Still out in front, the rocks of ages
THEY have been resting in the front row of the Pantheon now for almost half a century, a reverential pair of props dutifully undisturbed by friend or foe. The place honouring those of exceptional Five-Six Nations longevity has long been cornered by a duo elevated to rock-of-ages status in their respective countries: Alfred Roques in France, Charlie Faulkner in Wales.
Their striking similarities extend far beyond the fact that each dared to enter the Test arena at an age when most of his contemporaries were being wheeled into retirement. They not only survived but thrived, each lasting until as near the grand old age of 38 as made no difference.
By then each had propped four title-winning teams; Roques for France in the first half of the Sixties, Faulkner for Wales in the second half of the Seventies. And of course they shared another similarity central to their modus operandi: an Old Testament faith in an eye for an eye whenever anyone went the biff.
On the concrete-hard pitches of South Africa in 1958, Roques did so to such good effect that in the great temples of Springbok-dom, his name is spoken in the hushed tones reserved for the hallowed. The old of the Rainbow Nation do not need to be appraised of the havoc Roques wrought during France’s first series win there.
Their triumph, recorded for posterity by Denis Lalanne in his acclaimed book The Grand Victory of the French Fifteen which captures the glory and the gory in equal measure, had Roques at the heart of both.
The first four matches against provincial opponents rendered seven French players hors de combat, including scrum-half Pierre Lacroix who had been so badly knocked about that he reportedly spent ‘several hours unconscious with concussion’.
When the Junior Springboks set about beating up what was left of the tourists in Port Elizabeth, the captain of France, Lucien Mias, took Roques aside after another delay to stop the bleeding.
“Alfred,’’ Mias told him, according to Lalanne’s eye-witness account. “Get ready for my signal.’’
Mias, a GP from Pau acclaimed by Springbok devotees as the best foreign forward they had seen in South Africa, then sought out the South African referee with a final plea, knowing full well that it would fall on deaf ears. At that point, some French players feared the worst.
Jean Barthe, the mighty back row forward from Lourdes who died seven years ago at the age of 85, heard Mias serve Roques notice of his imminent un-muzzling. “You are mad, Lucien,’’ Barthe told him. “We won’t get out of this place alive.’’
According to Lalanne, another player gave Mias more of the same: “My word, do you want us all to die in a foreign land?’’
Mias, still alive at 93 despite swigging half a bottle of brandy before the victorious second Test, was too busy giving the referee a warning of his own. “Sir,’’ he said. “Once and for all, my team is doing its best to play fair. But if you don’t protect us from these dirty thugs, I will unleash the dogs of war.’’
Roques, commander-in-chief of the Barking Brigade, was then 33. A late convert from soccer, he played his first game of rugby at 26 and there he was, seven years later, demolishing Springboks legally when crouched in the scrum and demolishing them again illegally when standing upright after the set-piece broke up in a brawl.
That Roques was half the size of the current France tighthead Uini Atonio and less than half his bulk (12 stone against 25-plus) made his imposition of law and order seem almost miraculous. That his compatriots regarded him as ‘a miracle of peace and patience’ made it all the more so.
The son of a peasant farmer from the village of Cazes-Mondenard, Roques lost only three of his 30 Tests for France. Little wonder he felt forever grateful to the game for what it had given him.
“I drove a refuse lorry in Cahors,’’ he said. “And thanks to rugby they put me in a tuxedo and I shook hands with the Queen of England.’’
Faulkner, a Newport steelworker whose black belt judo status made him much in demand as a nightclub bouncer, was similarly grateful despite a running dispute over the year of his birth. For his pen picture in the Wales programme, Charlie gave it as 1945, rejuvenating himself by four years rather than come clean and risk the selectors dumping him too soon as too old. He prided himself on being fitter than props ten years his junior.
“I was never knocked out and I was never knocked down by a punch. I was lucky, I suppose. I was able to defend myself. I wasn’t against punching someone if they punched me.’’
He died last year at the age of 81, Roques 20 years ago at 79. In a Five-Six Nations context they remain untouchable as ancient warriors with only one of the current cast, WP Nel, anywhere close to matching their longevity.
Unable to make the 23 for yesterday’s Calcutta Cup duel, Scotland’s reserve tighthead will need to reappear next year if he is to muscle his way past the dustbin driver and the senior member of Pontypool’s famous Viet-Gwent.