Heckling Henson’s muppet show

THEY say all the world’s a stage and we all have a role to play — the role of the journeyman club player was quite an unusual one.

The All-Ireland League theatre may now be shorn of its headline acts, with the big names abandoning amateur dramatics for the Hollywood that is pro rugby, but in the AIL of yore, we journeymen trod the boards beside the greats, content with bit-parts and minor billings while they gathered garlands and glory.

As with Fortinbras and Hamlet, it was a case of same play, different stratosphere.

Thus, just as the forgotten character actor can recall every detail of the times he appeared alongside Olivier, Gielgud or Cusack, the journeyman rugby player hoards recollections rubbing shoulders with O'Hara, Galwey and Clohessy.

So, permit this journeyman to take you back to a time when Young Munster were the bogey-men of Irish club rugby, when mothers would terrorise their children into bed with tales of the dastardly denizens of a slaughterhouse which carried the misleadingly mild moniker of 'Greenfields'.

I recall, as a schoolboy, seeing a young UCC side lose 17-0 to Young Munster in the 1990 Senior Cup final a match which would have been called, in garda slang, a "kick sh*t" College did not play Munsters again for four years. Whether this was down to a kind-hearted fixtures secretary or pure fluke is not recorded, but those four years happily coincided with my time in UCC.

However, there was no dodging the Cookies in December 1995 when, as a member of the Dolphin troupe, we met them in the final of the Munster Senior League in Thomond Park.

Munsters were a superb outfit and had their big names on show but we journeymen played well and were unlucky to lose 11-8. Indeed, we would have been victorious had not our number eight knocked on when going over for a try... "Alas poor Eddie, I knew him well".

It was Eddie's only fluffed line in a fine overall performance, but it was a crucial one. As regards my performance, it began promisingly but withered away when a certain Young Munsters' forward (who shall remain nameless) delivered a line of devastating impact. The drama unfolded thus.

Imbued with a charming naivety, I had set about the Munsters' line-out in the first 20 minutes with scant regard for my own wellbeing. Young, dumb and energetic, I managed to secure all of our throws and had even pilfered a couple of the

opposition's.

Shaming of the Shrew (Act II Scene I):

Grey day in Thomond, Young Munster line-out on the halfway line.

Foolish Dolphin journeyman: "C'mon boys, I'm waiting, lob it in and let me catch it again."

Grizzled Munsters' legend: "You do that young fella, and you won't be walking off this pitch."

Foolish Dolphin journeyman: Exit stage left.

I did not actually vacate the pitch, but may as well have, so unnerved and ineffectual was I from then on.

That scene came to mind last weekend while watching Gavin Henson take centre stage and inspire Wales to their first win over England in Cardiff for 12 years.

He is no journeyman, but he needs taking down a peg or seven. It is hard to fathom this kid is he dense or just plain stupid? Henson is nowhere near the finished article that constitutes Brian O'Driscoll, yet talks as though he has 50 caps, two Triple Crowns and several

Lions tours under his, no doubt, studded belt.

He shaves his legs, assiduously gels his hair

before entering the fray and chooses to wear

silver boots because, get this, "gold does not go with the Welsh jersey".

It was also hilarious to watch him constantly glance up at the big screen during the game just to check if he was being featured.

Afterwards, when Welsh captain Gareth Thomas implored his men to quell their elation and focus on this weekend's game, Henson is said to have responded, "I can't skipper, my people will expect to see me on the town tonight".

The robust Italians will not afford him the same latitude England and the teenage Tait did.

Against Ireland, Persico and Bergamasco confirmed our suspicions that Denis Leamy was not ready for the role he was asked him to perform, and the Italian back row pair will relish the chance to getting stuck into the Welsh upstart.

I strongly suspect young Henson has had his day in the sun which, in truth, he scarcely needed, so comprehensively daubed is he in the finest fake tan the WRU can provide. The Bard, through the mouth of Polonius, has some wise words that Henson would do well to heed.

"Give thy thoughts no tongue, nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar" which roughly translates as "Gavin boy, cop yourself on".