I will be eternally grateful to 'The Judge'

Paul Rendall, the great England prop who took me under his wing when I started my international career in the front row, sadly died on Tuesday at the age of 69. Of course, I knew Paul as ‘Judge’, and will always be grateful for the way steered me through my first steps in Test rugby. I was lucky enough to speak about Paul at a charity dinner earlier this year, which came after his diagnosis with Motor Neurone Disease in 2022, and to pay tribute to my former team-mate and a great friend, I would like to share that speech with you.

I thought penning a few words about Paul Rendall would be a relatively easy task. What could be difficult writing about one of rugby’s most colourful characters, a man whose career spanned the very amateur to the nearly professional?

I’ll tell you what the problem is – making things defamation-proof. Oh, and telling stories that don’t offend modern decency.

What sort of room-mate was the Judge? Well, that’s a bit difficult given he was hardly ever in the room until I was long asleep. I suppose I should be grateful that he wasn’t like his Wasps’ soulmate, Jeff Probyn, who would wake you up by watching Muppet Babies at 4am and then make tea solely for himself.

What sort of a player was he? I’d say Judge was a cynical modernist – he did all the new stuff, like plyometrics, but complained that it was b------s throughout. However, when it came to the basics of his job like scrummaging and lineout support [you weren’t supposed to lift in those days] he was almost peerless and a knowledgeable technician. He could handle the ball, that is when he caught up with play and, like all props, would assiduously practise his drop-goals before training started and without the slightest thought of stretching before he did so.

Judge’s place was taken by the definitely peerless Jason Leonard, and if Judge harboured any ill-will, which would have been entirely natural, he never showed it. I think Jase endeared himself to the great man by asking him ‘Ere, Judge, how comes everyone has a nickname but you?’

I was lucky to have some very good, if not great, props in my club and international career and I will always be grateful to the Judge for looking after me when I was a callow Test player. You never saw Judge throw punches, you just knew he had done so, when that wicked grin flashed across his face, accompanied by the ubiquitous, and equally nonsensical phrase ‘Ooby-dooby.’

I suppose many will remember him for his wit and repartee in the bar and that was rightly the stuff of legend – if only I could remember more of it.