INTERVIEW: GEORDAN MURPHYAlways breaking away from the mainstream, Geordan Murphy admits his soured relationship with Eddie O'Sullivan cost him many more caps for Ireland, writes GERRY THORNLEY

IT’S BEEN a dodgy genre of late, rugby biographies. In latter years they appear to have been rushed to print with indecent haste, so as to capitalise on a perceived window of opportunity. The Outsider, thank the Lord, is an exception to this trend. Bright, breezy, entertaining and revealing, the story of Geordan Murphy’s career also has a truly unique flavour, offering a different take on the era of Ireland’s Golden Generation, from a player who belongs in that category, yet coming from Leicester, where he has spent his entire 16-year professional career.

The Outsider is an apt title. From being a gifted outhalf on the Newbridge team which dared to elbow its way into the “elite” of the Leinster Schools Senior Cup by reaching the final in 1996, to being rejected as being “too slow” by an Irish schools selector who advised Murphy’s father to take him back to Naas and would climb the IRFU bureaucratic ladder, all the way through a 16-year professional career with Leicester Tigers, Murphy has never really been part of the mainstream of Irish rugby.

At the very least, Murphy’s career, and especially its early days, are a salient reminder that there was an elitism within the schools game, and that the IRFU did not have all its bases covered, while the attempts, such as they were, by Leinster, or more specifically the IRFU, to repatriate him circa 2001-02 were laughable, although there was a serious attempt three seasons ago by David Humphreys at Ulster.

A tad poignantly though, Murphy admits on page two of the book: “In green I’ve always been the outsider.” On page 43, he would reveal: “I am a different animal in a striped Tigers jersey.” Undoubtedly, his poor relationship with Eddie O’Sullivan did not help.

The Outsider, deftly written and neatly constructed by The Irish Times’ Gavin Cummiskey, is not a particularly bitter or vindictive book, but there’s little doubt most of Murphy’s criticisms are reserved for O’Sullivan and his “autocratic style of coaching”.

Other players thought highly of O’Sullivan as a coach, but compared to other biographies, it certainly gives another slant to the one-time Ireland coach.

“I tried to be reasonably fair but obviously being my book it’s going to be my opinion. I wanted that to come across as well. I didn’t want to character assassinate anyone but I think the general public in Ireland were pretty aware that me and Eddie probably didn’t see eye to eye, as were the media.

“That is something that I still get asked quite regularly even over here. ‘What happened between yourself and Eddie?’ ‘What happened between yourself and Eddie?’ I just think we were probably two very different types of people and I suppose ultimately it cost me more than it cost him, because he was the head coach.”

In The Outsider, Murphy recalls how their relationship soured from virtually the word go, as O’Sullivan took exception to a dummy and sleight of hand by Murphy in a training session before his first cap against the USA in 2000. The rift between the two also manifests itself humorously when Murphy revisits the 2004 Triple Crown coronation at Lansdowne Road following the victory over Scotland, when Murphy marked his second comeback match for Ireland following that broken leg in 2003 with a try.

“Eddie was down amongst us as we rounded the south terrace, arm in arm with his captain, just in case anyone had any doubt about whose team it was,” writes Murphy, who wasn’t the only player on the pitch that day to make that observation.

But following a row on the tour to New Zealand and Australia in 2006 Murphy admits their relationship was “pretty well over”, and conversations between the two were virtually non-existent despite Murphy’s on-off selections, save for one exception which Murphy later recalls after he came through the pre-2007 World Cup warm-up in Murrayfield.

“If you were in Eddie’s good books or he was in a good mood, he’d be your best mate. If you weren’t, he wouldn’t bother with you.”

There would be an irreparable parting of the ways which Murphy relives when he approached O’Sullivan at the side of the pitch during training in the fall-out of his missed tackle on Raphael Ibanez when, not for the first time, Murphy felt his coach should have been seen to stand by his player more in public.

Even so, Murphy would travel to the 2007 World Cup in France, and he gives a fascinating insight into that fraught and doomed campaign, beginning with the IRFU’s decision to award O’Sullivan an extension (with almost a year to run on his existing contract) until after the 2012 Six Nations, which he announced to his players shortly after a fortunate win over Italy in Ravenhill and just before departure to France.

“I’m sure a few boys were doing sums in their head. I know I was. Christ, I’ll be 33 by then. The room was silent. What did he expect, spontaneous applause?”

For the third pool match against France, Murphy was infamously dropped from the 22 by O’Sullivan after appearing as a replacement in injury-time for the unimpressive win over Namibia and being an unused sub in the fraught 14-10 win over Georgia. Gavin Duffy was named on the bench instead, with O’Sullivan not-so-subtly revisiting the Ibanez missed tackle by explaining that Murphy had form, and bad form, playing the French.

O’Sullivan also told a roomful of journalists that Duffy’s presence on the bench helped give him more options, even though Murphy had by then played in every position in the Irish backline bar scrumhalf.

“It felt like a spiteful decision rather than a rugby decision,” wrote Murphy, and he wasn’t alone in that assumption.

