for the quality of his scrummaging and the depth of his knowledge as for his haircut. The bar he’s set at tight head is so high it’s now the one position in the squad where Wales struggle to find equivalent cover. Over the last few years he’s brought his weight down from twenty-three stone to closer to nineteen , lifting his levels of fitness to keep pace with the modern game. Amenable and gentle off the field, with a quick sense of self-deprecating humour, Adam doesn’t think of himself as ‘a very confrontational bloke’. And yet during a match he’s often the epitome of the word, whether packing down to take on an opposition front row or throwing himself into tackles, his long hair flying about his head a visual register of the force he’s put into the impact.
In France the front row is as iconic among rugby fans as the outside-half is in Wales. The French pride themselves on their scrummaging ability, on their tradition of dominating opposing packs. So Adam knows today will be another hard day at the office, and that he’ll need to protect his right shoulder to avoid being shunted by the French. But at least he’s back with his British Lions teammates, Matthew Rees and Gethin Jenkins, bothrecovered from injury. Between the three of them they present a front line of massive experience; a vanguard of hundreds of international hours behind which the team’s younger backline will hopefully be able to go to work.
Adam, like all the squad, will go for a ‘primer’ today. Not that long ago these didn’t exist, with teams doing all their physical preparation at the stadium. For several years they consisted of no more than a weights session. Today, although many players will still use weights to stimulate their nervous systems, to give their bodies a match-day sensation of tightness, the primer is more individually focused. Under the instruction of Adam Beard, Wales’s head of physical performance, the primer is now about responding to the specific needs of that player on that day. Some will stretch existing tension in certain muscle groups. Others will work on co-ordination skills, sharpen reaction times. The backs will also walk through their moves, while the forwards will walk through their line-out drills, laying down the rhythms of each call in their muscle memories. For Leigh Halfpenny, once again today’s long-range goal-kicker, his primer will be to do what he’s done a thousand times before: go down to the Castle training pitch and practise his kicks with Jenks. And because this is a match day he’ll do this not just for the kicking itself, but also ‘to get a feel for the day’: the quality and strength of the wind, the weight of the weather, the taste of the light.
9.00 a.m.
Roger Lewis, the chief executive of the Welsh Rugby Union, stands on the edge of the Millennium Stadium pitch, bathed in the warm light of a camera crew. Dressed in a grey suit, red WRU tie and red scarf, he is giving an interview to the BBC. Beside him the Blims, a five-man band from Bridgend, are warming up to play their Grand Slam song, ‘Sidesteps and Sideburns’, which over the past week has become a YouTube hit. They wear the red and white striped scarves of the 1970s, and the lead singer has thick sideburns reminiscent of the era. Even when celebrating today’s team, most of whom were born in the late 1980s, Welsh rugby’s stubborn memories of the 1970s still persist, as if support of a contemporary squad will always be tainted by comparison.
The camera turns towards the Blims, and they begin to play.
A long time ago before I was born we once had a team that was always adored,
with sidesteps and sideburns and Grand Slams galore,
our magical boys wrote their names in folklore.
The BBC broadcast shows live on the big screens hanging from the North and South Stands, brieflycommitting the Blims to a diminishing hall of mirrors as they appear on a screen within a screen within a screen. Roger looks on, smiling,
In France the front row is as iconic among rugby fans as the outside-half is in Wales. The French pride themselves on their scrummaging ability, on their tradition of dominating opposing packs. So Adam knows today will be another hard day at the office, and that he’ll need to protect his right shoulder to avoid being shunted by the French. But at least he’s back with his British Lions teammates, Matthew Rees and Gethin Jenkins, bothrecovered from injury. Between the three of them they present a front line of massive experience; a vanguard of hundreds of international hours behind which the team’s younger backline will hopefully be able to go to work.
Adam, like all the squad, will go for a ‘primer’ today. Not that long ago these didn’t exist, with teams doing all their physical preparation at the stadium. For several years they consisted of no more than a weights session. Today, although many players will still use weights to stimulate their nervous systems, to give their bodies a match-day sensation of tightness, the primer is more individually focused. Under the instruction of Adam Beard, Wales’s head of physical performance, the primer is now about responding to the specific needs of that player on that day. Some will stretch existing tension in certain muscle groups. Others will work on co-ordination skills, sharpen reaction times. The backs will also walk through their moves, while the forwards will walk through their line-out drills, laying down the rhythms of each call in their muscle memories. For Leigh Halfpenny, once again today’s long-range goal-kicker, his primer will be to do what he’s done a thousand times before: go down to the Castle training pitch and practise his kicks with Jenks. And because this is a match day he’ll do this not just for the kicking itself, but also ‘to get a feel for the day’: the quality and strength of the wind, the weight of the weather, the taste of the light.
9.00 a.m.
Roger Lewis, the chief executive of the Welsh Rugby Union, stands on the edge of the Millennium Stadium pitch, bathed in the warm light of a camera crew. Dressed in a grey suit, red WRU tie and red scarf, he is giving an interview to the BBC. Beside him the Blims, a five-man band from Bridgend, are warming up to play their Grand Slam song, ‘Sidesteps and Sideburns’, which over the past week has become a YouTube hit. They wear the red and white striped scarves of the 1970s, and the lead singer has thick sideburns reminiscent of the era. Even when celebrating today’s team, most of whom were born in the late 1980s, Welsh rugby’s stubborn memories of the 1970s still persist, as if support of a contemporary squad will always be tainted by comparison.
The camera turns towards the Blims, and they begin to play.
A long time ago before I was born we once had a team that was always adored,
with sidesteps and sideburns and Grand Slams galore,
our magical boys wrote their names in folklore.
The BBC broadcast shows live on the big screens hanging from the North and South Stands, brieflycommitting the Blims to a diminishing hall of mirrors as they appear on a screen within a screen within a screen. Roger looks on, smiling,
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