Phil Vickery - Raging Bull - My Autobiography

RAGING BULL

The Autobiography of the England Rugby Legend

PHIL VICKERY

WITH ALISON KERVIN

To Kate, Megan and Harry

Title Page

Dedication

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE: THE BEST PLACE ON EARTH

CHAPTER TWO: BUDE HEAVEN

CHAPTER THREE: PROGRESSING TO REDRUTH

CHAPTER FOUR: GLOUCESTER WOES

CHAPTER FIVE: TURNING PRO AT KINGSHOLM

CHAPTER SIX: ENGLAND CALLING

CHAPTER SEVEN: ‘IF I HAD A GUN…’

CHAPTER EIGHT: YOMPING WITH THE ROYAL MARINES

CHAPTER NINE: THE 1999 WORLD CUP

CHAPTER TEN: MAKING A STAND

CHAPTER ELEVEN: LIONS ROAR

CHAPTER TWELVE: CAPTAIN PHIL AND THE ARGENTINIANS

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: CLUB ENGLAND

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: 2003 WORLD CHAMPIONS

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: AN AUDIENCE WITH THE QUEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: LIFE AFTER CLIVE

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: A BIZARRE INJURY

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: ‘WILL I PLAY FOR ENGLAND AGAIN?’

CHAPTER NINETEEN: BRIAN ASHTON’S ENGLAND

CHAPTER TWENTY: 2007 WORLD CUP … AGAINST ALL ODDS

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: WINNING WASPS

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: LIONS IN SOUTH AFRICA

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: CRASHING DOWN

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: PAIN IN THE NECK

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: MY TEAM

INDEX

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

COPYRIGHT

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

I‘m the luckiest bugger in the world. Look at me - this daft bloody farmer from Cornwall and I’ve travelled the world, been on two Lions tours, two World Cup finals (and won one of them), got an MBE and met the Queen.

Met the Queen. Me! Bloody hell. There I was, this chubby herdsman in a smart suit, standing in the Palace, surrounded by corgis, sipping tea and eating sandwiches without crusts. Who’d have thought it? Not any of my school teachers, that’s for sure. Not the guys I grew up with or the mates I went to school with. I don’t think anyone who knew me when I was younger would have believed for one minute that I’d end up at Buckingham Palace. It’s been a hell of a bloody journey, from doing the milking down on the farm in Bude and kicking balls through Mum’s kitchen windows to having tea in the Queen’s house and meeting the Prime Minister. It’s not all been great, I’ll admit. I’ve had some back operations that would make your eyes water just to think of them, but most of it has been amazing.

The reason it’s been amazing? It’s because of the people I’ve met. Daft buggers like me who play in the front row, getting their teeth kicked in and their ears bent inside out … the real men. You make friends quickly when you’re cheek to cheek with a bloke. You learn to respect someone when you see them operate at such close quarters and you know about commitment when you’re staring into the eyes of Raphael Ibanez, Oz du Randt or some big bloke known as ‘The Beast’, and preparing to shove your head next to theirs and force yourself forward with every ounce of strength you’ve got. It’s bloody great when you feel the scrum move forward and you know you’ve got them. One little power struggle won for you, one little fight lost for them. Best feeling in the world, and I bloody love it.

Mind you, it’s not so great in the mornings. I wake up some days after playing and everything hurts. Every muscle feels like it’s been smashed to pieces and I’m sure I can hear them screaming when I try to move. Getting out of bed feels like the hardest job in the world. There are days when just moving an arm hurts so much I feel as if I’ve been shot, but even in the worst moments I wouldn’t change any of it. Even on the days after my horrendous operations when I was in so much pain I could hardly see straight, I’ve never regretted a minute of my life as a rugby player.

I’ve met some great people, been to some great countries and lived a life that most people dream of. I’m very grateful to have been given the opportunity to do this. I am honoured to carry the dreams of millions when I run out in that white England shirt or the red Lions shirt. It’s easy to say ‘I feel privileged’ but I do. I feel as if I’m the luckiest guy ever.

I’ve had a hell of a career because so much has changed since I started. Things have happened during my time as a rugby player that have been astonishing to witness -like the game turning from amateur to professional as I was starting out at Gloucester. I’m privileged to have experienced both sides of the sport.

One thing that hasn’t changed is the commitment it takes to make it to the top. There’s a lovely phrase and I use it all the time … ‘If you’re going to fail, die trying.’ That’s my motto. I believe you should fall at the last; don’t cross the line coming second. Go for it . I know it’s easy to say, and it isn’t about rugby or playing for England. To me, it says that, whatever you do in life, give it everything. Fight every problem to the death and throw your weight behind everything that means anything to you. Most of all, have fun doing it.

That philosophy worked for a tubby farmer from Cornwall who got to meet the Queen .

Cornwall … I bloody love it. It’s a great place, isolated from everywhere and full of the friendliest people in the world. It’s more like a village than a county - packed full of daft types who treat each other like one big family. I loved growing up there and hearing about its great history - all the myths and legends from times gone by, the stories about wrecked ships mysteriously disappearing, and tales of strange happenings that no one could explain or seemed to know where they’d come from. There’s something about the scenery down in Cornwall and the beauty of the place that inspires writers, poets and musicians and gets people telling tales. There were always famous people moving into the area when I was young, aiming to find creativity on the wide, golden sands, amongst the big cliffs and in the beautiful countryside. I thought I lived in the most special place on earth.

I’m from North Cornwall, where the Atlantic winds come bursting in off the sea. I love the ruggedness of it all. It can be very bleak at times, very dark and moody, but very beautiful at other times. I love the fact that things don’t change constantly as they do in other parts of the country. Things stay the same and the people stay the same. It’s the place where I grew up, went to school and lived for the first nineteen years of my life - running around on Duckpool beach, diving into the sea and body boarding on the huge waves. Taking my bloody life in my hands as I surfed close to the cliffs, and loving it as the eight-foot swells threw me off my body board. We’d go fishing in the rock pools with Dad and Granddad and mess around on beaches that were so hard to get to from the cliffs that we had to ease one another down on these tatty old ropes we’d found, none of us worrying about how dangerous the whole thing was, or wondering for a second how we were going to get back up again.