BOOK OF THE DAY: Eddie O'Sullivan, Never Die Wondering – The Autobiography, Century, 316pp. £18.99
IT’S HARD not to have sympathy for Eddie O’Sullivan. In his time as Irish rugby coach Ireland won three Triple Crowns; more than they’d won in the previous 50 years. He was a bounce of a ball from the Grand Slam against France in Croke Park in 2007 until Vincent Clerc scored in the last seconds.
Yet he may be remembered by many not for these achievements, but for the shambolic World Cup in 2007, and the unconvincing 2008 season that ultimately undid him. If this is unfair, it is the way rugby has gone.
O’Sullivan may not always have been lucky (injuries, quirky referees) but he was fortunate to have at his disposal a supremely talented group (including, in Brian O’Driscoll, Ireland’s greatest player ever). It’s hard to say whether a different coach would have done better. Even his successor Declan Kidney (who graciously paid tribute to O’Sullivan in Cardiff when Ireland finally won the Grand Slam) acknowledged that the work leading to the Grand Slam had taken years.
The book charts O'Sullivan's early years as a player (Youghal, Garryowen, Munster and Monivea) and PE teacher. His first appreciation of the impact a coach can have comes while training a schoolgirl basketball team. O'Sullivan also recalls his time coaching in Blackrock, Galwegians, Connacht and Buccaneers (where he claims The Fields of Athenrywas first sung at rugby matches: Munster fans please note).
His experiences coaching in America alongside the colourful George Hook (“George was the car salesman, I was the mechanic”) leave their mark. The hunger for information in the US among players and coaches transmits itself to O’Sullivan, so that when he takes over the Irish team he persuades the IRFU to spend €125,000 on video tools.
O’Sullivan revels in analysis. His aim as Irish coach – which to a considerable extent he achieved – was to eliminate the “bungee cord” inconsistency of the team, insisting on performances and achieved goals rather than just results. His careful planning and attention to detail echo another Corkman, Roy Keane: “Fail to prepare, prepare to fail”. He’s canny also. Acutely conscious of espionage, in Scotland he leaves a set of bogus lineout calls behind after training, which disappears (Ireland win 36-6).
Contrary to perception, O’Sullivan insists he was not afraid to delegate. He may sometimes have been less skilful at man management. Wary of the media, O’Sullivan is uncompromising in the dressing-room, occasionally storming out, slamming the door on a dejected under-performing team (a mistake, he admits). He expresses huge admiration for the bravery and leadership of O’Driscoll, Keith Wood and Simon Easterby.
There is an asceticism about O’Sullivan (he spent two years training to be a Christian Brother) that was exactly what the Irish team needed after a sometimes chaotic regime.
Tetchy, obstinate, O’Sullivan abhors the back-slapping and beer-swilling, preferring the training ground and the video room. He recognises he can never be “one of the lads”. “I don’t want to be your friend,” he tells O’Driscoll when appointing him captain. “I want to be your coach.” Candid and intriguing, O’Sullivan’s voice rings true throughout this revealing book.
John O’Donnell is a poet, a barrister and an Ireland (and Leinster) rugby fan