Andy Farrell: John F Kennedy, Jackie Charlton, and the perfect blend of Schmidt
As the crow flies, Andy Farrell’s home town of Wigan has a clearer view of Dublin than that of London. Befitting of his roots that lie west of the Irish sea.
And now his youngest son Gabriel, enrolled in Blackrock College, is a visual representation of a return ticket for the Farrell clan.
A return home.
Even the passive Irish rugby spectator knows all about Owen, but the career of brother Phil is a tale less uttered.
Andy had twice won the Super League’s Man of Steel and captained Great Britain’s rugby league team at the age of 21. Phil, meanwhile, failed to make the cut at Wigan, slogging it out predominantly for Oldham.
If one career was basking in the glory of the chocolate at the end of a Cornetto, the other was fighting a battle against gravity and a melting 99, one that successfully culminated in a pitiful scramble to defy the five-second rule.
But that isn’t how the Farrell brain sees things. Phil went on to represent Ireland in rugby league. That achievement isn’t lost on Andy, even with an OBE amongst various medals and plaudits that have hardly stopped since he made his Wigan debut at 16.
You get your ice cream and I get mine:
“I was as proud of that as I was playing for England, because that’s (Ireland) where it all started for the Farrells.”
It was back in 2016 when Farrell joined this Irish set-up, initially as defence coach. Ironically, seven years later at this Coupe du Monde, that is where he and his team have drawn most plaudits.
Back then, he settled into the background under the guise of Joe Schmidt in a manner so typical of his character and so untypical of his influence.
It’s easy to forget that the second coming of Jack Charlton had been at the heart of what was viewed as an English rugby scandal back in 2015 -- a coaching capitulation wherein Stuart Lancaster’s men crashed out in the group phase.
The ruthless media across the water found their scapegoats and lambasted them. The knives were out, as Lancaster, Farrell, Mike Catt, Graham Rowntree, and captain Chris Robshaw each had salt rubbed into gaping wounds.
Ironically of those, or perhaps by design, it’s only Robshaw who hasn’t been tempted to reinvent himself on the Emerald Isle.
Roll back the clock and perhaps moving to Ireland was the easy choice for Farrell. Today it all looks part of a masterplan. He fits the bill like no other, a man in the ilk of another Irish hero away from home decades ago.
John F Kennedy’s words echo:
“We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard”.
Hindsight detracts from the pre-Moon landing days of imagination and defined impossibilty. Speaking to Gerry Thornley back in 2016, the vision was but a vision. So, why here Andy?
“I suppose there’s many reasons, really. Some sentimental things, some things where I need to keep pushing on and keep getting better, because that’s all I’m interested in really, having a career that is sustainable.
I want to keep getting better at what I do, and I feel this squad under Joe (Schmidt) is going to give me that platform to keep getting better.”
The headmaster has since departed the room and in his place has stepped the PE teacher that everyone likes and respects to the same degree.
He doesn’t just tell you. He asks, he listens, he responds.
A man of the people as the game edges ever closer to becoming a game of the people, even if it’s not the game.
The obsession with adversity is evident even in Farrell’s career, trading league and union. Indeed, Farrell’s second test for England was in Croke Park against Ireland.
If you don’t understand what it means to be Irish after that, then you never will:
"How they went after that game, getting the balance of the right emotion but at the same time, playing the game that was in front of them was fantastic in regards to the occasion and the crowd. I use that a lot.”
And that’s where the Charlton effect comes in. A no-nonsense approach balanced with charisma. Inhumane knowledge is masked by character and wit and immeasurable likeability. As one of Charlton’s endless handwritten notes read: “Be a dictator, but be a nice one.”
A smart arse may pipe up. Elaborate.
No problem. Andy Farrell has an answer. He always seems to have an answer:
“ ‘This is how it should be done’ and ‘this is always the way it’s been done, so therefore that’s how we win', that’s wrong in my opinion.
"You’ve got to be better than that. Having a no-excuse mentality has to be good for the strength of character, growing the strength of character. That’s the way it has to be, in my opinion.
"Show me a game where everyone is fit. What do you do? Feel sorry for yourself? That doesn’t get you nowhere because it’s never going to stop.
"Adversity is never going to stop.”
The thick Lancashire accent channels the Geordie of yesteryear. It channels an Irish team on the crest of a wave, and a public that don’t really know where they’re going, but they’re going along for the ride regardless. Full faith, full trust.
As described by the Second Captains' podcast earlier this week, Andy Farrell is a nation’s therapist. Our Irishness doesn’t allow us to be brash, or confident, or even believe.
But Farrell’s record against the All Blacks dates back to a famous England win at Twickenham in 2012. Throw in the Lions’ tour draw in 2017, (where again Farrell was defence coach) and five Irish wins in their last eight head-to-head meetings, and you might dare to dream.
In the opposition coaching box will be the man who changed the face of Irish rugby. Our desperate search for parallels will lead Saturday’s result to conclude that Joe Schmidt is the best coach in Irish history, or he isn't.
But that isn’t how sport works. New Zealand are driven by a first series defeat on home soil, while for Ireland there are the bitter memories of four years ago and beyond.
But even those memoirs of utmost relevance evaporate in the heat of battle.
The glass ceiling and the light at the end of the tunnel are shrouded by a team of men who don’t fathom the idea of losing in the quarter-finals. Not now, not ever. Darkness. All Black.
In the distant corners of fatigued Irish minds, there will be a man from Lancashire that holds a candle. In his tenure, the winds have blown and the rains have come, but still the flame burns true.
On Saturday night, in a green Stade de France, that darkness will come again. It may drench and howl like never before in a peaceful, cloudless Parisian sky.
We don't tend to do hurricanes in Ireland, but against all odds, you may find some respite in the eye of the storm.
That’s adversity. Or to Andy Farrell, bread and butter.
Joxer’s had his fill of Stuttgart. To Paris.
