Autograph Mania

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1028, 19 July 1930, Page 17

Autograph Mania

THE TEAM ON TOUR

Souvenirs of Hard-Fought Games

(By J. G. McHBAX.) LIKE specimens in a museum collection, the British Rugby footballers, when travelling, are subjected at every wayside station to the scrutiny of inquiring enthusiasts peering in through the carriage windows. Some times people thrust fruit, newspapers or other delicate tributes through the windows. More often they thrust autograph books, for autograph mania on this tour has reached appalling dimensions.

'C'OR small boys and octogenarians alike, the signature of a footballer seems to have a fatal fascination. Each day’s mail to Mr. Baxter and Mr. Prentice brings its crop of autograph books. They circulate in the dining rooms of hotels, in railway carriages, and at the complimentary dinners. If the autograph hunters don’t happen to possess that primary essential of an autograph hunter’s outfit, an autograph book, they gladly take a signature on the back of an envelope. Many schoolboys send in blank sheets of paper to be signed, and a celebrity may receive a letter running something like this: “Dear Sir, I watched you playing in the match on Saturday, and 1 would be glad if you would send me back your signature on the enclosed piece of paper.” Compliance with these ardent requests is made as a duty; but when the writers even forget to enclose a stamp for reply, the path of duty becomes Irksome. But the autograph-collecting habit is not altogether one-sided. The British team likes to have autographed souvenirs like footballs, touch-flags, and other mementoes. After every game there is a strong demand for the ball with which the match was piayed. As well as an injured shoulder Jennings bore away from Timaru the ball used in that much-discussed match. JonesDavies secured the ball used in the Maori match. Signatures of the players on both sides were quickly obtained, and# the deflated trophy was then triumphantly packed away. AMONG THEIR SOUVENIRS

If they are ever able to get them all home, members of the party will be able to sing “Among My Souvenirs” with much depth of feeling. To accommodate their lumps of greenstone, Maori mats, feather headgear, pois, diaries, photographs, and newspaper clippings, several players have already had to buy extra suitcases. As they have not yet stayed at Rotorua, where the souvenir urge is strongest, it is probable that the worst is yet to come. Constant travelling about is a wearisome business, only relieved by bridge, poker, “rummy.” practical jokes, singing, and that ultimate anodyne of the tired traveller, sleep. The practical jokes take various forms. For a few days it was fashionable to creep up under cover of someone else’s newspaper. and set it on fire while he was reading it. This form of humour soon wore itself out. The songs, too, are in different forms and of varying respectability. “Macnamara’s band” is the theme song, but it has its rivals. Lately there has been increasing interest in Maori ditties.

In Wellington some benign philanthropist gave the team a portable gramophone, and the collection of records now includes several tuneful Maori songs. These and dance records

are the favourites. But with constant playing and a limited collection the popular airs soon wear themselves out. If there are other philanthropists about, they might bear in mind that the great need of the moment is more records, dance tunes for preference. At most hotels where it is quartered the team has a private sitting room de voted to anything from letter writing and team meetings to quiet meditation. Here the trainer, that infallible and energetic man, “Taffy" Davies, an Aucklander, supervises preparation ©! gear, distributes his ankle bandages, looks to his supplies of the liniment which often pervades the locality, and even performs some of the massage which is one of his regular duties. Here the gramophone broadcasts its cheery airs. Mr. Baxter attends to his daily mass of correspondence, and the daily team notice is posted.

The “orders of the day" are typed cn a specially printed form. They set out the time at which training will be taken, the arrangements for the afternoon and evening, and the hour at which baggage must be packed if the team is moving on. The collected routine orders would give a tabloid history of the tour; and on every printed slip, be it noted, there is a special stipulation, “No breakfasts in bed may be ordered without special permission.” Every match day the rule is rc-laxed so that those playing in the match may have an easy morning, untroubled by the necessity of keeping a 9 o'clock or 9.30 breakfast appointment.

A" one hotel in the South island, the-# heavy booking of outside guests for the match prompted the proprietors to put some of the team on to temporary camp beds. Some liked them. Others did not. For some of the forwards they were inadequate, and or* man, who overlapped the bottom of his bed by several inches, flatly declined to sleep in it. He registered an emphatic protest by folding it up. throwing It out into the passage, an 3 sleeping on the floor! SIDELIGHTS In the Maori match, when the backs were lined out just before Nous scored Britain’s final try. Bowcott, playing fly-half, stationed himself for a drop-kick at goal. But in sending the ball out Spong cut Bowcott out of the movement, the ball going straight to the threequarters. so that No via scored. Apart from the methodical fashion in which what was virtually a reserve pack subdued the strong Hawke's Bay forwards, the most interesting feazure of the match at Napier was the tine performance of Jennings, who scared 12 of the 14 points. For distance kicks Jennings take a good hard run at the ball, contrasting with the few steps taken by Grenside. whose kic-rvs from long-range fell almost pathetically short. Finally, there came Martindale's conversion of the last try with a kick from the sideline. W 1 en the Hawke's Bay forwards made a premature charge. Poole lifted the ball clear of the ground and the referee order a free charge. In placing the ball the second time. Poole took what seemed almost too elaborate care; but the end justified the means. Once the ball left the ground the result was never in doubt.