First of all, he was adamant that selection for the Lions was a great honour and hugely exciting for the young men of the day, as there were few opportunities to travel Down Under in 1930. Though they had a surprising amount of freedom—there was only one manager, no coaches and such training sessions as they did were taken by captain Prentice—the players were strictly controlled in one way, namely their finances. Each player was allowed to bring £80 spending money, which was handed over at the beginning of the tour to the formidable manager, James Baxter of the RFU. Players could draw their own money only by asking Baxter, who also doled out the daily allowance of three shillings per day—equivalent to 15p in modern money. Even that was paid in ‘chits’ of a shilling or sixpence at a time, as no money could be allowed to change hands for fear of breaching the professionalism laws. Meals and other costs were met from the tour budget, and of course, when they arrived at their destinations, the players rarely had to put their hands in their pockets—the hospitality of their hosts saw to that.
Players also had to bring a dinner jacket, as formal dress was compulsory for the nightly dinners on board the good ship S.S. Rangitata, which took five weeks to reach New Zealand, sailing westwards through the Panama Canal and across the vast Pacific Ocean. Some of the players had to rely on their clubs to provide them with their formal wear, as the tour party consisted of men from all social backgrounds, though all were apparently well mannered. Yet none of the tourists took the financial inducements they could have earned as Lions. Bowcott summed up their attitude years later, saying: ‘I would have given up rather than play professional. I would never have taken the money.’
Team selection on that tour was by a committee of senior players with at least one representative from each of the home unions, though Bowcott admitted that Willie Welsh’s strong Hawick accent meant no one could understand him—perhaps the reason why he played only one Test.
According to Thomas’s account of Bowcott’s memories while speaking in his eighties, there was one group of people who were not missed on the tour:
There were, thank goodness, no pressmen, which was a wonderful thing, for we could do as we liked without looking over our shoulder.
We were no better and no worse than the young men of today in our behaviour. We drank a bit and enjoyed female company, but we tended to carouse only after matches. Standards of behaviour were left to the individual. I will not say that the manager, Jim Baxter, could not care less, for he was a typical RFU man. It so happened they were all nice people.
Baxter was to play a crucial and highly controversial role on the tour. There had been reports filtering back to the home unions that New Zealand’s approach to the laws had become lax, and confirmation came at half-time in the very first match against Wanganui, when the home side insisted on a break of ten minutes and a cup of tea.
Baxter was apoplectic. The agreement between the Home Unions Committee and the New Zealand Union was that matches would be played under IRB laws, which clearly stated that no one could leave the pitch without permission and only in special circumstances. The home union gave way on that point, but did not kowtow to Baxter on their interpretation of the scrummaging laws which saw the All Blacks pack down in a 2–3–2 formation with two hookers up front and a spare forward known as a ‘rover’ who was used to put the ball into the scrum and savage the opposition half-backs on their put-in. That the rover just happened to be the All Blacks’ captain and best player, wing forward Cliff Porter of Wellington, who had also led the side on their 1925 ‘Invincibles’ tour, gave the New Zealand officials added impetus to defend their stance.
To be fair, the laws at that time did not state how many players should make up a scrum, and the All Blacks continued to use the formation and the rover forward despite Baxter’s accusations of cheating; accusations he extended to the New Zealand interpretation of the ‘mark’, which allowed the call to be made when both feet were off the ground. Baxter kept his most vehement condemnation for the appearance of All Blacks in advertisements, an early form of sponsorship that caused bitter arguments between the home unions and their southern counterparts for decades.
With a fine disregard for manners and convention, Baxter launched his onslaught at the post-match festivities after the first game against Wanganui. As Bowcott told Clem Thomas: ‘He slaughtered them in one of his speeches after dinner and one sensed that they became afraid of him.’
They were right to be so afraid. On his return to England, Baxter single handedly drove through a change to the laws so that in 1932 a three-man front row became compulsory, as is the case to this day. In a roundabout fashion, the British and Irish Lions had literally caused the laws of rugby to be altered. Some would say the change was not for the better, as the All Blacks reacted by creating a culture that was often too dependent on a rampaging pack as opposed to inventive backs. It worked pretty well for them though.
Off the field, apart from the rows over the rules, the touring party was hugely popular, and were much in demand at various official and unofficial luncheons and dinners. They made a particular hit when visiting a Maori meeting house in Rotorua, where some of the Lions were decked out in traditional Maori dress. A photograph of the occasion shows them looking mostly nonplussed at their apparel. As they made their way round the country, with journeys made mostly by train, crowds would turn out to see the Lions at every stop. There was simply no understating the demand for the Lions.
The 1930 Test series in New Zealand ended in massive disappointment after a cracking start for the Lions. Having lost only to the most powerful provinces of Wellington and Canterbury, the Lions arrived in Dunedin in fairly confident mood, and as always, raised their game for the full Test. A try in the final seconds gave the Lions victory by 6–3, and that after New Zealand’s George Nepia had hit the post with his conversion attempt following the All Blacks’ earlier try. It was the Lions’ first victory over New Zealand in a Test Match, but in one way the ‘All Blacks’ could maintain they were unbeaten—the home team had played in white jerseys to avoid a colour clash with the blue of the Lions. It was this shirt clash in particular that in later years saw the Lions switch to their familiar bright red jerseys, sufficiently different—especially in the age of colour television—from the black, green and gold colours of their traditional opponents.
Despite a valiant effort after playing most of the match with 14 men, scrum-half Paul Murray having dislocated a shoulder, the Lions went down 10–13 in the second Test at Canterbury, Carl Aarvold’s second try scored from 40 yards out being described as one of the best ever seen at that famous ground. With the series nicely poised at 1–1, the Lions gave the All Blacks a real fight in Auckland, going down by only 10–15, Harry Bowcott grabbing the opening try.
In Wellington, the fourth and final Test was watched by a record crowd for any match in New Zealand. Among the spectators was Lord Bledisloe, the Governor-General of New Zealand to whom the teams were introduced before the match. He clearly enjoyed his rugby, for the cup awarded in matches between Australia and New Zealand—which the good Lord presented the following year—bears his name.
The series could still be drawn, but at the end of a tiring match and exhausting tour the Lions wilted in the second half and the All Blacks ran in six tries in all, winning by 22–8. Despite their Test losses, the Lions left New Zealand with the praises of their hosts ringing in their ears, particularly for their sportsmanship and stylish play. Mr Baxter of the RFU was presumably not included in those plaudits.
The touring party then moved on to Australia and though they beat an ‘Australian XV’, the Lions lost the sole Test to the Wallabies in Sydney by the narrowest of margins, 5–6, and also lost to New South Wales. Such was their capacity for rugby, or maybe they just wanted a break on the way home, that the tourists played an unofficial match against Western Australia in Perth and ran up the cricket score of 71–3, a record points total that would not be exceeded for 44 years. As it was a ‘scratch’ match and did not figure in official records, Western Australia’s blushes were spared. Unfortunately for them, the blushes really did arrive