My Life in Rugby: Steve Gustard – former Gosforth winger

When I joined Gosforth from Blaydon in 1971, there weren’t any great stars in the squad. Yes, future England scrum-half Mal Young was there, and the multi-talented Patrick brothers were coming through, but we’d established ourselves as the North’s pre-eminent force as a tight, cohesive group.
In coaches Jack Rowell and Mick Maloney we also had two of the game’s best strategists. It’s fair to say Jack was a better coach than player. Despite being 6ft 9in, we never threw to him because he didn’t jump – the only lock who made himself smaller!
The only thing you could compete for in those days was the Sunday Telegraph pennant and we won it in my first year. Jack used to call me ‘acquisition’ because my arrival coincided with a 26-game winning run. The trick for us was to translate the success we achieved in the North, nationwide.
Our ‘alickadoos’ did a great job in securing fixtures against the likes of Harlequins, Richmond and Rosslyn Park in the South-east and Coventry and Leicester in the Midlands. We knew we had to compete in those games otherwise we might never be invited back. We’d collect vouchers off Robinson’s jam jars and Kellogg’s cereal packets to pay for train fares and a crate of beer on the way home.
To make three John Player Cup Finals in five years, between 1976-1981, was some achievement. We were a very physical side. Neither myself nor Dave Carr, who joined at the same time as me and played on the other wing had out-and-out pace but we were big specimens and a real handful for the alleged ‘southern softies’.
I remember playing against Clive Rees, a British Lion, in a Cup quarter-final against London Welsh and I didn’t have any problems at all; he tried to tackle me square on and it was easy for me to bat him away. I think I scored two or three tries that day. Nobby Bolton, the nippy little Coventry winger, was a different matter altogether. He’d stand to one side when I ran at him and then tackle me from behind. He was a complete pain in the arse.
When we got to the 1976 final against Rosslyn Park, we were probably the best team in the country, drawing players from all over the North-east and as far afield as Cumbria.
I started both Cup final wins against Rosslyn Park and Waterloo but, to my annoyance, I was an unused replacement against Leicester in ’81. I’d recovered from injury but we chose to play scrum-half Neil McDowall out of position on the wing against Tim Barnwell. Tim was a decent player but I’d got the better of him a few times. Sure enough, the decision backfired and a miss tackle and poor positional play led to Leicester blazing into an early lead from which we never recovered.
Paul Simpson, later of Bath and England, was also on the bench. I thought I was a bad watcher until then; he was nipping my arm and squeezing my thigh all the way through. I probably got more bruises from not playing than playing!
A lot of Gosforth lads were unlucky to get overlooked by England until later in life, or not at all. It was my misfortune the England wingers Mike Slemen and Peter Squires played for the North so representative honours, the pathway to England, were never forthcoming.
I did, however, get ‘capped’ by Spain. My parents decided to move to Granada to start up a boutique/bar whilst I was in my late teens. Quite a few rugby players used to drink there and one thing led to another and I played against Morocco ‘B’ and Italy ‘C’!