as captain in Bleddyn Williams, while Dai Davies was such a success at hooker that Mullen stood aside for the team’s benefit even after recovering. Incidentally, both Davies and the lightning-quick flank forward Bob Evans were policemen, the latter an inspector with Newport C.I.D. All those young doctors and policemen—yet it was somehow a trouble-free tour…
Bleddyn Williams would become one of the legendary figures of Welsh and Lions rugby, and at the age of 85 his memories of the tour and before are pin sharp. But he nearly didn’t make the 1950 Lions tour at all.
As he recalled:
In the final Welsh trial before the Five Nations in the early part of January, Malcolm Thomas, who also came on the Lions tour, and I were in opposition. He tackled me and my leg was caught in such a position that I tore the ligaments in my knee. I was in plaster for some time, and though they picked me for the Lions, I still had to prove my fitness, which I managed to do in a match for Cardiff against Bath.
The great thing for me was that we went out by boat taking more than five weeks so that I was able to do all sorts of exercises with weights and by the time we reached New Zealand I was in pretty good shape. It also helped that we had so many doctors and trainee doctors around—Jack Matthews was a qualified GP, and Jack Kyle and Bill McKay qualified later, while Karl Mullen became a gynaecologist and Ginger Osborne was a dentist.
I got injured against Otago and missed the first Test, but it was only a pulled hamstring though I made it worse by playing on with the injury—there were no replacements then, of course, and you stayed on the field unless you had to be carried off.
That old law will mystify modern rugby fans used to the ‘revolving door’ replacements of modern matches, but Jack Matthews remembers that ‘no substitute’ rule ruefully: ‘On the tour I think we finished with only 14 men on the pitch in about 20 to 30 per cent of the matches we played. You just had to carry on.’
Matthews himself was almost the victim of some skulduggery by an alleged Irish selector, who threatened him with expulsion from the Lions.
On the morning of our 1950 Triple Crown game against Ireland, I went to ‘spend a penny’, so to speak, and this fellow just said ‘If you play well today you won’t make the Lions tour, as I’m a selector and will see to it.’ I ignored him and went out and played my usual game. We won 6–3, and I never heard another word.
One of the ‘doctors in the making’ on that tour was one of Ireland’s all-time greats, fly-half J.W. ‘Jack’ Kyle, whose inventiveness sparked many a try-scoring move by the backs. Kyle and his fellow Irishmen proved a big hit off the field, and combined with the lads from the Valleys in many a singsong.
‘We had won the Grand Slam in 1948,’ recalled Kyle, ‘and Wales had just won it, so naturally between the two countries we had the bulk of the party.’
Kyle’s experiences of being selected were typical of the time. As a medical student at Queen’s University in Belfast, he had already played for Ireland and was reckoned to be the outstanding fly-half of the day. He had hopes for receiving the selectors’ call but in the end found out he had been chosen for the tour from a newspaper.
‘My father, who was also John Wilson Kyle like me, was reading the Belfast Telegraph when he noticed a report saying ‘the following have been selected…’ and there was my name,’ said Kyle. ‘I know plenty of Lions who found out the same way.
In those days there was absolutely no question of any money or benefits accruing from playing rugby. My dad frequently said to me ‘You’re not going to earn your living from rugby, son, you had better pass your exams.
When he read of my selection, fortunately I wasn’t in the house. He read out the report and noted the fact that I would be away for six months and miss a full term, and then turned to my brother Eric and said ‘Does that brother of yours ever intend to qualify?’
I actually did take a few books and hoped to get advice from the other doctors on the tour like Karl Mullen, but I can’t remember doing much reading and we only had one session where Karl tried to teach me a bit about midwifery and gynaecology.
That may have been the only occasion when midwifery was learned on a rugby tour. As for gynaecology…
As a qualified GP, Jack Matthews’ position was much worse—he had to pay a locum thousands of pounds to fill in for him while he was away so that he didn’t lose his practice. Matthews said: ‘My son was two at the time, and my wife said I could go on tour, but she wanted a maid to help out at home, so I had to pay for her, too. And all we got was seven shillings a day expenses and we even had to buy our own blazers.’ The clothing allowance was also frugal—a Lions tie and two BIRUT badges which the players had to sew on themselves.
Jack Kyle did acquire something substantial from that tour—a brother-in-law, Noel Henderson, who was a student at Queen’s alongside Kyle and Bill McKay. ‘He was a very good centre who greatly strengthened our defence—he was always criticizing me for not getting up on my man, saying things like “Does the out half [fly-half] intend tackling his opposite number by tomorrow?”’ Kyle had to forgive him later: ‘After all, he married my sister and they had four daughters.’
Coming from lands beset by shortages and rationing, the Lions took full advantage of their hosts’ generosity, and in turn they proved to be wonderful ambassadors for the sport in Britain and Ireland. The sparkling play by the backs in most matches and their sportsmanship in all of the games was rivalled only by their obvious enjoyment at the many receptions and outings laid on for them in New Zealand in particular.
‘We had a wonderful time,’ recalled Matthews. ‘The people in New Zealand were often more British than the British, and were always asking us how things were “at home”, even though they had never been there.’
The Lions played a full part in the social whirl that surrounded the tourists, as Matthews remembered:
There were no pubs as such, and people just took us into their homes where we ate and drank merrily. Often they would take us out to hunt wild pigs—fortunately they also brought along professional hunters.
I remember when we visited the Maori settlement at Rotorua and it was quite a sight to see our lads up there dancing with the Maori.
The pace was also leisurely largely because of the way the Lions got around: ‘We would travel by bus or train, never by aeroplane,’ recalled Bleddyn Williams, ‘and would train on school grounds. We had no coaches so Karl would look after the forwards and I would take charge of the backs. Afterwards we would have to give a little talk or answer questions from the pupils.’ Both he and Jack Matthews are adamant about the source of most of the questions—‘The girls, no doubt about it,’ said Matthews. ‘They really were very interested in all aspects of the game.’ So there you have the true secret of the All Blacks’ success—wives, mothers, grandmothers, sisters and daughters all keeping the men on their toes.
Jack Kyle recalled that the four national captains—Karl Mullen, Bleddyn Williams, Peter Kininmonth, and Ivor Preece of England—did the selection chores: ‘We went out without coaches and, to be frank, it was quite a leisurely affair at times.
‘We had plenty of time to see the sights and scenery and at the age of just 24, being carefree and away with a crowd of chaps with nothing to do but play rugby and enjoy ourselves, it really was quite something, a tremendous experience.’
That
