Grunting and groaning, mumbling and muttering, snarling and spitting, the sandpaper-like scratching of body parts best concealed from the light of day – as a rule of thumb, golden oratory is not part of the soundscape of a rugby dressing room at half-time.
So how did Jeremy Guscott get to speak like Cicero during the famous Durban Test between the Lions and the Springboks in 1997?
The prince of centres did well to make himself heard at all, given the Celtic-drenched torrent of Anglo-Saxonism gushing out of Jim Telfer, who could inspire aggression in a bunch of carnations when he was in the mood.
Yet Guscott somehow managed to interrupt the coach's flow and almost a quarter of a century on, at this important moment in the game's history, his words are worth recalling in full.
“If we worked as hard in attack as we are in defence,” Guscott told his redshirted confreres as he prepared for 40 minutes of action that would go a long way towards defining his career, “we'd $%!*ing wipe them off the field.
“There's no ambition in attack at the moment. We're just happy to go from one set-piece to another. We're not working any phases of play. We have to work twice as hard in attack. Defence is what we've worked on all this tour: it's in our heads, it's natural. We have to work some attack. Let's pop the ball on. If there's one person running and another person outside, let's $%!*ing use him. They're lining us up. Let's play some $%!*ing rugby.”
This sermon, recorded for posterity by the team filming the still-captivating Living with Lions documentary, was impressive at the time. Now, with even a player as skilful and imaginative as the current England fly-half George Ford arguing that possession of the ball is not all it's cracked up to be, it sounds like the Gettysburg Address.
Eddie Jones can say what he likes and usually does, but it is just a bit rich for the England head coach to take a public swipe at critics and commentators highlighting the grinding poverty of attacking play at both club and international level in recent weeks.
Why not go full Cleopatra on us and threaten to rip out the eyes of messengers who bear news he doesn't much like?
When Ford described the ball as a “ticking timebomb” that had to be booted away when defence rules the roost in the way it does now, he was speaking the language of anti-rugby –by no means a frivolous charge to bring against a player armed with all the virtues except size.
God knows, legions of No.10s have achieved fluency in that Orc-like tongue down the years. Precious few of whom proved worthy of seats in the pantheon and the last thing the game needs at this juncture is an individual as blessed as Ford talking himself into a state of terminal negativity.
One of Ford's predecessors in the Bath midfield, Olly Barkley, was similarly gifted: he had the full range of skills, he understood the game in all its shades of meaning and he had the confidence to try different things as and when they occurred to him. Just last week in this paper, his clubmate Nathan Catt labelled him “unbelievable – one of the best players I've seen”.
“The last thing the game needs is an individual as blessed as Ford talking himself into a state of terminal negativity”
Balance that assessment against a discussion your columnist had with one of the club's many recent head coaches, before a game at Worcester.
The said coach, a figure of international standing, had picked Barkley, right, as his starting No.10. On being congratulated for making such a bold attacking statement, he responded: “We'll see. He can do what he likes, so long as it works. When it stops working, he'll play to my plan or he won't play at all.”
If you close your eyes, you can hear some of the biggest names in modernday top-doggery saying something very similar. Maybe not to Beauden Barrett or Finn Russell – what would be the point? – but to just about everyone else. And as it happens, neither Barrett nor Russell, brilliant though they are, are current firstchoice No.10s on the Test stage.
Even more worrying is the likely link between the minimal-risk, maximally physical, tackle-jackal brand of union and the growing concerns over concussion and its bleak consequences.
The more teams are willing to sacrifice possession in favour of smashing seven bells out of opponents in pursuit of penalty decisions, the faster we will see genuine lovers of the game – players and supporters alike – wondering where the fun of it went.
Guscott's cri de coeur, delivered in the bowels of King's Park at the crux point of the first and most joyous Lions tour of the professional era, has resonated down the years. Right now, it means more than ever. For heaven's sake, let's play some $%!*ing rugby.
