C’est la vie — the essential attitude in France

Press, 25 November 1981, Page 30

C’est la vie — the essential attitude in France

By

JOHN BROOKS

The All Blacks' handsome test victory over the Tricolours in Paris last week-end was a clear indication that Graham Mourie and his men had surmounted the perplexities of a tour of France.

The efficiency of the ball control and distribution and the careful organisation of the defence were- hallmarks of a side which had come to terms with its surroundings. This was a major achievement, for the 1981 New Zealand side had more than its share of irritations which, collectively, might have seriously affected concentration and team spirit. The most potentially harmful occurrences came immediately before the Paris test. First the side was subjected to refereeing at an

absurd level by Jean-Claude Doulcet in the’ game at La Rochelle. Then the players discovered that they were not flying from La Rochelle to Paris, as they fondly imagined, but were committed to a five-hour train ride. Previously they had experienced the fuss of posing for a team photogaph under the threat of having a social function cancelled. Then there was the contretemps over Doug Rollerson, the change of date for one match, the change of starting time for another, the substitution of referees, the use of

only one ball in the Toulouse test, and the rumpus over guest players in the Barbarians team.

Until France’s “Mr Rugby,’’ Albert Ferrasse, personally put some matters to rights, the All Blacks' manager, Pat Gill, was obviously in some bother. There were indications that some of the difficulties stemmed from the liaision officers not living up to their name — an imnression strpnnthpneri

when Jacques Fel was replaced by Jean Gabriel. Whether the change was beneficial is open to doubt, for Mr Gabriel’s name was linked with the La Rochelle fiasco.

However, Mourie and four of his men, Andy Haden, Brian McKechnie, Andy Dalton and Stu Wilson, would have been able to exert a steadying influence on the team because thr went

through similar hoops on the 1977 New Zealand tour of France. "

In Agen, for instance, they were accommodated in a fifteenth century chateau, which was draughty; in Angouleme they were given a training ground which was covered with stones: and in Perpignan when Brian Ford needed a crepe bandage for an ankle, the interpreter brought him the referee.

There were manv other nagging incidents, such as the walking wounded being left without transport to a physiotherapist in Bayonne, and the players finding themselves towel-less after emerging from the showers in the Agen stadium.

On these and other occasions there was great muttering about, and murky looks directed towards the liaison officers — one of whom just happened to be the urbane Mr Fel. On one occasion this French official was absent from duty for two days. When he returned, he explained off-handedly that he had been visiting his married daughter.

But it was Mr Fel’s colleague, Jean Tourvielle, who took the limelight in a stormy clash with the New Zealand manager. Mr Ron Don, in Bayonne. At one stage Messrs Don and Tourvielle were flanking a local interpreter, with Mr Don demanding that this embarrassed official inform Mr Tourvielle that he was incompetent. Mr Tourvielle

could understand English, anyway. The problem arose from the appointment of referees for the second test in Paris and the match which immediately preceded it, in Angouleme. The referee in both cases, was named Thomas — and Mr Don asked whether they were two different men. Discovering that this was indeed so. and that the more experienced man was to control the international were tasks which kept Mr Tourvielle on the telephone to Paris for some time. But obtaining the information from him was akin to extracting blood from a stone, and Mr Don grew decidedly angry.

“I am not given to profanity, but these men are making me bloody angry,” he told New Zealand journalists. The reporters found Mr Tourvielle equally livid. “I go home," he snorted. "I am a man, not a child. I will not be treated like a child.”

Within a day or two, however, the Thomas question was sorted out, Mr Don calmed down, and Mr Tourvielle decided, with a shrug, to stay on the tour. After playing against a background of shrill whistling and noisy fireworks. having their life expectancy threatened by the nefarious head-high tackle known in France as “the cravat," and being constantly tempted with plates of snails and frogs’ legs and glasses of Pernod, the All Blacks learned to be philosophical. And they learned, too. to laugh w'ith the taxi driver who recommended that they should each consume a bottle of fine wine in the dressing room before the Paris test.

“Then you will lose the game,” said their cheerful adviser, “but you will not worry about it.”