- The Observer,
- Sunday July 22 2001
It was mildly disappointing that our normally vigilant industry failed to revive the obvious nom de cock-up for Austin Healey last week: motormouth.
From the day he was born in Wallasey 27 years ago, our Austin has been crashing through the gears towards the sort of verbal pile-up that has enraged opinion-formers from Sydney to Kensington.
Enough of the clichés. Because, unlike those who sit in judgment on him, one thing Healey is not is predictable. On the rugby field, his anarchic tendencies have produced energy, danger, chaos - and points. Away from it, in the bar or in print, they can invite the urge to deliver him a right-hander.
'He was always a lively character and obviously that hasn't changed,' says Joe Green, his rugby coach at St Anselm's College in Birkenhead. 'He was constantly winding the opposition up, looking for ways to get one over on them. Yes, he was abrasive. But I think sometimes the opposition took it more seriously than he did.'
Like the Australians last week.
And it is hard to take seriously Graham Henry's assertion that it was Healey's wind-up of the world champions - and Justin Harrison in particular - that might have made the difference in the third Test. Rather, the humourless Henry should have stood by his wildcat player - as his team-mates have done - and played the game to the hilt.
As David Campese has done down the years, as Rodney Marsh did to England's fast-bowling 'pie-throwers', as Steve Waugh is no doubt doing on the pitch in support of his own sledgers against England's shell-shocked players, as Darren Gough does in response, as Douglas Jardine did... the tradition is long and dishonourable. Rightly so. What a dull place it would be without them.
Green remembers that, from the day Healey was delivered into the care of the Christian Brothers as a 12-year-old, his personality lit up that bit of the Wirral set aside for the sort of muscular Christianity best suited to muddy rugby fields.
'He was absolutely 110 per cent all the time,' says Green. 'If he wasn't in a practice he was always coming over, wanting to do extra.'
Healey came to St Anselm's - an Irish stronghold in a very Irish area - after learning the rudiments in mini-rugby at Birkenhead Park and, even though he was a good footballer (he's an Everton fan), rugby was always going to be his game. It was made for him, full of bumps and bruises.
'He was obviously very small,' recalls Green, 'but quite tough. He might not forgive me for saying this, but he wasn't as fast then. He did athletics, the pole vault and the high jump, and he was a good all-round athlete without being particularly quick.'
Healey played for Cheshire at under-16, -17 and -18 level, as well as under-16s and -18s for the North of England Schools. Other St Anselm's old boys include the three Saverimutto brothers and the Stade Français full-back Simon Mason, all of whom 'went Irish'.
So loyalties will be split at St Anselm's when England play their delayed Six Nations fixture against Ireland on 20 October - 11 days after the launch of Healey's autobiography, which promises to be the most entertaining read of the rugby season.
His publisher, Lance Ames of Greenwater Publishing, tries hard to contain his enthusiasm for the project, which might have been an otherwise run-of-the-mill tour book - until Healey took his infamous swipe at Justin Harrison in The Guardian on the day before the third Test last weekend.
It says much about the double standards of this business that among the most enthusiastic bidders for serialisation rights for the book have been those newspapers who have crucified him this past week.
And tucked away in the advance notice of the book is a tantalising reference to a small matter of GBH. What, I wondered, was this all about? Surely not another Healey joke, perhaps a more detailed account of the day he inadvertently sprayed his former coach Bob Dwyer with Lucozade after Leicester beat Dwyer's Bristol team to win the Premiership?
No, says Ames. 'In all honesty, it's something completely different. I know this [one] went to court.' He refuses to elaborate, but apparently it's from his Merseyside days, involved students and did not lead to a conviction on serious charges.
One of Healey's running rows has been where he plays. Healey started his senior rugby at Waterloo, on the wing - representing England at under-21 level - then moved to Wigan, where he played with Orrell, back at scrum-half after the retirement of Dewi Morris.
It is at Leicester, though, switching all over the place, that Healey's career has hit the heights - and the depths. That run-in with Dwyer last year brought to a head an ugly row between player and coach.
'I think I lost a season of my rugby life under Bob,' Healey said at the time. 'He forced me into my shell by applying too much pressure.'
When the no-nonsense Dean Richards took over at Leicester from Dwyer two years ago, Healey was relieved. Not so, however, when the coach put his fist through the dressing-room wall to make the point to young Austin a few months ago that, no, he could not dictate to the club where he was going to play.
Healey, chastened, later said his threat to leave Leicester if he were not made fly-half was just a joke. One that backfired, he might have added.
It was Dwyer, though, who really got under Healey's skin. In the early days of the Lions tour he suggested they might revert to the sort of physicality that characterised their tour there in 1989. This was where the psychological war really started, and the Australian rugby writers (so wounded subsequently) were not slow to pick up on the signals. Healey's contribution was part of all that.
Inside the Lions' tour management, Healey's actions were greeted with dismay. 'He's a bit like Gazza - perhaps a bit more intelligent, but he has the same effect,' one of the coaching team said.
'He can have everyone doubled up with laughter one moment and then provoke one of his own team to want to punch his lights out. Usually, team-mates only whack each other in the scrum and then forget it. Austin was capable of getting pinned to the wall at any time. And the columns definitely affected the atmosphere as far as we were concerned.'
When it was over, when defeat hung heavily on the whole tour party, as well as on the 15,000 travelling fans, the recriminations kicked in.
Had the Lions won the third Test, you would bet good money that Healey's pre-match comments would have been presented as a battle cry that unsettled the Australians.
The reaction since has certainly shocked him - he and his wife are on holiday in Hawaii with Mr and Mrs Martin Johnson - and he will be back in a week or so to sneak under the media wire to attend a friend's wedding. Then, Johnson, Henry and Donal Lenihan will call in Healey for a dressing-down.
After all that, Healey might go to Canada for two weeks. Which should give him time to rev his engine up again as he sets about flogging his autobiography.
'The best way to be a bum and earn a living is to write sports,' Damon Runyon once told a young Jimmy Cannon. Jim was one of the best bums in the business. Welcome to the world of bums, Austin.
