I WAS not brought up in a rugby household, but I was drawn to it for its beacon of values, of Corinthian spirit and of fraternity.
As a young boy I was a passionate supporter of the Red Rose and, as a matter of course and principle, an ardent disparager of Wales and France. But like a brilliant sunrise over a desolate slum, certain, very special players transcended my decaying prejudice – men who stood out in the 70s and 80s because they were just a bit better than great.
And at the head of the table, Phil Bennett, the man who, more than any player, played the game how it shou...