Minding the family silver
YOU know what it looks like. You may have even had it in your own two hands. But a couple of men who roam the country have a better handle on the Heineken Cup than almost anybody else. Elliott Corcoran and Ian Fleming of Munster Rugby have other responsibilities, but a fair part of their day is organising the diary of the big trophy. As you might expect, it gets pretty full.
“We take bookings for it,” says Corcoran, “By phone and e-mail, for certain dates, times and locations. Mainly rugby clubs and so on, and we book in as many people as we can.
“Ian did it in 2006, it was part of his job. But when we won last year Ian was bagman for the Irish U20s at the World Cup, so he was away for a few weeks and wasn’t available.
“I did it while he was away and when he came back we helped each other out – if he was unavailable I’d do it and vice versa.”
Fleming was the original minder for the trophy. Munster Rugby chief executive Garret Fitzgerald asked him to look after it, and it came into his orbit pretty quickly.
“The way the professional game is,” says Fleming, “most of the players were heading away on tour with Ireland within a couple of weeks of winning the final, so they have it between them for the first couple of weeks.
“I had it then, and it was pretty quiet through the pre-season, but once the schools and the club action starts up again then the requests start coming in – prize-givings, openings, club dinner dances. We’ve been invited to weddings with it, but we don’t really do that.
“There’s very little commercial use of it, it’s there for club people and supporters. It’s the people’s trophy, not the players’ trophy – they’ll say that themselves, that they wouldn’t be where they are without the supporters.”
He sees a subtle difference in the attitude to the trophy this past year in comparison with its first arrival in Munster back in 2006.
“The demand isn’t as high this time round because, as I said, people think it’s the same trophy – “ah, I’ve seen that before’. They’re identical. People don’t realise it, a lot of them, until they see the two trophies side by side in Thomond Park.
“That was something we never did, sending them both out at the same time. You don’t want overkill. People really appreciate it and look on it as part of something they contributed to, whether they went to every single game, or none, whatever age they are. For all that my impression is that it meant more the second time round, that supporters enjoyed winning it a bit more the second time.”
The logistics of managing the trophy physically have changed as well. For Fleming it’s become easier – a case of hiding the trophy in plain sight, if you like. The days he wheeled around an easily-identifiable container have gone.
“We had a special case the first time round because the entire cup, including the base, was one piece, but this year the base is removable, so this one fits nicely into a gearbag. I can throw the bag over my shoulder and nobody knows the difference, whereas before people spotted the case a mile away. I could be on the train and nobody realises it’s next to them.
“I could meet up with people who know what I do and they might say “I suppose you’ve the Heineken Cup there in the bag’, and I’ll say “I have, yeah’.”
It’s not a chore for either Fleming or Corcoran. The latter explains the impact it has on people.
“It’s enjoyable, you’d forget because you’re around it so much yourself what exactly it means to other people. I’ve seen some old men cry when they get it in their hands.
“Some people can’t get around their heads the fact that it’s the actual cup, and not a replica. It’s the actual cup they won, which people don’t actually realise at times – it’s covered for a lot more in insurance terms than a replica would, for instance.”
And sometimes that insurance policy is on the thoughts of the minders. The sheer weight of numbers wanting to hold, touch, or lift the cup takes an inevitable toll.
“It gets a fair old battering,” says Corcoran. “If you look at the 2006 Cup next to the 2008 Cup there’s a fair old difference, though the “08 Cup is catching up at this stage. If a player takes it away for a few days there’s always a new dent anyway.”
Fleming adds that familiarity with the trophy is quickly established: “It’s funny, when you bring it to functions, you notice that after an hour or so people don’t even see it. They just walk past it.”
Although the duo put in plenty of miles, it’s well organised.
“There’s a way to plan it,” says Fleming, “That’s a part of my job – if the cup goes from Cork to Limerick, for instance, you’d make sure that if it’s needed in Charleville you could kill two birds with one stone.
“There are quiet days, you’re not on the road all the time, while the rugby development officers often take it for a few days to help promote the game.
“We take it out of circulation as the knock-out stages come in, but we keep it. It doesn’t go back. A new one will be played for this year. But this cup will go to Thomond Park, next to the old one.”
Fleming concedes the cup’s been invited to a few wakes – “We’re invited, but we don’t necessarily go,” – while Corcoran has a stand-out memory of an assignment last year.
“I don’t know about the most unusual place, there weren’t many, but I remember having to go to the Galway Races alright with Jerry Flannery last year. He was training, so a helicopter came down to the University of Limerick, where the session was on, and flew us up to Galway for the first day’s racing. Then about ten o’clock in the evening the helicopter dropped us back to UL. There were some kids hanging around there who were very impressed with our entrance.”
And . . . where is it actually kept at night? If you thought there was a lead-lined chamber in Thomond Park or a walk-in safe in Musgrave Park you’d be wrong, says Fleming: “More often than not it’s at home in my house.”
And where’s that?
“Pass.”
Come on, the man’s name is Ian Fleming. You have to have a bit of secrecy.





