The travelling McQuilkins

FROM the unlikeliest of beginnings and all that. Invited to become Bective's coach four years' ago, Noel McQuilkin ran the rule over his prospective employers in an end of season Leinster Cup defeat at Skerries. During it, a local sidled up and said he'd heard that the Rangers were getting a New Zealand coach.

"Really?" said McQuilkin in no rush to reveal hiss identity.

"Yeah, and Jaysus has he got his work cut out," ventured the Skerries man and walked off.

Too right, thought McQuilkin, and afterwards he informed Louis Magee that "it wasn't a coach he needed, it was a miracle". But he liked the club too much to have any serious misgivings. He's still here with his wife, Josie. His son Kurt, followed him out a year later, and, of course, he's still here too.

Progress was made with Bective, beaten by Old Belvedere in the Leinster decider for a place in Division Two in Noel's first season promoted from the new Division Three in the next, followed by two fairly solid if anti climactic Division Two campaigns.

By his and the club's admission, they probably went to the well once too often by agreeing to spend a fourth season together, Noel moves on to Greystones next, season, but Bective are praying that Kurt will, stay.

In their recent Cup defeat, to, ironically, Greystones, Kurt McQuilkin received a pass and, well, how does one put this, he spilled it. The Bective supporters were frozen in shock. No one could recall him doing this before. Genuinely, It was as rare as a bad game in Rangers colours: there'd simply never been one.

His virtues are manifest. He's one of those players who has an uncanny knack of being in the right lace at the right time. Gary Kasparov's computerised chess opponent, Deep Blue, is said to be able to calculate one billion moves per second. Kurt McQuilkin isn't in that league, but opponents sometimes must feel they're up against similar odds.

"The point being," says Bective's technical director Frankie Smith, "that McQuilkin - is like a chess player. He's nearly in the next move before it's happening. It's a big weakness that's around. Say out halves, when they pass the ball, they tend to watch their work. When Kurt passes the ball he always supports it".

His decision making support play and peripheral vision are what makes him stand out from the crowd. Typical of someone who derives more pleasure from putting a winger away than scoring himself, he never gives a pass when he shouldn't. A winger's dream.

Bective and Leinster team mates cannot recall him losing possession in the tackle. He could run into 10 opponents and still recycle the ball. Always a target for a flanker. "A wing forward's dream," says Charlie Quinn.

He's not, according to himself, "a flashy player, and I wouldn't profess myself to be a speedster". Were he a speedster, then he'd almost certainly have been an All Black. But now Noel is "probably more proud of him than if he'd played for the All Blacks. He's done it in a strange country and one of the few New Zealanders, I think the third, who's ever played for Ireland."

The two have travelled in tandem so often, from Tekuiti and Waikete in King Country to Bective and Ireland, that it seemed only natural to sit them down together in Kielys last Wednesday. Noel is great company. A deep thinker about the game with a hard edged, spade's a spade bluntness, who leans forward, smokes a cheroot, drinks a pint of ale and talks enthusiastically and interestingly about anything to do with the game.

Kurt, stretched back as if in his livingroom, is laid back. "We have our moments, like everyone else. If you're living together you're going to have your moments," he shrugs. "I would say I'm more of a diplomat." A notional outsider, he has gelled seamlessly into the Bective, Leinster and Irish squads. One of the lads, "an Irishman with a funny accent", says Charlie Quinn.

"He has never made an enemy," according to his, father, who you sense may have made a few along the way. But their thoughts on the game dovetail. "I would rather play badly and win than play well and lose, comments Kurt, to which his father quickly responds: "I've never heard of a thing in my life called a friendly, and I would say Keep It Simple, and win."

Very pragmatic, very New Zealand and inculcated pretty much from birth. Noel gave Kurt his first rugby ball when he was 18 months old, and he began playing property at four. Everybody played rugby in Tekuiti, a rural town of about 6,000 people, even the girls.

Saturday was the highlight, akin to a public rally, with rugby games from all ages, taking place continuously from 9.00 am to 4.30 pm. "You'd play for your school in your bare feet on the morning frost," recalls Kurt with a wince. "You didn't get boots until you were 12."

Kurt, initially a full back and later a first five eighths, followed the same career path as his father, local club Waikete and then provincial rugby with King Country. Both sides were coached by Noel.

Did he treat his son the same as the other players? "Probably harder," confesses Noel, which was fair enough by Kurt: "At the time it used to piss you off sometimes, but I think it's a good thing."

