The Hardest Test (5 page)

Chapter Thirteen

2001 brought a second chance for me as far as the British Lions were concerned. I'm immensely proud of the fact that I stuck to the vow I made in 1997. I'd set myself that goal and overcome some pretty huge obstacles to get there and be selected.

Not long into my second spell at Llanelli I had found out that rheumatoid arthritis had set into my left knee. This made training and playing extremely difficult. I was pretty much told my days were numbered. Of course I was in no way ready to accept this. I had some unfinished business to attend to.

I was fortunate to have coaches such as Gareth Jenkins and Graham Henry in place at the time. They understood my problem and were prepared to look at different training regimes and programmes to keep me going in the game.

I also can't thank David Jenkins, Hywel Griffiths, and later Wayne Proctor at Llanelli and Mark Davies the Wales physio, enough. They knew what it took to keep my fitness up to standard whilst re-habilitating the knee.

I spent a good deal of time in the pool, working with Peter Herbert who'd looked after my knee before. There was also good advice from Wales colleague Rob Howley, who recommended silicon injections which allowed me to run and train harder. The skill and care shown by these people extended my club and international career.

I have no doubt that without them there was no way I would have become a Lion again.

Before I knew it I was in Brisbane with the Lions and 35,000 British fans. Graham Henry was in charge and I was more than glad that he'd brought Wales fitness coach Steve Black with him. Blackie too was sympathetic when it came to training and he knew exactly how to get the best out of me while taking the pressure off the knees.

I remember being at the team hotel before the first test. My father rang to say he was on his way over to collect some tickets I had for him. After we met, I decided to walk back to his hotel with him, just to get away from the rugby environment for a while.

Little did I know what would face me as we walked into the lobby of the hotel where he was staying! The first person I saw was ex-Wales fly-half Jonathan Davies signing in at reception. Then there was Llanelli legend Phil Bennett sitting chatting to a group of fans from Felinfoel. Next I was called over by a gang from the snooker club back home where I'd regularly call in for a couple of pints after a game. It was hard to believe. Even my Dad's old mate Dai Twin, who I hadn't seen for years, was there; he'd flown over from Hong Kong to follow the tour. It was like walking into a hotel in Llanelli. Wonderful and surreal at the same time.

I'd been trapped in a bubble for weeks. Seeing all the familiar faces brought me down to earth. It relaxed me and I managed a good night's sleep before that first test.

Graham Henry had asked Willie John McBride to hand out the jerseys to the team the next day. McBride had toured with the Lions an incredible five times. He holds the record of seventeen test caps. He also captained the most successful Lions side ever which toured South Africa in 1974 and won the Test series 4–0.

His speech was so rousing it sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it now. He told us about the passion of the Lions and what the jersey meant to him. Then he started handing the jerseys out. It was a magical feeling to hear your name called. He seemed almost reluctant to give each jersey away and I'm sure he'd have played in that first test himself if he'd been given the chance. To shake his hand and look him in the eye was almost like seeing a transfer of power from him to you. When the presentation ended I think we'd have killed for him and that jersey.

The Gabba in Brisbane is a strange old venue for rugby. It normally hosts cricket, so it was odd to see the rugby pitch plonked in the centre of this giant oval.

We warmed up inside, nerves jangling. Captain Martin Johnson said a last few words, but I don't think any of us needed any more motivation. It was wild running out on to the field in front of so many British and Irish fans. They apparently outnumbered the Aussies three to one.

The game kicked off at a ferocious pace with Jason Robinson going over in the corner. Howley was immense throughout the game at scrum half and Brian O'Driscoll showed the Aussies just what all the fuss was about. I even managed to get over from the base of a ruck to score myself. By that time we were up 29–3!

Lots of people still ask me about that try. Well, not so much the try itself, but the nod I did after touching down. They say it's one of their enduring memories of that tour. All I can say is that it was a bit of a personal sign. There, with the ball under my chest on the Gabba turf I'd finally achieved my goal. Everything had come together for me. More than that, it had taken over two hundred and fifty people to achieve that goal. That nod was for all the medical staff, coaches, fellow players, friends and family who'd been there for me when I was down. Without them none of it would have been possible. It was no longer just a personal goal.

