The Flying Pineapple (2 page)

After Risca Comprehensive, I enrolled at Pontypool College to do a PE Foundation course. My tutors there, Avril Williams and Phil Jones, were as supportive as my school teachers had been. Avril Williams was very keen on athletics and she used to judge at Welsh national level. In Pontypool College, I took part in the full range of sports, even trampolining, where I came second in the 1991 Welsh Schools Championships. The tutors made sure that we all did a lot of very different sports to work on our different strengths and weaknesses so that we raised our fitness levels quickly. My running really improved and I managed to beat Colin Jackson's Welsh record at 200 metres. I improved so much because of the encouragement I received from the lecturers, and being around other talented people made us all improve. By trying so many different sports we met the best in each of them and that made us raise our game to try to be as good.

My mum and dad, again, were equally supportive. They used to take me everywhere around Britain to train and compete. It was nothing for them to drive me to Exeter, Sheffield or Gateshead. Most of the time it was just the three of us in the car but sometimes the rest of the family would come to watch as well. Dad would blast the stereo and the track I remember him playing a lot was Gabrielle's ‘Dreams'. The song says ‘Dreams can come true' and I loved hearing it. There are two songs that mean a lot to my dad and me: that one, and ‘Barcelona'. Sometimes, Dad would play ‘Barcelona' at full blast in the house while Mum laughed. He wanted me to do well and was passionate for me. I never felt any pressure from them to do well, but I just understood how much I meant to them and how much they wanted the very best for me.

When I was in my early teens and up to the age of sixteen, my parents found a good way to get me to achieve in my races. When I started doing well, becoming best in the county and moving up to one of the best in Wales, my dad would tell me that if I ran well, they would take me to a steak house after the race. At the time, I thought that was the best prize ever – so I ran for steak! We still laugh about it now. I would run as fast as I could, win the race and then Mum and Dad would take me for steak and chips at a Berni Inn steak house. I used to love it.

When I got even better, my aunties and uncles joined in with incentives. I was at the British Junior Championships in Stoke at the age of seventeen and my auntie and uncle, Mike and Coral Dark, said that if I ran well they would buy me a tracksuit. I ran really well and came second in the British Championships. I was only seventeen, so I was the youngest in the race. And it was Darren Campbell, an excellent British running talent, who beat me, so although I wasn't first, I was beaten by a champion. My auntie and uncle kept their word and bought me the tracksuit I really wanted. It was very expensive for the time and cost £99. It was a silver Gore-Tex shell suit, like a space outfit. It was really cool and I wish I still had it! I loved wearing it. I looked like an astronaut in it. I was always different to the other competitors then and I think I still am. As an athlete, I never liked to look the same as everyone else. I didn't do it to be difficult but it's just my personality.

My hair was always important to me. As a kid, I used to have a flat-top like Kid 'n Play and Carl Lewis, short on the sides and flat on top. In college, I got bored with this and felt it was time for a change, so I braided my hair to look like Jazzy B and Soul II Soul. It took six hours for the hairdresser to finish the job, which meant I got to watch
Neighbours
at lunchtime and again in the evening repeat! Then I prepared myself for the grand unveiling to my mum. I remember thinking she would kill me. I opened the front door slowly, walked into the living room and there she was waiting for me to come home.

She looked at me for a few seconds before smiling and telling me how much she liked my new hairstyle. That was it! If my mum didn't mind me having crazy hair I had a whole new way to express myself! After this, I tied the braids up and they looked just like a pineapple on my head. Later in my career, when I bleached the braids, was when my nickname of the Flying Pineapple was born.

