THE FOLLOWING PASSAGE is an extract from Willie Anderson’s ‘Crossing the Line’.
The All Blacks game wasn’t long over when I was getting dirty looks from men in green blazers.
Departures from protocol weren’t welcome. Marching into the middle of the Haka was a departure from protocol. I get that. I was on a different emotional wavelength at the time.
I made another diplomatic blunder in my speech at the dinner that night.
A couple of days earlier a good friend of mine, Bob Glover, was blown up a few miles from where I live now. He was 38, a partner in Acheson & Glover who supplied building products to the security forces as well as the general public. That made him an IRA target.
Bob left a wife and three kids, one of whom – Pamela – many years later would marry my son Thomas. His car exploded into a Semtex fireball on the road as he drove home from work.
Because of my close connection to Bob I wasn’t told about his death until immediately after the game. That would hardly be possible in the current age of instant news, but it was manageable back then. I was stunned. Bob was later described by the Dungannon priest, Fr Denis Faul, as: “A good man who has given valuable service to the community.”
It was not directly related to the game but I wanted to mention him in my speech. “We play rugby as if our lives depend on it, which feels right at the time,” I started.
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“But real life is going on beyond the pitch. Real life for me is the death of my friend Bob Glover, blown up by the IRA a couple of days ago, and I’d like to pay tribute to a good man tonight.”
I was told flat out that the IRFU was apolitical. Well, apolitical or not I felt entitled to mention it.
A lot of the All Blacks came up to offer condolences, saying they understood what the northern lads on the Ireland team had to contend with. They seemed to have a better understanding of it than the IRFU committee.
The only one of the blazers who spoke to me that night was Roy Loughead, a decent man and a wise rugby head. I always appreciated his words of support.
“I understand perfectly where you’re coming from Willie,” he said. “You have to live in Northern Ireland to understand Northern Ireland.”
Ulster played the All Blacks the following week in Ravenhill.
The Haka had been all over the news in the meantime. The referee warned us beforehand to keep our distance and we took up a position to make sure there was no nose-rubbing. We were flat as a pancake.
The IRB sent out a directive about observing the gap between rugby’s most famous dance and the opposition.
I could see where they were coming from all right. I was clean mad that day in Lansdowne Road. I don’t regret a second of it. And when people ask me would I not rather have a famous moment attached to a win rather than a loss, I tell them life’s not like that. At least not mine.
Everyone remembers that game for the Haka and the raw emotion, but another remarkable thing happened: a wee lad barely turned 14 had a direct impact on the final score.
Garrett Tubridy had become the team’s ball-boy before being a ball-boy was even a thing. He started by getting the bus in from his family home in Blackrock to watch squad sessions in Lansdowne Road, and from there he became a fixture. So when Grant Fox scored what he thought was his first Test try, Garrett was pressed into service.
“Jim Fleming was on the West Stand side with his flag raised because Sean Fitzpatrick had overstepped the line when throwing into a lineout,” he says.
“Play moved on and Jim stood there with the flag raised. When I asked him why he didn’t run after the referee he said: ‘I can’t – I’m not allowed!’
“In those days there were touchline seats in front of the stands so when Grant Fox scored in the other corner people were hollering at me to run over to the ref, Sandy MacNeill. I had to run on with the sand anyway for the conversion so I went up to Sandy and told him about Jim on the far side. That was the end of the Grant Fox try.”
29 years later I was taking my seat in the stand in the Aviva, along with my brother Ollie, for Ireland against the All Blacks. And who was sitting beside us, with his wife Tatiana? The same Garrett Tubridy. We took it as a good omen.
And we were right. He didn’t have to run after the ref that day. The All Blacks were the ones being chased. It was a great day out.
‘Crossing the Line’ by Willie Anderson with Brendan Fanning is published by Reach Sport. More info here.
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'I wasn’t told about his death until immediately after the game'
THE FOLLOWING PASSAGE is an extract from Willie Anderson’s ‘Crossing the Line’.
The All Blacks game wasn’t long over when I was getting dirty looks from men in green blazers.
Departures from protocol weren’t welcome. Marching into the middle of the Haka was a departure from protocol. I get that. I was on a different emotional wavelength at the time.
I made another diplomatic blunder in my speech at the dinner that night.
A couple of days earlier a good friend of mine, Bob Glover, was blown up a few miles from where I live now. He was 38, a partner in Acheson & Glover who supplied building products to the security forces as well as the general public. That made him an IRA target.
Bob left a wife and three kids, one of whom – Pamela – many years later would marry my son Thomas. His car exploded into a Semtex fireball on the road as he drove home from work.
Because of my close connection to Bob I wasn’t told about his death until immediately after the game. That would hardly be possible in the current age of instant news, but it was manageable back then. I was stunned. Bob was later described by the Dungannon priest, Fr Denis Faul, as: “A good man who has given valuable service to the community.”
It was not directly related to the game but I wanted to mention him in my speech. “We play rugby as if our lives depend on it, which feels right at the time,” I started.
“But real life is going on beyond the pitch. Real life for me is the death of my friend Bob Glover, blown up by the IRA a couple of days ago, and I’d like to pay tribute to a good man tonight.”
I was told flat out that the IRFU was apolitical. Well, apolitical or not I felt entitled to mention it.
A lot of the All Blacks came up to offer condolences, saying they understood what the northern lads on the Ireland team had to contend with. They seemed to have a better understanding of it than the IRFU committee.
The only one of the blazers who spoke to me that night was Roy Loughead, a decent man and a wise rugby head. I always appreciated his words of support.
“I understand perfectly where you’re coming from Willie,” he said. “You have to live in Northern Ireland to understand Northern Ireland.”
Ulster played the All Blacks the following week in Ravenhill.
The Haka had been all over the news in the meantime. The referee warned us beforehand to keep our distance and we took up a position to make sure there was no nose-rubbing. We were flat as a pancake.
The IRB sent out a directive about observing the gap between rugby’s most famous dance and the opposition.
I could see where they were coming from all right. I was clean mad that day in Lansdowne Road. I don’t regret a second of it. And when people ask me would I not rather have a famous moment attached to a win rather than a loss, I tell them life’s not like that. At least not mine.
Everyone remembers that game for the Haka and the raw emotion, but another remarkable thing happened: a wee lad barely turned 14 had a direct impact on the final score.
Garrett Tubridy had become the team’s ball-boy before being a ball-boy was even a thing. He started by getting the bus in from his family home in Blackrock to watch squad sessions in Lansdowne Road, and from there he became a fixture. So when Grant Fox scored what he thought was his first Test try, Garrett was pressed into service.
“Jim Fleming was on the West Stand side with his flag raised because Sean Fitzpatrick had overstepped the line when throwing into a lineout,” he says.
“Play moved on and Jim stood there with the flag raised. When I asked him why he didn’t run after the referee he said: ‘I can’t – I’m not allowed!’
“In those days there were touchline seats in front of the stands so when Grant Fox scored in the other corner people were hollering at me to run over to the ref, Sandy MacNeill. I had to run on with the sand anyway for the conversion so I went up to Sandy and told him about Jim on the far side. That was the end of the Grant Fox try.”
29 years later I was taking my seat in the stand in the Aviva, along with my brother Ollie, for Ireland against the All Blacks. And who was sitting beside us, with his wife Tatiana? The same Garrett Tubridy. We took it as a good omen.
And we were right. He didn’t have to run after the ref that day. The All Blacks were the ones being chased. It was a great day out.
‘Crossing the Line’ by Willie Anderson with Brendan Fanning is published by Reach Sport. More info here.
Originally published at 07.30; updated at 18.03
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