We went on to win the game 29–13 but were to lose the series 2–1. All the same, Australia 2001 will always be the stuff of dreams to me.

Chapter Fourteen

It was 2005 and the Llanelli Scarlets were due to face Cardiff Blues in the Arms Park. My knee had been troubling me quite a bit in the run-up to the match. By now it was so problematic that it would just lock completely. Things weren't looking good, but we had some of our internationals away in camp and it was a game we needed to win. I decided at least to give it a go and see how long I could last out. It was to be my last ever competitive game.

At the final whistle I came off the field with my wrist in a lot of pain. It turned out I'd fractured my scaphoid, an injury requiring six to eight weeks out of the game. Between that and my knee it was clear the gods were trying to tell me something. Perhaps if I'd pulled out before the match I might have lasted the rest of the season, maybe even another.

But I was never to pull the scarlet shirt on again.

After I retired, the WRU were kind enough to offer me the use of the Millennium Stadium for a testimonial match. I would share the event with Rob Howley, who had also been forced out of the game because of a wrist injury.

The plan was that Rob would put together a World XV, to play a British and Irish XV selected by me. The response from the players was magnificent. Big names like Bobby Skinstad, Mick Gallway, Jason Leonard, Joost van der Westhuizen and even footballer Ally McCoist all volunteered their services.

A few days before the match Stadium Manager Paul Sergeant called Rob and me in. He said he'd had a great idea for our entrance into the stadium. I imagined being driven in on golf buggies or on horseback. Then Paul hit us with his big idea. He suggested we absail from the roof. Rob and I looked at each other in disbelief, but before we had the chance to say anything Paul said, “Good, that's sorted then.”

Before kick-off, both sides lined up on the halfway line and waited for our entrance. Fireworks went off and we began our descent. It's the first time ever I've been quicker than Rob at anything. Before I knew it, I hit the turf of the Millennium Stadium. I don't think that patch of ground has been right since!

The match itself was an absolute joy. It was great because I got to play on the same side as both my brothers, Craig and Gavin – the only time ever all three of us have been on the same side.

We'd arranged something even better for the last two minutes. My father, who had been team manager, and my son Steele, who was six at the time, came on to the field. It was an extra-special moment. There we were, five Quinnells, all on the same side, all wearing number eight.

We packed down for a scrum on the 22 metre line for the last move of the game. Kieran Bracken fed the ball, my father picked up and passed to Alex King. Steele, who up 'til now had shown little interest in rugby, had positioned himself correctly and took a pass from King. He ran toward the try line, only to be faced by the mighty frame of Salesi Finau.

The Tongan, 5' 10" tall and 5' 10" wide, tried to get out of the way but couldn't. If I'd done what Steele did next, I'd probably be still be playing now. He looked up and passed straight to Finau, who, panicking, threw it straight back. My father and I together picked Steele up and carried him over to touch down and score.

I think after the match Steele signed more autographs than any of us. It was to be the last time I'd ever put my boots on for a match. It was so good to be able to share that moment with my family.

Chapter Fifteen

At school, rugby had been my salvation. It was something I could do which wasn't hindered by my learning difficulties.

It's interesting when I look back now, because I can see the ways in which I consciously and unconsciously dealt with my problems through rugby.

Of course, it helps if you're doing something that you are interested in. Since leaving the game, I've met so many people with learning difficulties who are immensely talented in different fields, whether it be music, art or sport. Like me, they all found an interest and pursued their goal. Many were diagnosed early and coped with their problems whilst focusing on their interests.

But so many have similar stories to mine. Their schooling was a time when they felt completely isolated. Like me, they found solace in the things that interested them while their education suffered.

In rugby I quickly learnt that any lapse in concentration could result in me getting my head knocked off. That's something that has helped me focus a fair bit! On the park I found it helped to break the game up into small sections to allow me to concentrate on one phase of play at a time. Sometimes it would help to play from whistle to whistle, although this very much depended on who was refereeing the game that day. An open, flowing game might be great to watch, but played havoc with my concentration levels!