My dress sense got me noticed, too. I had my Converse boots to warm up on the track, which wasn't what the other athletes wore. They wore trainers but I was proud of my boots and my spaceman's outfit. A month later in Salamanca, Spain, at an athletics meet, I was told off by the British team manager for wearing the boots. He said loudly, ‘What are those on your feet?' I replied, ‘They're boots, sir.' He was disgusted and snapped, ‘They're not running shoes, Baulch.' Cheekily I laughed and said, ‘Yeah, but I feel cool in these, sir.' I ended up winning and also breaking the Welsh record. People said, ‘Who is this guy?' but then I'd win or at least I'd be up there in the top three. Even when we went out after training, I didn't want to look like the others. I borrowed my sister Sarah's tartan baggy trousers and teamed them with a suit jacket and chunky black shoes. I thought that I looked stylish. I took the criticism from my mates who laughed at me constantly and it definitely got me a lot of attention. But my running was what got me noticed most of all.

Around this time, I remember Darren Campbell, who was then the best in Great Britain and one of the best in the world at 100 metres and 200 metres, saying to me when we had a quiet moment that I was different to the others as I didn't copy him. He noticed that all the other competitors copied him because he was the best. I replied, ‘Why would I want to follow you?' He appreciated that I was my own person and it made our friendship all the more strong. He could see the independence in me. I wanted to be my own master. I always recognised how good or how talented other people were but I wanted to be myself. I put that down to my family and my upbringing.

I had the privilege of being there at the very start of Dan Carter's international career – not that I felt particularly privileged at the time!

It was in Hamilton, back in June 2003, and I was captain of Wales for the Test match against New Zealand that ended our summer tour Down Under.

I felt we'd given a fair account of ourselves the week before in Sydney, when we were in the game against Australia for a good while before in the end losing 30–10.

But it was to be a different story against the All Blacks. We suffered a record 55–3 defeat and it was a painful day all round, with Colin Charvis being laid out in a collision with Jerry Collins, while I was left with an ugly facial wound that needed half a dozen stitches.

We were given a real lesson and, if truth be told, it was men against boys.

In theory, Kiwi Carter should have been one of the ‘boys' in that contest, given that he was only twenty-one. But he showed a maturity way beyond his years as he marked his Test debut with a 20 point haul.

As far as I can remember, he hadn't been mentioned much in the build-up to the game.

Our coach at the time was a Kiwi, Steve Hansen, and he knew all the All Blacks inside out.

I remember him going through all their players in the days before the game, giving us the low-down on their strengths and weaknesses. But when it came to Carter, he'd just said, “Oh and they've got this new up-andcoming kid from Canterbury in the centre.”

So we didn't know much about him going into the game. But we certainly did afterwards!

As he was playing at inside centre, he was up against Mark Taylor, who was an excellent defender and as strong as an ox. Mark had been on the international scene for the best part of a decade by then and was very experienced.

But Carter was totally unfazed. He was just class that day – outstanding, considering it was his first Test match – and he really announced himself on the international stage.

It wasn't long before he moved in field to take up the reins at outside-half and he's been a sensation there ever since.

There have been some great fly-halves in the world game during my career, people like Jonny Wilkinson, Matt Giteau, Neil Jenkins, Juan-Martin Hernandez, Stephen Jones and Ronan O'Gara. But I think Carter has been the best of the lot.

People may say he plays in a great side and that it's easy to play at 10 in that New Zealand team, but they are not the same team without him.

If you look at his game, he's got everything. His kicking is as good as anybody's, he's quick, he's elusive, he's got great feet, he's got great distribution skills, he's defensively strong and he runs the game as well.

A lot of 10s may have his skills or his speed, but perhaps haven't got his kicking game and are not as attackingly astute. With other fly-halves, it's the other way round. They've got the tactical ability, but not the flair.

With Carter, you've got the complete package. He kicks when he should kick, he runs when he should run and reads the game superbly. He's the complete player.

Outside-half has become a different kind of role during the course of my career.

Back in the days before professionalism, the fly-half was seen as a little will-o'-the-wisp character jinking his way through the opposition. But with the game changing and players becoming so much bigger, that kind of 10 has been left behind. Fly-halves these days have to be able to hold their own physically and stand up in defence. So they tend to be far more robust characters.

