Analysis with Squidge Rugby
A greatest XV. No.1 The Loosehead
It’s near enough twelve, and I’m just half way through the drink that does it. The topic of conversation is Game of Thrones, the NHS, or something else vaguely relevant, but my brain is ready to dance. There’s two options: Either, I begin a fascinating discussion on whether it’s okay to still like early Woody Allen films, or it’s time, once again, to pontificate on whether Gethin Jenkins just might have been, pound for pound, the single greatest rugby player of all time.
He had more than enough competition for the loosehead shirt, just in the time he played. Whilst the amateur era was filled with glorious grafters, making the most of their body mass, the loosehead in professional rugby tends to be about the most physically intimidating figure you could ever meet in a B&Q.
No man personifies the twenty-first century loosehead like South Africa’s Tendai Mtawarira. He first found fame for his almost superhuman strength, the iconic solo overhead lifts of kick-off receivers genuinely and single-handedly changing the way teams have dealt with restarts ever since. However, the most impressive thing about the man so lovingly known as The Beast was the way he learnt and developed. Infamously ‘tamed’ by Adam Jones on the 2009 Lions tour, he began to work on his technique until he was the dominant force again. There was no better showcase of his willingness to work, improve, and master the dark arts of scrummaging than the way he bowed out: Dominating an entire World Cup as he shoved South Africa right to the title.
Yet whilst Mtawarira may reflect the typical loosehead, it’s hard not to give credit to Tony Woodcock for easing the transition. Woodcock always looked like an old-school prop. He played right until 2015, yet always looked like he’d just done three days down the steelworks. He had the appearance of a man who knew loads of cool knots and always mercilessly beat his nephews at video games, but behind that amateur days exterior was a superb pro-time prop. Tony Woodcock almost always played eighty minutes. Whilst he wasn’t renowned as a world class carrier per se, he found a role for himself outside of the scrum by just hitting more rucks than anybody else. It’s an underrated aspect of the game, but Woodcock covered so much ground, every game, securing his own side’s ball with a remarkable workrate. His reputation was never that of a dominant scrummager, but he was always, always solid. There were days on which he did not go forwards, but Tony Woodcock did not ever, ever go backwards, and that was a guarantee.
It would probably be fair to say Gethin Jenkins was the least-renowned scrummager of the three I’m mentioning here, but then he famously hated that part of the game. Whereas most props revel in the contest, Jenkins would mumble and groan, then go ahead and take apart the opposition anyway. That was who he was and, indeed, by all reports still is. A character who would tell a team-mate he was having a shocker. A guy who would find reason to grumble after an 80-0 win. But the guy who was allowed to, because he always, always delivered.
The true genius of Gethin Jenkins as a rugby player was his versatility. When he first burst through in 2005, he felt ahead of the times, but you suspect he still would in ten year’s time. Jenkins was a solid scrummager and an excellent carrier. But he was also a properly world class breakdown operator. Sam Warburton rated him as the best turnover merchant he ever played with. Perhaps the most noteable being his turnover penalty, over 70 minutes in, that won Wales the game at Twickenham in the 2015 Rugby World Cup and good as knocked out host nation England.
Yet Jenkins was more than this. He had unbelievable speed for a prop. Down the years, we saw him outpace backs, chase down wingers, and sidestep fullbacks. He could kick. Jenkins wellying the ball clear from his own 22 became a common sight, but it went beyond that. We saw him put through chips, grubbers, and pin the ball into the corner when he spotted space in behind. He had fantastic hands. I’ll always remember him lobbing a miss-two perfectly to winger Tom James once for the Cardiff Blues to score. And, like Woodcock, he could just go all game. He’d probably hate every second of it, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Because to repeat points I’ve made when teetering towards tipsy before, Jenkins might have been just more complete than any other player the game has ever seen. Dan Carter couldn’t jackle. Jonah Lomu didn’t pass. Brian O’Driscoll couldn’t scrummage. Richie McCaw couldn’t kick. Gareth Edwards never made twenty-six tackles in a game. Yet Gethin Jenkins had it all. I’m writing this entirely sober, so maybe my opinion bears more qualifiers, but regardless of whether Jenkins is or is not the greatest of all-time, he will always be ahead of his time.
This extract was taken from issue 9 of Rugby.
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