by If ever life was sadly copying art it came this week. There was a disaster this morning / When a friend hit a fitter named Ron / The mold of solid gold was broken / Barry John once did. Welsh rugby legends are dwindling in numbers and driving up the Rhondda Valley to meet the country’s beloved bard Max Boyce feels like a pilgrimage on behalf of an entire nation.
No one has described what it feels like to be a fan in Wales better than Glynneath’s favorite son. A statue has been erected in their honor by two living Britons and even Sir Gareth Edwards – “He’s in, I’m out in the rain” – knows where it is. Last year, when BBC Wales celebrated Boyce’s 80th birthday with a special tribute show, actor Michael Sheen upstaged him when he claimed he was “lying on an understanding of Welsh”.
Related: The Breakdown | Farewell to Barry John, the rugby-playing fly half from another world
How about this still-perfect picture, for example, of the mood of the day in Llanelli before the 9-3 win against New Zealand in October 1972. The shops were closed like Sunday/ And the streets were still silent/ And those who chose to stay out/ Were dead or sick. Or the classic lines after Britain’s 1999 victory over England in London. We said goodbye to Wembley and this foreign climate. Next year we’re back in Cardiff – if they finish it in time. They say it has a sliding roof that they can move away from. They will slide it back when Wales attack so God can watch us play.
If Max says so, it must be gospel. At its peak it was No.1 in the UK album charts in November 1975, ahead of Elton John and Roxy Music. It is likely that another series of sold-out concerts will be held in Cardiff this year. Which makes it all the more incongruous to find him in his wife’s car at RFC Glynneath, waiting to be offered a lift – “I’ve written about The Neath Guardian before…” to a friendly local eatery.
Lunch with Boyce in these parts is like walking into a cafe in Liverpool with Sir Paul McCartney. The menus have barely arrived before his stories begin to flow. Like the time when the superhero, JPR Williams, playing for Tondu in his 50s, suffered a bad cut and had to be stitched up by a Glynneath paramedic. “It’s a big story, he went home and framed the sponge.”
Then on Saturday he went into the hospital for four hours of life-saving heart surgery. “It was the same day Wales were playing a Test in South Africa. I survived eight operations and my surgeon in South Africa says: ‘I have good news and bad news.’ I said: ‘Give me the bad news first.’ He said: ‘Wales are losing 14-6.’ ‘Okay, what’s the good news?’ ‘They are playing much better in the second half.’”
Ah, the golden oldies. Even those of us who grew up in England have his lyrics etched on our consciousness. Somewhere out there, just over the hill, is his famous Factory Outside of Half Head, flags at half mast. As England head to Twickenham on Saturday, however, their boss is not about to discuss the modern productivity of the assembly line. “It’s classified. We can’t say too much at the moment.”
By now her chicken wings have arrived and we’ve gone back to another age. Boyce’s father died in a mine explosion a month before Max was born and his son also spent time creating characters down the mines. One evening, however, a producer from EMI spotted him making up as a support act for Ken Dodd and the rest – ‘Oggy. Youth. Oggy.’ – it is history.
These days Max is a staunch fan of Peter Kay – “He’s a very good storyteller” – but back in the 1970s his brand of humor was popular. “We had 20 million viewers at one point … more than Coronation Street. There were only two TV channels and if there wasn’t much on the other side you got me.”
To his surprise it went viral during Covid, thanks to a poem called When Just The Tide Went Out. And one dream I’ll remember as the stars fall, Was Banksy painting Alun Wyn on my neighbor’s garage wall. It’s no wonder that the Welsh Rugby Union is keen to make the Principality Stadium more nostalgic. All together now: And we were singing Hymns and Arias, Our Father’s Land, Ar hyd y nos.
The unofficial national anthem of sport has never been sung more loudly than 25 years ago at the opening ceremony of the 1999 World Cup or on that unforgettable Wembley evening. “I remember the England team warming up and the ball bouncing right next to me. Matt Dawson came over to collect it, looked up and said: ‘My mum loves you.'”
Max also remembers Scott Gibbs’ epic effort being replayed on the big screen in Cardiff six years later. “The whole stadium went as silent as the grave waiting for Neil Jenkins’ conversion. The women next to me said: ‘Oh, I can’t look.’ ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘he won’t miss.’ To which she replied: ‘You never know.'”
When it comes to fresh material, you suspect Louis Rees-Zammit’s move to American football could prove fertile ground. Max already has the T-shirt (padded shoulders), having trained with the Dallas Cowboys for a Channel 4 show in the 1980s. “I was 42 years old. They didn’t hold back, I got hit. They had me marking a bloke called Ed ‘Too Tall’ Jones who was almost 7ft tall. He was picking me up like a baby.”
So what about LRZ chances? “I think he will do it. He’s got speed, he’s a brave boy, good hands. It’s a loss for rugby, not just for Wales. But if he needs any advice about American football, tell him to call me.”
For her part, Max remains fiercely loyal to dragonism. “I love the Six Nations. I have withdrawal symptoms when it ends. I’ve seen five Welsh grand slams, I’m pretty happy with that.” He is still president of Glynneath RFC and can hardly wait until the club’s WRU Division 1 Cup semi-final against Mountain Ash. “There is a brotherhood in rugby that is very special. It’s hard to wait but we’ve got five juniors and there’s a lot of talent there.”
OK, but does he think rugby has the same magnetic pull across his home country? “He will come back. It’s in our DNA. And the Six Nations need a strong Wales team. It is a reflection of the nation … perhaps it means more to us than we care to admit. It’s part of what makes us different.
“Our rugby club is the heart and soul of the village. All the valley towns are the same. The pubs are closed, the banks are closed but the rugby club is all that’s left. It is part of the social fabric of the village.”
After lunch – on the way to pay tribute to his statue – we drive back past the former local cricket ground. The highlight of his career came in a charity match when he found himself bowling (“I didn’t get off my full run at first…”) to the incomparable Vivian Richards. His first delivery went into orbit – “They found pieces of the ball later on … it seemed to break up on re-entry” – but he had the last laugh with a blind catch by the other Wales out-half, Phil Bennett. IVA Richards c Bennett b Boyce. Feed me until I want no more.
Before you head down the damp gray valley towards Pontypridd and beyond, it’s time for one last tongue-in-cheek question. Surely he can ring the WRU now and ask for as many tickets as he wants? “I tried once. They said six Max Boyces had already called.”
Thank you, Max, and may the Welsh rugby greats not be forgotten.