What's so good about Carter is that he can cope with that physical side of the game, but he's also got the flair and pace that the little wizards like Barry John and Phil Bennett had in the 1970s. That's what makes him the perfect 10.

I've played against him quite a few times for Wales now and he's caused us no end of damage, averaging something like 17 points a match. He must really look forward to playing us!

He's scored some great tries against us, in particular the two brilliant solo efforts he produced in Dunedin in the summer of 2010.

But, more than anything, it's been his kicking game that has destroyed us – not just his kicking at goal, but where he puts us on the park.

As an openside flanker, one of your main jobs is to get into the face of the opposing outside-half, cut down his time and limit his options.

But, like all great sportsmen, Carter just seems to have so much time.

There have been times in games when I've felt I'm putting a lot of pressure on him and have nearly charged him down, only to look back and see that the ball is 60 metres downfield, back in our 22. It's so frustrating!

He can put the ball on a sixpence time and again, whether it be with a raking touch-finder, a little grubber, or a perfectly judged up-andunder.

It's not just his kicking game that's so good. He's also got the ability to make a killer break or to bring other players into the game. He's not selfish or a glory hunter by any means, and he's brilliant at letting other people shine. Because he's so dangerous and teams focus their energies on him so much, he must just sometimes think:
Right, I'll bring other players into the game now and put them in space.

He's so naturally gifted I'd go as far as to say that I think he's one of the best players who's ever put on a pair of rugby boots.

During the 2005 British Lions series in New Zealand, he excelled himself. While as a side the All Blacks were great, he was the maestro. He was voted World Player of the Year in 2005 and rightly so.

When he and Richie McCaw are in the All Blacks, it makes a huge difference to the team.

Carter had a bit of a blip a couple of years ago when he came over to Perpignan in the south of France for a high-profile short-term move and got injured almost straight away. But he's bounced back from that and just got better and better.

Although I've played against him quite a few times, I've never had a chance to speak to him much after games. When you've played a match, particularly in Wales, and you are in the after-match function, nobody can get near him, because the world and his wife are around him asking for photographs and signings. He's a rugby superstar with the looks to match. He's clearly a David Beckham kind of character in New Zealand, and it must be difficult when you attract that kind of attention wherever you go.

But he seems to handle it well. As I say, I don't really know him well, but he seems a laid-back kind of character and very down to earth.

And he's hugely professional as well – very well schooled. He's a Canterbury boy and I've played with a lot of those who have come over to Wales, players like Ben Blair and Casey Laulala, my Cardiff Blues team-mates.

It's like a conveyer belt over there. They must have a brilliant academy system and all the players they produce seem to be both very professional and very knowledgeable.

It's rather like the old Liverpool boot room, in terms of the values they instill in players. From what I can gather, they spot the boys young and then nurture them.

They place a huge importance on your values off the field. They feel what you do off the field is very important because it has a big effect on what you do on the field. People like Carter and McCaw are from the same kind of background and you can see it in their attitude and dedication to the game.

Carter is obviously hugely naturally talented, but he must practise what he does a hell of a lot as well, especially his goal-kicking.

The only thing he hasn't done yet is win a World Cup and he will be looking to put that right this year.

Pontypool College was the place where I started to achieve real sporting results but, far more importantly to me, it was the place where I met my girlfriend, Susannah. I was seventeen. She was doing a drama course and I remember seeing her and thinking how attractive she was. I was going out with another girl at the time but Susannah and I started chatting by the vending machine in college and later that day she sat next to my girlfriend in her English class and my girlfriend confided to her that she was worried that I was interested in somebody else. The rest is history.

Although breaking the Welsh record was a high point for me, an even more important moment in my life was about to happen. In May 1995, my son Jay was born. I was called from the rugby club where I was out with my dad and I drove madly to the hospital to be there at the birth. From the moment of seeing my son, I was in love with him. The bond between us was instant. He was me, in looks and mannerisms.

