between success and failure can be minimal. When you are kicking from the sideline on the 25yd mark, you are 42yd from the posts and the target is only one-eighth of the size of the one in front of the posts. “I think reporters can be a little harsh when they state boldly that you succeeded with only two out of six, for instance. You can kick to the best of your ability and still achieve a return of this sort if the angles are sharp and the wind capricious.” . Handling, however, comes easily to Murray—a legacy of his days as a basketbailer. Taking the ball over his head, or to either side of his body are tasks he makes look simple. Instinctively, he catches the ball with his fingers rather than Ms palms. “The time devoted to ball control in basketball training is invaluable—l think the same could be done in Rugby.”

There is substance to the claim that Murray might have gone further in basketball than be has in Rugby. He represented St Andrew’s College at the game for three years, and has played for Lincoln College in Christchurch and at university tournaments. His ability was considerable. But he returned to Rugby at Lincoln to play sport with his friends, all of whom were in the college under-19 team. Rugby had been in his blood for some time. He played from the age of five at the primary school at Fairhall, in Marlborough, and although he was one of the smallest boys in the school, he prospered at the game.

Playing as a loose forward, he captained his school side between the ages of 10 and 12. Later, at St Andrew’s, he gained first XV status as a No. 8.

“But I did not have the physical hardness to go further as a flanker. I was only 10i stone in the first XV, and even how I find it hard to put on weight" At present he tips the scales at 12st 61b.

The biggest set-back he has had occurred when-he was in the fifth form. His left elbow was shattered in a Rugby accident and he lost the use of the arm for between six and nine months. Before the accident he used to carry out twohanded exercises such as swinging a golf club or a cricket bat from a lefthanded stance; now he plays golf the other - way round. He is still unable to straighten his left arm completely, and, in reaching for a ball above his head, his right hand is always ahead of his left The accident did not dim the appeal of Rugby for him, and, with the encouragement of bis parents, he has made great strides ahead. “My father is a terrific critic—he tells me where I went wrong.” Murray has played 16 times for either Canterbury A or B since 1968, and the games he remembers with particular affection are those against Taranaki in 1968 and against Wellington this year. In these games, he kicked goals, certainly, but it was tile satisfaction of making a worthwhile personal contribution to the team effort that cheered him most. For, to Stuart Murray, this is what the game is all about.