Retreating further and further into “a vicious circle” of a joyless, overtly intense, over-worked, almost paranoid campaign, Murphy deduces, from his reading of sports psychology, that Ireland simply choked and that when O’Sullivan “dug his heels in and refused to resign” he considered retiring.

Even when Murphy filled in for an injured Girvan Dempsey in the 2008 Six Nations, O’Sullivan goes on record before and after Murphy’s Man of the Match performance against Scotland to remind everyone that Dempsey is still first choice.

On foot of O’Sullivan resigning four days after the concluding 33-10 defeat to England, Murphy writes: “I’m no trouble-maker, but I never felt comfortable under his leadership. At times, he seemed to be strategising for his own self-preservation rather than focusing on the team’s best interest. His contribution to Irish rugby must be regarded as valuable but, in so many ways, he stunted the growth of a unique generation of players.”

By contrast, Murphy enjoyed a much better relationship with Declan Kidney, whose man management skills Murphy extols. “Unlike his predecessor, Deccie has always been approachable.” That said, Murphy clearly bears grievances over his limited involvement in the 2009 Grand Slam campaign. He also reveals his attempts to broaden Ireland’s attacking game in the build-up to the 2011 World Cup, which he felt were worryingly over dependant on Seán O’Brien and Stephen Ferris taking the ball up, fell on deaf ears or were resisted by Kidney and the rest of the coaching staff.

“I like Declan as a man manager,” he admits, “and I think it’s difficult internationally as well. You have short windows. Being coached by a lot of Australians (at Leicester) there are patterns they bring to the game which I was keen to do, but it’s tougher to coach that in an international set-up. We did have some patterns but they were just different to the ones I was used to.”

There is also an amusing thread of anecdotes which reflect Murphy’s generally easy-going personality, be it nights out with Irish or Leicester team-mates, barbecues at the Tuilagis, or an insight into the overly numerous and top-heavy management and playing squad on the 2005 tour to New Zealand, when Murphy is practising his kicking in the warm-up before a game. “Oh you kick?” asks Dave Alred, who was the kicking coach!

All the way through certain themes remain constant, a belief in his own abilities certainly, but primarily at fullback rather than on the wing or elsewhere, though there was no bitterness toward Girvan Dempsey.

There were also the physical frailties that required protection by his “minders” at Leicester but still led to a catalogue of injuries that makes his 300-plus appearances for Leicester and 70-plus caps for Ireland a monumental achievement, not to mention 13 major trophies, including seven Premiership titles and two Heineken Cups, which made it a stellar career.

Not least, there is the broken leg which scuppered his 2003 World Cup when set to announce himself to the rugby world, a couple of shoulder reconstructions, several hamstring injuries, a damaged retina, and the career threatening foot injury (a dislocation and two breaks) he suffered in 2010 which the surgeon said was more akin to a motorcycle injury.

“This is my 16th season as a professional rugby player and if you look at the stats, body shapes and body sizes are getting bigger and bigger, and obviously the hits are getting bigger and harder. Now most guys are wearing GPS units at games and they’re registering what hits are being made and it’s scary to see the way the game is going. But on the flip side of that as well is the science behind the game is improving a lot.

“We do less running and we train much smarter now, everything is monitored and the recovery and medical treatment is much better. I was back playing after my leg break in ’03 after five and a half months and in years gone by that would have had you out for two years or maybe you wouldn’t have played again. But it is scary the way the game is going.”

He ain’t finished yet. Murphy has retired from international rugby but is embarking upon what may be his last season as a rugby player and captain with Leicester. He feels good. He’s a had a full pre-season. “Just ticking along. It’s all good. If I’m fit at the end of the year then we’ll sit down and talk. The way I’m looking at it is that’s all bonuses. I’m planning on being finished in June, but I’ll see how it pans out.”

Beyond playing, he’s completed his level two coaching badge but has “nothing concrete” lined up. “Most of the things popping up now are rugby related, whether it’s coaching or playing at another level down for a year, or moving into the management side of it. I’m also sitting down a few people to look at things outside rugby.”

Overall, what regrets he has will be more associated with his Ireland career than his club career. “One of the things I try to get across in the book is that I consider myself very lucky to have achieved the things I’ve achieved. There are always what ifs and buts. ‘Would you have won more caps if you had come home?’ But there’s no real way of knowing and you just have to be happy with your lot. Certainly there were times when I probably didn’t play my best rugby in a green shirt and that was something that kind of disappointed me, but then again that’s just the way it goes. Although I was dropped a lot I kept coming back.”

Eventually, he’ll retire with plenty in the way of happy memories to help him sleep at night, and he’s happy with his one shot at a biography. “It’s a bit nerve-wracking when it comes out. You don’t want to offend too many people. I’m that type of person, so when you tell a couple of stories you wonder if people are going to be happy with it. But I’m glad I did it. The people who’ve read it so far are mostly my friends but they said they enjoyed it, that it was a good read and gave an insight. Yeah, I’m really glad I did it, actually.”

‘The Outsider’ by Geordan Murphy with Gavin Cummiskey is published by Penguin Ireland, in hardback, €24