For me, being a dad was absolutely wonderful. Susannah and I were young parents but very responsible and both of us wanted the best for our new family. My world changed with the arrival of my son. I wanted to be as good to him as my parents had been to me. I knew that the key to giving my son and my girlfriend the best was for me to raise my game, and I trained hard to make this happen. My son had to have the same benefits my parents had worked so hard to give me. I loved being a dad and cleaned bottles and changed nappies. Our flat was small but we were a very happy family and my running improved with my new motivation. In the words of one of my heroes, Lynn Davies, a Welsh sporting legend and long jump Olympic gold medallist, ‘It's not about commitment. It's about total commitment.' I had to train hard and win races and commit to making myself a champion. I had to grow up and I wanted to achieve for my son.

It was around this time that I was racing in Australia and the commentator, Maurie Plant, a well-known and much-respected figure in athletics, announced the lane draw. When he came to me, he said, ‘In lane five, Jamie Baulch

– the flying pineapple!' My nickname was born.

Darren Campbell and I were best mates, in track and field terms, and in life. When we went to the European Championships, the World Championships and the Olympics, we'd always share a room. We are both proud fathers who want the best for our children and we have an expression ‘Do it for the kids'. Whenever we were on our last legs in training, however sick we felt, that's what we said. We understood that if we didn't put the extra in, one of our competitors always would. I wasn't the most naturally talented athlete but I was one of the ones who trained the hardest and that's what paid off for me.

It wasn't all work though as I had a good group of friends – Darren Campbell, Matt Elias the 400 metres Welsh sprinter, Katherine Merry the 400 metres Olympic bronze medallist, Paul Gray the 110 metres hurdler and Commonwealth Games bronze medallist … all well known in athletics but all mates to me.

We worked hard, but played hard too. At the 1997 World Championships in Athens, David Dix was in charge of the British kit. He went for lunch one day and Darren and I decided to go to his room and hide all the British kit. We took it back to our room and hid it in the toilet, locked our door and went off for the day. Dix was a mild-mannered man but he went completely wild, thinking that the kit had been taken by one of the other teams. We told him several hours later and although he was relieved, we left quickly before he made us pay for our actions.

Darren and I were the jokers in the team and although our characters were very different, we got on well. I was the happy, funny one and Darren was known for being tough, with a cool swagger, but together we had a great laugh. John Regis, the Great Britain sprinter, was sent to our room to film a piece about the teams. He asked each of us what was annoying about the other as roommates. I jumped in saying how much it irritated me that Darren went to sleep at night leaving the television on. It infuriated me that he needed it on to sleep and kept the controls with him and I wasn't able to sleep with the noise. I couldn't think what might be irritating about me to him, of course! He looked at me scornfully and said that after every shower, I threw my wet towel on his bed. I had no idea I was driving him mad – and that put me in my place! We still meet up now and talk about the good old times together.

He and I were also the jokers at the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta. Golf buggies were used by officials to transport athletes to and from the track. One night, Darren decided to ‘borrow' one for us. He hotwired the buggy, laughing to me, ‘It's because I'm from Manchester that I know how to do this!' He managed to start the buggy with a drinks can ring-pull and we drove around the athletes' village in our golf buggy like the Dukes of Hazzard. Unfortunately, Darren's driving wasn't as good as his hotwiring skills and we ended up crashing down an embankment and hitting the British team management's office window. That was when we really put our British sprinting skills to good use, to get away quickly from the scene of the crime.

I loved my first Olympic Games. We were given our British team kit – everything from clothes to shoes to sunglasses. I remember being so excited and rushing to put it on and parade around in my parents' front garden and have photographs taken. Getting the letter through our front door saying that I had been invited to represent Great Britain in the 4 × 400 metres relay was an amazing moment. I was so proud of achieving that, and going to the Olympic Games in America would be a dream come true. I was in the best shape of my life and I was proud to be part of the relay team but understood that because of the massive strength in British 400 metres running at the time, it would be a tough fight to get a place in the individual event. Four British athletes had run under 45 seconds at the British trials. I wasn't bitter that I didn't get chosen as I had done the best I could have done. Roger Black had broken the British record. The crowd went wild and I went home smiling from the trials, having played my part in an outstanding sporting moment for athletics.

