Northampton - The lasting legacy of Wayne Smith?

By The Crusader
April 16 2004

The news is out and the Saints Nation braces itself once more for the inevitable news; next year will again be the first year of our annual rolling 5 Year Plan. We have rightly saluted Wayne Smith for his contribution to the club and wished him and his family farewell on their return home.

tend to be rather long on cynicism and rather short on sentimentality. Like Shane Drahm, I want to take four and a half steps backwards, two to the side, turn 45 degrees and one more to the side, then look up and assess where we have been and where I hope we are going.

First, I can tell you that the sky will not fall and the Earth will keep spinning. We have known that this was going to happen for weeks and weeks. If the volume of Black coursing through Smudger’s veins was enough to convince him that second fiddle to Graham Henry is preferable to Orchestra Director of the Saints, then only one course of action was open to him.

WAYNE'S CHALLENGE

It’s not easy bossing Northampton Rugby Club. Donkey’s years of achieving very little has never disillusioned the fans, and every September we are pretty certain that this time we will win it all - Zurich Premiership, Powergen Cup and the Heineken Trophy too.

That bolt-from-the-blue, who’d-have-thought-it, glorious afternoon in May 2000 has only served to fuel expectations and deepen subsequent disappointments.

Wayne may have felt that he was recruited to take the recent Euro-Champs to greater heights. In truth, he did not have that much to work with. Geech had not graduated from the Attila the Hun School of Management and with powerful personalities like Tim Rodber, Pat Lam and Matt Dawson on the pitch, it was time for a stronger hand on the tiller.

When Wayne Smith arrived, many of the talismanic figures, the Rodbers and Pagels and Lams and Brouzets, were going or had gone. Paul Grayson was mentally preparing for a coaching career and the new boys had yet to put their markers down.

This was not a team of All-Stars, waiting to be tweaked into magnificence. It was like any number of Zippee teams – a couple of world-class players, a few should-be’s, a few could-be’s, and one or two maybe-nots.

WAYNE'S LEGACY

So what was accomplished? I have to say I pondered this question rather longer than I should have.

In my judgement, I must mark the man highly for his development of player skills and above all for the standards and the tone he set throughout the Club. In team skills, there is still plenty of room for improvement.

When it comes to player skills, it is tempting to grant all the kudos to the player himself. But there is little doubt in my mind that Smudger created an atmosphere and an environment that encouraged players to flourish.

Let’s examine some examples.

Paul Grayson, of course. Mentally resigned to imminent retirement, Larry was going through the motions, playing in his sleep, arguably the most readable fly-half in the country. Wayne sprinkles a couple of handfuls of his Magic Dust on him and bingo, he’s a World Cup winner, he’s helping himself to twenty points and a try in the 6 Nations and Alex King is receding in his wing mirrors.

And who’s to say that Sir Clive would not have given him the nod, even if Charlie Hodgson had been fit?

Keep it in proportion! Paul Grayson didn’t turn into Jason Robinson overnight. But he did change from prospective pensioner back to potential match winner. And he knows it. Ooh Larry, ooh-oh! And that’s thanks to Wayne.

Rob Hunter. Going nowhere much when Wayne arrived. A bum full of splinters from sitting on the bench. Glad to be sent onto the field with three minutes to go to make his mark. Suddenly, he gets a sustained run in the team and finds something within himself that even he never knew he had. Gives 110% every time. Thanks Wayne.

Chris Budgen. The man looks like a sales sample from the Prop Factory. Spent a couple of years huddled next to Rob Hunter, just in case a front-row man had to leave the field for two minutes to have an ear stitched back on. Now he is pretty sure to get the second half and when he comes on, nothing less than the Man of the Match Award will satisfy him. He started as Gary Pagel’s Bloke from Birmingham and now he’s The Human Cannonball. Thanks again, Wayne.

These are just three examples. There are plenty more. Grant Seeley for example, or Steve Thompson last season before World Cup Fever diluted his adrenalin. Or Bruce Reihana’s surge of confidence.

Don’t ever doubt it – Smudger can motivate.

Bu perhaps his great accomplishment was the tone he set. Wayne Smith is a man whose principles have always been in the full upright and locked position.

The man created an ethos that permeated the Club from top (Uncle Keith) to bottom (us). Quickly and quietly, the lines of demarcation between the Stars and the others were dismantled. There was no God-given right to selection, no pecking order, no inflated egos. And you have to work with him. If you can’t make his meetings on time, you won’t be in the team. Be proud to be a Saintsman.

