Great Welsh No 10S

An analysis of the contribution of 32 Welsh rugby Number 10s who were selected for their country between 1947 and 1999. The list includes Carwyn James, Barry John, Phil Bennet, Neil Jenkins and many more. ~Publisher: Y Lolfa

Hidden deep in the Welsh Valleys there once existed a secret factory that was jealously guarded by the local population. It was no ordinary factory. Its products were the envy of every rugby nation in the world for, according to Max Boyce, its conveyor belt produced outside halves.



Welsh rugby Number Tens have enjoyed a unique status. They can be mentioned in the same breath as laver bread and corgis. They are uniquely Welsh. So exclusive were these Number Tens that the great cartoonist Gren named a town after them, Aber Flyarff. These amazing creatures, once as common as stray sheep, now as rare as unicorns, are the focus of Lynn Davies’s latest book. He includes no fewer than 31 Number Tens, ranging alphabetically from Cliff Ashton to Bleddyn Williams, and chronologically spanning fifty years from Billy Cleaver to Neil Jenkins. The Number Ten, as stated on the back cover, has always fascinated the Welsh rugby-loving public. It was a position that was synonymous with the Welsh way of playing. It was always the Number Ten who held the licence to thrill.



This is a book that will undoubtedly rekindle many an argument over a pint at the club. Who was the best? Was it Phil Bennett or Cliff Morgan? Was it Barry John or Dai Watkins? My hero, for what my opinion is worth, was the twinkle-toed little maestro from Felinfoel. He of the delicate touch could have extracted a mote from a baby’s eye with his big toe. Phil, incidentally, holds the record as the first ever replacement to appear for Wales in an international match – but on the wing.



The cover is graced with an action shot of ‘King’ Barry John, another candidate for top man. He is described as the first superstar of rugby, comparable to soccer’s George Best. And Jonathan Davies, described by Jacques Fouroux as ‘the Maradona of rugby union’, is said by Clem Thomas to have played behind the worst pack in living memory, meaning he was up there with the very best.



Today, however, we have to make do with nostalgia. In his introduction, Davies mourns the demise of the great Number Ten. Yes, ‘They’ve cracked the mould of solid gold that once made Barry John.’ The patent that founded the outside-half factory is now redundant. They are, alas, not needed in the modern game. But by heck, they were great days while the conveyor belt rolled. ~Lyn Ebenezer @ www.gwales.com