As soon as one phase was over I wouldn't dwell on it. Once finished I knew I couldn't affect what had happened, so I cleared it from my mind. Then I would be fresh for the next phase.

As I moved on and the game became more professional, I found myself in team meetings and the like. Unlike at school, I made sure that for these I was right in front. Maintaining eye contact with the coach whilst he spoke helped me to avoid drifting off.

In the latter years at Llanelli I was required to keep a diary, recording my diet, exercise and general thoughts on the game. This was left to Nicola. In rugby as well as outside of it I had support. At Llanelli, if, after a group discussion between the forwards, things had to be written up on the board, Robin McBryde was magnificent. He understood, and would do it for me.

When I had a go at coaching Llanelli after retirement, I was sure never to put myself in a position where I had to write on a blackboard during team talks and training sessions. I was fortunate that the other members of the coaching team, Sean Gale, Kevin Williams and Neil Boobyer, were aware of my problems and stepped in for me.

But as amazing as they were, I guess they were also helping me to hide from my problems.

Rugby had been my ultimate coping strategy, helping me hide from the reality of my learning difficulties. I'd had the humiliation of fans throwing autographs back in my face when I'd spelt names wrongly. But on the whole, I'd coped pretty well. I'd forged a career for myself despite my problem.

Now, out of the game, the reality of my learning disabilities came to the fore. I'd relied so much on others, especially Nicola, to deal with the everyday bits and pieces – paper work, filling out forms etc. Right from week one of our relationship I was asking her to do things like write cheques for me.

I was now pretty much a full-time family man, with all the responsibilities that brings. I was faced with the prospect of making a life for myself and my children outside of rugby. This would involve being invited to make speeches at dinners and presentations, working as a rugby pundit – how many sleepless nights would they bring!? The business world ran on the internet and e-mail – I couldn't even write notes for school for the kids. Nicola deserved a break, too.

Worst of all, we both had to face up to the reality that the kids had begun to show signs of learning difficulties.

The idea that I might be dyslexic had first come about completely by luck. It was back when I was about twenty-one and Nicola, who was an excellent typist, had offered to copy up a handwritten thesis on learning difficulties which her friend had written.

I remember her calling me into the room as she worked. She began to reel off a list of dyslexia symptoms and, to our amazement, I ticked every box. It was all there. The answer (if not the cure) to what had caused me years suffering at school was contained on this one sheet of A4 paper.

Had we acted on it then, who knows how my life would have turned out? But I was so focused on my rugby career at the time I didn't give it much thought. I think deep down, too, there was that fear of being labelled. All the clues were there, but I never allowed myself to be tested for dyslexia officially.

I had now begun working regularly for Sky television as a rugby pundit. In the TV studio before a match I got talking to fellow pundit and ex-Scotland international Kenny Logan. Someone had brought in a piece of paper and Kenny asked me if I'd read it. “You're kidding,” I said, “I'm dyslexic.”

Kenny couldn't believe it, and began telling me about the problems he'd had with learning difficulties. We realised we had quite a lot in common. He told me of this treatment he'd just gone through called the Dore Programme. His wife Gabby Logan had seen a programme about it on TV and they'd signed up. It sounded bizarre. It involved beanbags and wobble boards, pretty unorthodox stuff. But Kenny sang its praises. I decided there and then to pursue it. Perhaps it was too late for me, but hopefully the kids would benefit. I didn't want them to go through what I'd gone through at school. I wanted them to have the opportunities to learn and enjoy that I never had. Kenny passed the number of Wynford Dore, the programme's founder, on to me and I rang him the first chance I got.

I explained to him that I wanted to put the kids through the programme and I told him about my experience of dyslexia. Wynford suggested that it made sense for me to go through the programme, too. I agreed. If I wanted the kids to progress, the least I could do was show willing and go through it with them. It was time I faced my demons.

