Phil Vickery - Raging Bull (Rugby)

To Kate, Megan and Harry

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

I m the luckiest bugger in the world. Look at me - this daft bloody farmer from Cornwall and Ive travelled the world, been on two Lions tours, two World Cup finals (and won one of them), got an MBE and met the Queen.

Met the Queen. Me! Bloody hell. There I was, this chubby herdsman in a smart suit, standing in the Palace, surrounded by corgis, sipping tea and eating sandwiches without crusts. Whod have thought it? Not any of my school teachers, thats for sure. Not the guys I grew up with or the mates I went to school with. I dont think anyone who knew me when I was younger would have believed for one minute that Id end up at Buckingham Palace. Its been a hell of a bloody journey, from doing the milking down on the farm in Bude and kicking balls through Mums kitchen windows to having tea in the Queens house and meeting the Prime Minister. Its not all been great, Ill admit. Ive had some back operations that would make your eyes water just to think of them, but most of it has been amazing.

The reason its been amazing? Its because of the people Ive met. Daft buggers like me who play in the front row, getting their teeth kicked in and their ears bent inside out the real men. You make friends quickly when youre cheek to cheek with a bloke. You learn to respect someone when you see them operate at such close quarters and you know about commitment when youre staring into the eyes of Raphael Ibanez, Oz du Randt or some big bloke known as The Beast, and preparing to shove your head next to theirs and force yourself forward with every ounce of strength youve got. Its bloody great when you feel the scrum move forward and you know youve got them. One little power struggle won for you, one little fight lost for them. Best feeling in the world, and I bloody love it.

Mind you, its not so great in the mornings. I wake up some days after playing and everything hurts. Every muscle feels like its been smashed to pieces and Im sure I can hear them screaming when I try to move. Getting out of bed feels like the hardest job in the world. There are days when just moving an arm hurts so much I feel as if Ive been shot, but even in the worst moments I wouldnt change any of it. Even on the days after my horrendous operations when I was in so much pain I could hardly see straight, Ive never regretted a minute of my life as a rugby player.

Ive met some great people, been to some great countries and lived a life that most people dream of. Im very grateful to have been given the opportunity to do this. I am honoured to carry the dreams of millions when I run out in that white England shirt or the red Lions shirt. Its easy to say I feel privileged but I do. I feel as if Im the luckiest guy ever.

Ive had a hell of a career because so much has changed since I started. Things have happened during my time as a rugby player that have been astonishing to witness -like the game turning from amateur to professional as I was starting out at Gloucester. Im privileged to have experienced both sides of the sport.

One thing that hasnt changed is the commitment it takes to make it to the top. Theres a lovely phrase and I use it all the time If youre going to fail, die trying. Thats my motto. I believe you should fall at the last; dont cross the line coming second. Go for it. I know its easy to say, and it isnt about rugby or playing for England. To me, it says that, whatever you do in life, give it everything. Fight every problem to the death and throw your weight behind everything that means anything to you. Most of all, have fun doing it.

That philosophy worked for a tubby farmer from Cornwall who got to meet the Queen .

CHAPTER ONE:
THE BEST PLACE ON EARTH

C ornwall I bloody love it. Its a great place, isolated from everywhere and full of the friendliest people in the world. Its more like a village than a county - packed full of daft types who treat each other like one big family. I loved growing up there and hearing about its great history - all the myths and legends from times gone by, the stories about wrecked ships mysteriously disappearing, and tales of strange happenings that no one could explain or seemed to know where theyd come from. Theres something about the scenery down in Cornwall and the beauty of the place that inspires writers, poets and musicians and gets people telling tales. There were always famous people moving into the area when I was young, aiming to find creativity on the wide, golden sands, amongst the big cliffs and in the beautiful countryside. I thought I lived in the most special place on earth.

Im from North Cornwall, where the Atlantic winds come bursting in off the sea. I love the ruggedness of it all. It can be very bleak at times, very dark and moody, but very beautiful at other times. I love the fact that things dont change constantly as they do in other parts of the country. Things stay the same and the people stay the same. Its the place where I grew up, went to school and lived for the first nineteen years of my life - running around on Duckpool beach, diving into the sea and body boarding on the huge waves. Taking my bloody life in my hands as I surfed close to the cliffs, and loving it as the eight-foot swells threw me off my body board. Wed go fishing in the rock pools with Dad and Granddad and mess around on beaches that were so hard to get to from the cliffs that we had to ease one another down on these tatty old ropes wed found, none of us worrying about how dangerous the whole thing was, or wondering for a second how we were going to get back up again.

When I think back, I cant believe that we were allowed to spend so much time on the beach on our own, but it was a great place to grow up, close to the sea and close to nature. I tell my kids, Megan and Harrison, the stories of when I was a little boy, and it sounds so idyllic. There was something so lovely and adventurous about the freedom we had - life in the fresh air, enjoying long days and warm nights outside.

Im proud of being a Cornishman its in my blood. So its slightly odd that one of the first things I have to tell you about myself is that I was born in Devon! Before you think that makes me any less Cornish, Id better explain. I was born in Barnstaple, in Devon, because my family is from Bude which is a great little seaside town in North Cornwall, and the nearest hospital was just over the county line in Devon. But besides that, I am Cornish through and through.

I was born into a family of big, bulky dairy farmers, with Mum and Dad working on Killock, a 350-acre farm just outside Bude. The farm had originally belonged to my grandparents. Both sets of grandparents are farmers, so dairy farming really is in my blood, and theres no doubt that farming is what Id have ended up doing if rugby hadnt come along and cocked everything up!

My grandma and grandpa Vickery originally started off life in a place called Bagbury Farm, not far from us in Bude. Then they bought Killock Farm and split the cows between the two farms, making successes of both of them. I do look back and think: Bloody hell, how did they do that? Farmings a difficult business to make a success of with just one farm to look after, but managing to create two farms out of one like that takes some doing. They did it so that my dad, Barry, could be given Killock when he married my mum, Elaine, and his sister, my aunty Carol, could farm Bagbury.