Jeff Connor - Once Were Lions - The Players’ Stories - Inside the World’s Most Famous Rugby Team

The latter part of Queen Victoria’s long reign saw the British Empire at its zenith. Migration to the Colonies by entire families was a regular feature of life in Britain, and certainly the nabobs of the Colonial Service and the various armed forces loved nothing better than to take their British traditions with them. So it was natural that the fast-developing and already very popular sport of rugby football should be exported to countries like South Africa, Australia and New Zealand where the climate suited the game. Attempts to establish rugby in other warmer colonies such as India largely failed—the Calcutta Cup is made of the melted-down silver rupees of the Calcutta Rugby Club which disbanded in 1878 after just five years of existence.

The colonials, both immigrants and natives, considered themselves equal subjects of the Queen Empress, and liked nothing better than to prove their prowess against the ‘old country’ on the cricket pitch in particular. In retrospect, the two entrepreneurs were knocking at an open door when they decided to try and repeat the success of touring cricket teams with a rugby side.

To promote their case, Shrewsbury and Shaw enlisted the help of a very popular sportsman, Andrew Ernest ‘A.E.’ Stoddart of Middlesex County Cricket Club and Blackheath Rugby Football Club, who was with them in the English cricket side in Australia and who would go on to captain England at both rugby and cricket. He was, by all accounts, a born leader of men.

The politics of rugby organization at that time explain why the RFU’s permission was sought, rather than the International Board which had been formed by the then Scottish Football Union and their Irish and Welsh counterparts in 1886. The RFU haughtily refused to join the Board until 1890 and still saw themselves as the supreme body of world rugby. In truth, so did most people in the fledgling sport.

Perhaps surprisingly, given its reputation for extreme conservatism at that period, the RFU gave a sort of tacit approval for the first tour, in so far as they did not try to ban it. They stopped well short of fully sanctioning the tour, however, and issued stern warnings about the issue of payment to the players—the promoters could make a profit, but the participants could not. Many Lions will tell you things have not changed.

The RFU’s overriding concern about any such tour was a perceived threat to the amateur status of players. Driven by class considerations as much as anything, at that time the rules on combating professionalism were incredibly strict as the various rugby unions fought against even those who wanted to at least compensate players for loss of earnings. Anyone who took so much as petty expenses for playing rugby was summarily banned sine die , while a player could be deemed professional, and thus expelled from rugby, if he even took part in a game where any one of the other 29 players was being paid. It was massive discrimination against working people in an age when club and Union officials were uniformly middle or upper class and could afford their time off work. Politics, professionalism, arguments over expenses, debates going back and forth with the sport’s administrators—these themes will recur again in this book.

Shrewsbury, Shaw and Stoddart employed an agent to find players in the then heartlands of the game, the Scottish Borders and the northern counties of England. Some 22 men signed up from ‘working class’ clubs such as Swinton, Salford and Hawick.

Since the tour was going to last eight months, it is inconceivable that some form of compensation was not paid to men who, in some cases, surrendered jobs to take part.

From the outset, an important principle was established. The tourists would be ‘British’ with, initially, players from England, Scotland and Wales. Shrewsbury and Shaw had realized that a team of such a nature would appeal to the large expatriate community in both Australia and New Zealand, Scots being particularly prevalent in the latter country. In the end, the party consisted of sixteen players from English clubs, four from clubs in Scotland, and one each from Wales and the Isle of Man, W.H. Thomas and A.P. Penketh respectively. Two of the Scots, the Burnetts of Hawick, became the first brothers to tour together for the Lions, while among the ‘English’ players were Irish-born Arthur Paul and Dewsbury’s Scottish exile Angus Stuart, so from the start the tourists really were British and Irish, though not yet known as ‘Lions’.

At the last minute the RFU put the whole tour in doubt when one of the 22 tourists, J.P. Clowes of Halifax, was declared a professional and thus cast into the rugby wilderness. His ‘crime’ was to accept £15 in expenses for his kit for the tour. And given the draconian ‘catch all’ nature of the rules on professionalism, every player who played with him or against him would face a similar sentence.

The RFU Committee made their point clear in a statement recorded for posterity in the minutes: ‘The Rugby Football Union has decided, on the evidence before them, that J.P. Clowes is a professional within the meaning of the laws. On the same evidence they have formed a very strong opinion that other players composing the Australian team have also infringed those laws and they will require from them such explanation as they think fit on their return to England.’ That decision was announced just one day before the party was due to sail. The British and Irish Lions were almost strangled at birth by officialdom, and the whole affair heightened feelings on the issue of ‘broken time’ payments, among other things, which would lead to the foundation of professional rugby league just seven years later. Not for the last time, the world’s most famous rugby tourists had sparked controversy.

Anxious not to slay their golden goose, Shaw and Shrewsbury reacted by pacifying the RFU while honouring their commitment to Clowes, who went Down Under with the party but did not play in a single match under rugby football rules—nice work if you can get it.

The touring party left Britain on 8 March 1888, and returned on 11 November. In their time in Australia and New Zealand, the first Lions played 35 rugby matches, winning 27, drawing 6 and losing 2, scoring 300 points for the loss of 101. The tour was split into three sections, the first sojourn of 9 matches in New Zealand followed by 16 in Australia and then back to New Zealand for 10 games.

The first ever match played by the Lions was against Otago in Dunedin on 28 April 1888, the score being 8–3 to the visitors. The honour of being the first team to beat the tourists went to the Taranaki Clubs of New Zealand, victors by a single point. Auckland was the only other home side to triumph, in the final match of the first leg of the tour. From then until they embarked for home, the tourists were unbeaten. It was a fine record, but much more important was the effect the tourists had on rugby in those faraway lands.

The rules of the game were somewhat different in those days. A try, originally known as a touchdown, only gave a team the right to ‘try’ a conversion, which could earn the scoring side two or three points and was known as a goal. The confusion over scoring was because there were differences in the scoring system between various countries, with a penalty goal worth two or three points in some countries, and a drop goal worth up to four depending on where you were playing. The first standardized scoring across the rugby world did not arrive until 1891 after England’s RFU joined the International Board, when a try was set at two points; a ‘goal’, i.e. try and conversion, earned five points; a penalty was worth four; and a drop goal also scored four.

There were also variations in the rules and refereeing standards and practices between north and south—another constant refrain that still bedevils rugby. In the early tours, the home sides made the adjustments to accommodate the tourists, who had developed forms of play which the other countries considered as breaches of the offside law. It was the Lions heeling from the scrummage that proved most controversial on the first tour, but the New Zealanders in particular soon became masters of this imported art.