Rugby's holy trinity prove the difference

SINCE time immemorial, rugby has been cloaked in its own cliches: Prince Obolensky was always “dashing”; Colin Meads lived his life as an “unsmiling giant”; Martin Johnson was rarely anything other than “beetle-browed”; and Billy Vunipola, easier to stop with an elephant gun than he is with a Taser according to recent evidence from a late-night bar in Mallorca, will forever be known as “the man who shamed the shirt he wasn’t wearing”.

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Combinations have been stereotyped just as much as individuals, as many a loose forward will confirm. Openside flankers? They invariably had blond locks – think Jean-Pierre Rives, David Cooke, Peter Winterbottom, Neil Back – and were widely suspected of using hair colour products to catch the eye of any watching selectors. Meanwhile, their blindside brethren were routinely pigeonholed as bloodthirsty desperados from the back alleys: “Iron” Mike Teague, Mark “Cowboy” Shaw, Jamie “for God’s sake don’t pinch his pint” Joseph.

As for the No.8s, they were characterised as natural footballers blessed with unusual physical gifts, a fathomless talent for being in the right place at the right time and enough vision to see the bigger picture. Mervyn Davies was a classic example, as, in their different ways, were Morne du Plessis, Murray Mexted and Dean Richards.

Indeed, it used to be said that there was an optimum shape to a back row combination, consisting of a “fetcher”, a “carrier” and a “ball player”. This idea became flesh in the late 1960s, when South Africa ran Piet Greyling, Jan Ellis and Tommy Bedford as their loose trio of choice. Greyling was a rich source of possession in the contact areas, Ellis knew what to do with it once he had it, and Bedford pulled the whole thing together like the conductor of an orchestra.