Mick Cleary
THE 1997 British Lions could not be further removed from their celebrated battling ancestors. The game has moved on and the Lions are hell-bent on moving with it.
While it’s true that the Lions need to have more edge and tightness in their forward play, their primary concern as they swing towards the pressure cooker of provincial programmes – Northern Transvaal, Gauteng (Transvaal), and Natal within eight days starting on Saturday – is to harness their resources, play a wide, free-wheeling game and not stand toe to toe with any local enforcers.
They’ll be tough and muscular when they need to be. They know too what they can offer in that department. They are unsure yet quite what they can offer in other parts of the field. They know what they would like to offer, but we have yet to see sustained evidence that brazen theory can be translated into harmonious reality.
The Lions have declared their hand. They are looking to play a fast, interactive, seamless game where forwards and backs merge as one in the hope of destructuring the tightly choreographed defences of the modern era. “We want to play in a way that the South Africans don’t expect us to play,” says their coach, Ian McGeechan. “We don’t want to be loose but we do want to play on the edge. We want to be ambitious and not to play in a straitjacket.”
McGeechan’s is a high-risk strategy in any context. With the Lions, who have existed as a team for just a few weeks, this is an audacious roll of the dice. It is also the right one. And if there is one player who convinces you of the fundamental correctness of the approach it is Jeremy Guscott. The style of play is a perfect fit for the game’s most bespoke player.
Guscott scored two tries against Eastern Province. He was sharp, elusive, threatening and commanding. He shepherded the new boy, uncapped centre Will Greenwood, beautifully, with a mix of paternal care and bullish youth and confidence. Guscott’s defence was also impeccable. So little is made of Guscott’s shrewd, robust tackling. He is no gilded butterfly, a precious species craving gentle handling.
Guscott is the all-round centre, which is precisely why he should play there and not be shunted sideways into the wings.
The temptation to play him on the wings will be overpowering. The one area in which the Lions are spoilt for choice is at the centre. Any of Scott Gibbs, Allan Bateman, Alan Tait and the Tigers tyro, Greenwood, would grace a Lions side. Guscott has the pace, balance and perception to play on the wing, as he showed with devastating effect when he came on in that position for England as a half-time replacement against Wales. (Jack Rowell’s decision to omit Guscott last season appears more crass by the day.)
For all this, the Lions would be wrong to play him out there. If their ambitious game plan is ever to come to fruition they need Guscott’s withering thrust, his drifting angular runs, his probing intellect, to be in play as often as possible. To remove him from the heart of the action would be to muffle the side’s creative potential.
The McGeechan medley of options is music to the ears of Guscott, the star turn of the cabaret who has so often been reduced to the role of bouncer, turfing out intruders and performing the menial chores of chasing kicks and harrying defenders. “Yes, I do wish the new laws had arrived 10 years ago and we had played this type of rugby,” said Guscott, who will be 32 two days after the final Test. “It’s my kind of game. In fact it’s not just me who feels liberated by it; everyone does. The message is clear. We have to forget the numbers on our backs. The props have to play like centres, the centres like props. If you watch the Brazilians play football you don’t know really whether they’re defenders or attackers. That’s the aim.
“There is no Plan A and Plan B. There is a format, and we have to fit in to it and react accordingly. I’d be disappointed if we didn’t take advantage of the opportunity now. And, yes, my aim is to play centre.”
The Lions have brought the best out of Guscott. This is his third tour and this is his natural habitat. His flickering genius finds true and more lasting expression among the more talented ranks of the Lions. The well-disguised competitive beast that is the real Jeremy Guscott the rugby player – the sardonic, laid-back persona is a mask of convenience to bemuse and distract – rises to the challenge of the Lions environment.
“It is special,” says Guscott. “It’s hard to explain precisely why because it is like one of those warm, private family moments which sound daft when you describe them to outsiders. But when everything clicks, when it all comes together and everyone is thinking and reacting the same, then it’s a great feeling. I look around the squad and I think, `Well, why can’t we come through?’ The whole tour party is very lively, very positive.”
Guscott was smiling last week. No wonder. The British game is finally heading his direction.