By BrianC
April 12 2004

Recently I have had the joy of making contact again with a very dear friend that I lost touch with over twenty years ago, after she moved back to Australia. In the process of catching up with each other’s lives the subject of rugby in general and London Irish in particular has come up. The person she knew in the early 1980’s had no interest whatsoever in either rugby and, although Irish, pointedly avoided Irish associations or clubs in England. This is how I have tried to explain what happened to change this.

Dear Karen,

You now know that, despite living in the Netherlands, I am very much involved with an English based rugby club called London Irish, even to the extent of co-editing by far the busiest of the websites in and around the club. The person you knew all those years ago could hardly have seemed a less likely individual to develop this interest. How did it happen? I’m not sure I really know myself but I’ll try to explain how and what it means to me.

I have never played the game. Growing up as a Catholic boy in Belfast in the 70’s meant that I went to a Catholic school. Going to such a school meant I never played rugby; it and cricket were regarded as ‘Protestant’ games in the sick society that was my homeland. I am told that nowadays things are much better, that my old school even has a semi decent rugby team. So be it, the fact is that in my youth bigotry prevented me from playing the game.

During my early years in London I went to a few soccer games, indeed I recall going to watch England vs Republic of Ireland with you in 1980. What eventually put me off this was the level of aggression I felt at some games. Whilst never personally caught up in any violence, I saw enough. At times I was in situations where I did feel very threatened. One particular experience in a tunnel at Putney Bridge underground station surrounded by swastika tattooed, skinhead West Ham fans particularly sticks in my mind. In the end I stopped going, it just didn’t feel comfortable. For quite some years I had no involvement with any sport.

Work took me to a corner of South West London. Even though my work later moved on, I settled there, in a suburb called Hampton. My house was about three miles away from the national rugby stadium at Twickenham. There was something about living in that area that sucked you into the game. Yes on match days the roads were snarled up and the public transport crammed but these supporters were different, they were friendly. On such days you would see supporters from opposing teams drinking together in the bars in the vicinity of the stadium. During a big game, in my local pub, the excitement was palpable. In fact it was a World Cup game between Ireland and Australia – which Ireland so nearly won - that finally hooked me.

Tickets for the big International games were like gold dust. I had managed to get to a couple of matches via corporate hospitality but mostly would be watching games with my mates in the local pub. TV is all well and good but there is nothing to match being at a live event. Eventually I decided to go to some club games. There were two local professional teams for me to choose, one was London Irish the other was a club called Harlequins (Quins). Initially I was going to go to Quins as they were the more glamorous club. They had a host of internationals playing for them including the then England captain Will Carling. I had also made a point since my arrival in England of avoiding association with any Irish clubs or societies. Whoever, wherever, in the world, I have an aversion to those who having settled in one country choose to get together in groups and talk about how wonderful the country they have come from is.

So how do I come to end up at London Irish? Well it was all the fault of some English friends of mine. When I told them I was planning to go to Quins to watch rugby they advised me against it. ‘London Irish is much more fun’, I was told, ‘Try it, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.’ Thus it was I found myself one Saturday afternoon down at Sunbury watching London Irish lose a game they should have won comfortably. (Some things have not changed much over the years). After the game I went, as you do, to the bar. The band started playing, a party got going, I was hooked. I recall thinking at the time ‘If they are like this when they lose, what on earth happens when they win.’

When I first tried to explain to Aly why the club was so special to me I said something like ‘Yes it’s a rugby club, yes the rugby is important but it’s not just about rugby, it’s a lot more than that.’ Suffice it to say she is now every bit as hooked as me, a season ticket holder and sponsor of one of our players.

Over the years I have become very much sucked into all things rugby in general and London Irish in particular. I have made many friends, some of those friendships I am convinced will last a lifetime. These people who variously let me stay in their homes (Or just use their bathrooms when we are on the boat). People who will pick us up from and drop off to the airport. People who run errands for me in the UK. People who share food and drink around freely in and around the stadium. They are the warmest, most welcoming, most generous, most kind and open, most downright wonderful, fun loving, bunch of people you could ever hope to meet.

In the end it is all about people, both within the club and throughout the wider rugby supporting community. Not one club, including our own, has perfect supporters. Every club has it’s ration of idiots but in general rugby folk are a wider echo of our own very special community. I have been welcomed around the world by members of this community, just as I know my branch of the rugby fraternity go out of their way to be welcoming to visitors be they from near or far. The word ‘family’ is often used, in many ways this is no exaggeration. I most certainly feel that London Irish is an extension to my family. It is a family I am happy and proud to be a part of.