Free The Hardest Test by Scott Quinnell

Chapter One
    The morning of 21 November 2000 should have been the happiest moment of my rugby career. We were preparing to face South Africa at the Millennium Stadium the following Saturday. As I was eating breakfast, Graham Henry, the Welsh coach, came over to talk to me. An injury had ruled out stand-in captain Mark Taylor and he was offering me the Welsh captaincy for the first time.
    I was very honoured and obviously happy. To captain your country is the pinnacle of any player’s career. But the more I thought about it and what the responsibility entailed, the more I began to worry.
    For the week leading up to the match, I hardly slept. Believe me, it had nothing to do with captaining Wales in front of 72,000 people, nor indeed anything to do with rugby at all. What absolutely petrified me was the prospect of having to speak in front of the players, their families and dignitaries after the game. That was it, nothing more.
    My mind would go back to being eighteen again when I was asked to open a fête in my old primary school and the fear that had triggered. Then, too, I hardly slept during the nights leading up to the event. It might seem crazy – I only had to say “I declare this fête open”. It must seem surprising that something so easy could cause me such anxiety, but my experiences up to that point had left me with little or no confidence when it came to such things.
    There’s a picture of me when I’m very young at primary school wearing a red rugby jersey. I think it must be one of my dad’s, because it’s drowning me, but I look very happy. And yet at that time I had no idea what rugby was, let alone how much of a role it would play in the rest of my life. It makes me smile just to look at it.
    I started school aged four. Five Roads Junior School was barely 300 yards from where we lived and was very much part of the small village where I grew up.
    Learning at that age is all about fun and you soon forget about being left at school every day by your parents. To me, it was just somewhere else to spend time with the friends who were so much a part of my life outside school. That’s what made things easier, I guess – we grew up discovering new things together and it was like one big family.
    Everywhere there were familiar faces. I recognised the teachers from around the village and even the dinner lady was my best friend Martin’s mother – her cawl was one reason for anyone to want to go to school!
    You hear of schools struggling these days with large classes; at Five Roads we benefited from the extra attention that being in small school groups allows.
    Thinking back, and with what I know now, I must have shown early signs of learning difficulties. But I don’t think there was anything particularly different about me. I was quite a confident kid, eager to have a go at anything.
    I remember vividly being given the responsibility of being milk monitor, a job I took to with relish – my proudest moment up ’til then, with the added incentive of being able to have an extra bottle now and again!
    Five Roads was and still is very much a close-knit community; everyone knew each other’s families and it was safe for us kids to play out until all hours.
    Regular events like the carnival brought the community even closer together. I’ve a vivid memory of one such carnival enjoyed by myself, my friend Martin and my younger brother Craig. We all dressed as rugby players and insisted on walking round all day in those thick, cotton jerseys in the sweltering summer heat, getting up to no good in Mervyn Daviesstyle headbands. Craig and I had little idea that in the years to come we’d be spending quite a lot of time running around in kit – though I must say I’ve not been tempted to adopt my godfather Mervyn’s ‘John McEnroe’ look any time since.
    The move from primary up to secondary school is enormous for any child. It’s