In January 2006, we all went to the Dore Centre in Cardiff to be tested to see if the programme was suitable for us. I was diagnosed as severely dyslexic. My problems were a lot worse than Lucy and Steele's.

One of the key tests was for balance. I learnt that with learning difficulties like dyslexia and dyspraxia, things like co-ordination and eye tracking as well as balance are affected.

‘Learning difficulties' suggests problems with reading and writing. It's difficult to make a connection between those and physical activities. But the exercises would work on the cerebellum, the part of the brain which processes information and makes things automatic.

This began to make sense. I had always become easily tired when reading and writing. When I thought about it, I could see how my dyslexia left me having to concentrate much harder just to do simple tasks because nothing was automatic. These were skills that most people take for granted. Obviously my poor eye tracking had been responsible for the way in which my eyes would skip around over a page.

I stepped onto the machine which tests your balance and fell off instantly. I'd been playing rugby since the age of eight – I would never have thought balance would have been a problem.

When we got home and started the exercise regime, Nicola was as sceptical as I had been. I guess it's hard to take sitting on Swiss balls and throwing beanbags in the air seriously as a treatment at first. But when you get into it, you realise how tricky the exercises are.

As I had done with my rugby I began to really apply myself to the routines. I was away a lot with work and had to be sure to take the equipment with me. To get the best out of it takes real dedication. I had to be strict with myself as well as with the kids.

A BBC film crew asked if they could record my progress throughout the year, and I was more than happy if it served to raise awareness of learning difficulties and help people to recognise what people with such problems go through.

After about six weeks Steele was keen to try riding his bike again. It had been heartbreaking to see him fail on his previous attempts, when all the other kids his age were cycling around. I tried to dissuade him, telling him to wait a little while longer, but he was adamant.

I held the seat as he rode. I let go after about ten yards. In disbelief I watched Steele continue, thirty, forty, fifty yards. “Dad, don't let go,” he eventually shouted. “What do you mean?” I said. “I'm back here.” He had no idea he was on his own.

I've played fifty-two times for my country but never been as proud as I was that moment. That day proved to me that the programme was working and it gave us all the belief to push on.

That summer we were on holiday in Lanzarote. At the airport on the way out I bought a couple of books. I started reading the first on the plane and to my amazement I finished it after three days. By the time the week was over I'd read both. I can't begin to express how this made me feel. It's something that most people take for granted. I'd never before managed to get through a book. My eyes would start to hurt, or I'd give up because the words would jump all over the page.

Over the next few months I read more and more and even began going on the internet and writing e-mails myself for the first time. It was an emotional time as I began to realise all the things I'd missed out on over the years. But at least I knew that my children wouldn't be missing out.

They too were progressing all the time. They brought their school reports home and sat with me as I read them. Just to think – when I was at school I'd do all I could to hide my reports from my parents! I couldn't believe the change. They had both improved in all subjects and the teachers were amazed with their progress.

I could see them coming out of themselves, too. They had always been happy, but they were really starting to grow in self-esteem. It was a great feeling for the family as a whole.

When I returned to Cardiff in the December for my last test I wasn't prepared for the results.

I'd begun the year in the lowest 5% for reading and writing. I was now being told I was above normal in those areas. I broke down. I had excelled at rugby. I was used to being patted on the back and congratulated for things I'd done on the field. But this was something new. I'd gone through school being called a failure, so much so that I'd begun to believe it. Now I was being told I had succeeded. I had overcome dyslexia. I never thought it would feel so good to be normal.

Today I'm asked to do as many talks on my experiences with learning difficulties as on my rugby career. For the first time ever I actually enjoy going to school, where I speak to the children. It's been a remarkable couple of years. I now represent the Welsh Dyslexia Project. I am keen to share with people what I have been through and to spread the message.

I had suffered so much growing up thinking that I was alone and my problems were unique. Now, wherever I go I'm stopped by people young and old, from all walks of life, who have gone through similar experiences. It's important for people to know they don't need to suffer alone. I hope that in publicising learning difficulties and the remarkable Dore Programme, the lives of others can be changed completely in the same way as my and my children's have.