No doubt echoing sentiments of all fathers in similar situations, Noel explains: "I think when you've got your kid in the team he's got to be that bit better than anyone else to justify putting him in. Otherwise you're going to have people accusing you of favouritism.

Noel began forcing Kurt to kick with his left foot from the age of five; one of the rewards, many years later, was a match winning pair of drop goals of either foot against a Piopio side containing Murray Kidd. The two McQuilkins combined in a King Country side which won promotion to the top flight, beat Canterbury for the first time in their history and finished an historic sixth. Union bosses nervously envisaged the consequences of unfashionable King Country finishing in the top four and playing in the Super Ten, with the minor little drawback of not having an airport.

Noel was asked to put his name forward as an All Black selector, "but I didn't because I probably couldn't conform with what the hierarchy wanted."

KURT had pretty much gone as far as he could. Rugby is the passport to travel for New Zealand rugby players, and so after aggravating a knee injury following a season with Consett in Co Durham, Kurt linked up with his father again at Christmas three years ago.

Bective asked me if I'd like to play for them at the end of the season when my knee got better. I said I'd love to and stayed on. Then I thought I might as well sit on my arse doing nothing over here as over there.

They re a good bunch of lads and they looked after me well. The crack was great, as it's known for down in Bective, the good jolly Rangers. I enjoyed the first full season so I decided to stay on. I enjoyed that season, and I'm still here."

With no intention of going, Ireland is where he envisages, spending his future. An Irishman with a funny accent? "I can't help it if I'm from Killiney mate.

"The people are so friendly. I know it's cliched, but they're very much like New Zealanders. Even the countryside is like New Zealand."

Noel interjects. "If you went out to the hills in Wicklow and then closed your eyes, you would think you were in New Zealand, the south island of New Zealand, and I have always said the people of the south island are the friendliest people in the world. Incredible. And this is exactly the same."

Coaching in the schools - and the clubs around Wexford and Wicklow, which is Kurt's area of responsibility as development officer with the Leinster - branch, is like manna from heaven. "It's a job you don't mind getting up in the morning for."

There are frustrations, such as the weather ("wearing wellies to training"). There's the cost of living ("a pint back in New Zealand is about 80p", says Kurt, demonstrating a very Irish means of drawing comparisons. And then there's aspects of the rugby.

Noel McQuilkin is used to dealing with a pool of 20, 30 or more players of fairly even standards. No club can provide that here. "The attitude of players, to put that extra effort in, is hard to find here, whereas at home it becomes natural."

Both would like to see an altered points system at club level, with four for a win, two for a draw and one for a team which loses by less than six points. Uniform refereeing standards, outlined at preseason squad sessions attended by blocks of 20 officials, would greatly help matters, as would a more chronological, step by step seasonal structure from club to province to international.

Good "nitty gritty" forwards are hard to find, but there's more football in our outside backs "better steppers". Both detect significantly improved levels of commitment at Leinster level, and are genuinely upbeat about the national setup, where the Kiwi philosophy of "you've got to feel pain before you get any gain" is the new maxim.

"I think people probably, expect a bit too much too soon, says Kurt. "The structures that are being put into place with Murray and Pat, and John Mitchell and Ray Southam, they're going to take a while for it to bear fruition."

Theories along the lines of payment equals improved results are decidedly nebulous and, in some quarters, self fulfilling. Kurt reminds you that nobody felt more let down at letting down their country in the defeat to Scotland than the players themselves.

Pulling on the green shirt before the American game was more emotional than putting on a black jersey, because I know it's an adopted country and they've taken me into their team." Going out onto Lansdowne Road for the Scottish game made "the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The biggest adrenalin rush I've ever had. Highlight of my flippin' life mate, yeah." Beating France would top it though.

"Have a go," is Noel's advice for Ireland today. "Like the Scots did. Too many people, when France counter attack, are standing back. Get up in a line and knock 'em over. Contest every line out ball on, their throw get variations in, fellas up front and at the back, and contest it."

Kurt concurs. Speaking personally, I'm totally confident and with the new guys coming in, it's a good gamble. As a XV we have to front up to them, don't be intimidated. If they want to give it the old argy bargy, we have to be prepared to dish it out ourselves, not be physically intimidated by them, and stick to our game plan. We re going out there to win, no bull."

Spoken like a true Kiwi, by an Irishman with a funny accent.