My Life in Rugby: Bleddyn Jones- former Leicester fly-half

I was named after Bleddyn Williams, the Prince of Welsh centres when I was born in 1948, in a mining village called Brynamman, near Swansea. It was a hotbed of rugby with Gareth Edwards and Barry John living nearby. I played in the same team as Mervyn Davies, when I was training to be a teacher at Swansea College, but it’s fair to say we both blossomed later on – in my case at Leicester.
It was purely by chance that I joined the Tigers. I’d moved to the city to take up a job as a teacher and was staying in digs at the local YMCA. After my first day’s teaching I went for a walk and came across some players training at the recreation ground next to Welford Road.
Unbeknown to me they were from Tigers. I asked to join in and the rest, as they say, is history. The same evening Peter Wheeler joined the club.
Weighing 10 stone and standing just 5ft 7ins tall, I was told I was too small for the first XV. However, I got my chance when we fielded a mixed team in a fixture against Wilmslow, an up-and-coming side that nobody had heard of. It wasn’t a very auspicious debut as we lost 33-13, and to make matters worse I had to play in shorts that were ten times too big as that was all that was left when I got there. If you were to tell me after that game that I would go on to play 333 games for the club, I wouldn’t have believed you.
Chalkie White was our coach and he was way ahead of his time. We didn’t have many stars, it was only Peter Wheeler and Bob Rowell who were internationals, but Chalkie turned  an ordinary side into a good one. He was really inspirational and set the ethos of the club.
I was fortunate enough to play in eight Boxing Day games against the Barbarians, all sell-outs. As an ordinary club player to play against players of the calibre of Barry John, my boyhood hero, was a real highlight. I was fascinated by the way Barry enjoyed himself, smiling as he ghosted through gaps. Budge Rogers was the Barbarians captain and kept telling him to kick the ball but he completely ignored that. The joy with which he played the game was something that stayed with me as I’d been rather serious on the field up until that point.
Playing for the East Midlands Counties against the All Blacks in 1973 was a bitter-sweet experience for me. To be picked to play against them was a dream come true, but I only lasted until just before half-time after being caught in the face by Ian Kirkpatrick’s heel as I attempted to ankle-tap him. Blood was pouring down my face and I needed 14 stitches. He came into the dressing room afterwards to see if I was alright, which was a nice touch.
Another highlight was playing in the Tigers’ first cup final against Gloucester. We kind of froze that day and lost 9-3. But from there though, the club went from strength to strength.
When Dusty Hare joined in 1976 it ended our long search for a reliable goal-kicker. Kicking wasn’t one of my strengths, I was taught in Wales to run with the ball and my tally from kicks was just 14 points. Current Tigers fly-half Owen Williams got more than that on his debut.
My last game was in September 1978 v Quins at Twickenham. A young Clive Woodward played opposite and I remember the grass being knee deep because they wanted to protect the surface for the international season. Unfortunately, we lost.
When I finished playing I helped coach the Leicester youth team and also the Leicestershire Colts. The commentator for Radio Leicester at that time was a Welsh bloke called Van Hopkins. He asked me to be a summariser and that’s how I got into broadcasting. When he retired in 1987 I took over the commentary and I’ve done it for the last 28 years. My biggest critic is my wife and she always pulls me up for saying, ‘the referee has blown up’. Can you imagine that literally happening!
I’ve been spoilt to have a hobby for a job and to follow Tigers at a time when they’ve won pretty much everything there is on offer. And I haven’t missed a single European tie, with my most memorable one being the final against Stade Francais at the Parcs des Princes.
While I didn’t train as a journalist there must be something in the Jones’ genes because my son, Gareth, has taken up a successful career behind the microphone as Sports Editor of Radio Leeds. To be able to commentate alongside him, albeit for different teams, when Leicester played up at Headingley in 2009, was a proud moment.