In tandem with this came a refusal to hide behind excuses or injuries or bad decisions. Get out on the pitch, do your best. If we win, that’s great and we can learn from it. If we lose, that’s down to us and we’d better learn from it.

Finally, he was a man who understood this is not just a team, it is a Club. Can you think of a single manager, Rugby, Football, Cricket, Hockey, Bobsleigh, Tiddlywinks, who ever worked so hard to embrace and include the fans? Whether it was replying to every e-mail or throwing open the doors to post-match briefings or welcoming fans to training sessions, Wayne Smith set the benchmark in public relations.

Sadly, as I write this, success on the field has eluded him. This does not tarnish his achievements, and the season is not over yet. But there is a big job still to be done.

So, sincere thanks to Saint Wayne, and Godspeed to him and Mrs Smudger and the Smudgelings.

And now, the warmest of Northampton welcomes to Saint Solly. Did they give you the Mission Statement yet?

Here’s Your Secret Mission

No doubt, Wayne Smith will get you up to speed on the squad, Uncle Keith will clarify what he expects for his money, and the concerted dreams and anxieties of the Franklin’s Faithful will hang over you like tropical storm clouds.

Two trophies in your first season would be good; three will be the icing on the cake.

Forget all that. It isn’t going to happen.

Well, we might win one of the beggars, but certainly not until you can fathom out how we can 1) win 90% of our own line-out ball and 2) drastically reduce the number of turnovers we concede on our opponents’ line.

But that’s not my territory. I’ll leave the skills analysis to Broonie and Ajack, Beef and Mark H.

I’m into the psychology and drama of it all.

So here’s where I want you to focus.

Between their bloomin’ ears!

Let me start with some history. In the last few weeks, the Saints have played four crucial matches, season-defining games; Agen away, Llanelli at home, Borders at home, Rotherham at home.

The Agen victory was a triumph of heroic defence. One moment of glory – a snatched try, then back to tackle after tackle after tackle until the whistle blew.

So our destiny was in our hands. We had to win. And we lost. There are those who will tell you that Llanelli were the better team on the day, that we were beaten by a freak try, that the ref was………etc. etc.

Horse manure!

If, at the start of the season, the gypsies had told us that in order to qualify for the European quarter-finals, we would simply have to beat Llanelli at Franklin’s Gardens, most of us would have bet the mortgage on a home win.

The wonder try knocked the stuffing out of us and we didn’t really believe the game was still ours to win.

Borders and Rotherham had a different plot. We needed bonus points against two gutsy teams, whose experience and technical abilities were no match for Northampton. This was not, like Agen, a test for our defence. This required sustained attack.

In both games, we won unconvincingly, with no bonus points.

Like an Agent Provocateur catalogue, the Saints look very good on paper. But all too frequently, we fail to turn that notional superiority into crushing victory. Now and then, we ride rampant over the opposition for forty minutes, only to find that the momentum goes AWOL in the second half.

My concern for the Saints is that the swagger seems to be missing. Rarely do the Saints strip the opposition, leave it by the side of the road and sell the parts for scrap.

For Saints to be a juggernaut next season, we must learn to assert ourselves and put teams away, ruthlessly and without mercy. Right now, despite being high in the table, I believe that too many teams in the Zurich Premiership have pencilled a star next to our name – “good chance of at least a bonus point” – and I would like to see that change.

So, Mr Solomons, let me make your secret mission clear. My life will not be ruined if we do not win a major trophy next season. The sun will still rise in the morning and set at night. It’s going to take you a full season to get the measure of this great Club of ours.

But grant me this small favour.

Just once in a while, when we get to play teams that we could and should beat comfortably, for eighty minutes can we please, pretty please, beat the Living Snot out of them?

Good luck and hang on to your hat! We are all rooting for you!

HAIL AND FAREWELL

I cannot close without a word about Budge.

What a warrior this man was. Neil Back got the plaudits and the recognition, but for my money Budge had just as much talent with none of the ego.

Always happy to put his nose where I am quite sure his nose didn’t want to go, the man was non-stop dynamism. Not content with ensuring every number 10 in the country was awake with the screaming hab-dabs the night before the Northampton game, he also created more turnovers than Delia Smith and managed to score some of the ugliest tries you could ever wish for!

Hard as a diamond, unrelenting, with a grin that would warm an Eskimo’s cockles; how rugby will miss this marauding buccaneer.

Thank God he has had the good sense to read the signals and get out before he did himself any permanent damage.

Thanks for the memories, Budge.