When we arrived in Atlanta, I shared a room with Darren Campbell and we were in bunk beds, he on the bottom bed and me on the top. We had a little CD player with small speakers and stayed up listening to Keith Sweat. Darren and I quickly found the games room at the village and used to play on the machines there as we weren't allowed out of the Olympic Village. Two days before my race we were there playing Quasar, enjoying ourselves very noisily, and a huge American security guard came in and asked us to leave. When we asked why, we were told the Vice President of the United States was coming in to the games room to play Quasar. We never did find out if that was true!

Before the relay, I sat with Iwan Thomas, Mark Richardson, Mark Hilton, Roger Black and Du'aine Ladejo and we talked about how we could win. There were six of us in the relay team and we were told that those who ran the fastest leg of the relay in the heats would be the four chosen for the final. It was hard to hear that, but it was the only way to decide who would have to be left out. We needed to talk to each other to make the team work, but it felt horrible to know that two of us would not be in the final team. There was a real feeling of fear around us. My stomach was churning when I realised it was time for the final decision. It was between Du'aine and myself, as Roger Black had secured his place by gaining a silver medal in the Olympics at 400 metres. Iwan and Mark Richardson had also done well and gained their places in the team. But in the heats I ran a second faster than Du'aine and got my place in the final. I was so relieved, but upset for Du'aine too, as I knew how he must have felt, being left out.

As individuals, we were all very different people but together we made a great team. Iwan and I were the characters in the team. Mark Richardson was an incredibly nice, very well-mannered man and Roger Black was the people's favourite, with a string of medals already. Two Welshmen and two Englishmen on one team made for an interesting combination but one that worked. By now, my blonde dreadlocks were very well known and, around this time, I won the BBC Radio 1 hairstyle of the year, beating David Beckham! Roger Black was the darling of the mums but I had the younger vote.

Putting a winning relay team together is hard. As well as the talent for running the individual legs, you also have to have belief in your team-mates. We were all very different, but together we were a very strong force. Our personalities complimented each other. And we all had respect for each other. Before the final, we went as a team to McDonald's in the Olympic village and had chicken nuggets and chips and were given our team brief. Looking back on it now, it is strange to think that that was our meal before running such an important race! We all wore the Great Britain training kit as we wanted to look like a team. It was decided Iwan would run the first leg, as he always ran a great and consistent opening, and would get us into a good position. I was to run the second leg because I could change gear and accelerate sharply. Mark Richardson was the reliable third man who was beautiful to watch as a runner and a superb part of a relay team.

Finally, Roger was given the home straight, battling to the last.

We all boarded the bus with our athletes' passes around our neck. Security was really tight and without these passes it didn't matter who you were, you wouldn't get into the Olympic stadium. The tension was building.

In the final, we were up against the American team. They were a seriously powerful team, and it really was a classic finale for an Olympic Games. I can remember feeling the atmosphere in the stadium as we prepared to do battle, and it sent a shiver down my spine. This was my one shot. I had to get it right on the day, at that hour, at that minute. I had to present myself, perform at my best and deliver. I looked around the huge stadium taking in the size of the crowd and realising exactly what was about to happen. As a team, we were like warriors, looking into each other's eyes, pumping each other up with powerful words. It was controlled aggression. None of us wanted to let our teammates down. This was what we had prepared for during all those hard training sessions. I felt loose and light and as the gun went off, signalling Iwan had started, I thought to myself: this is my time.

As soon as I started running, all the fear, the anxiety and the tension drained away. It was me in my lane on that track and it was me against the others and against the clock. I was running against one of the two Harrison brothers. I got the baton from Iwan and I remember feeling very alive. All my senses were heightened and I was scared, but totally excited. I could feel the sweat on my body and it was as if I was only aware of myself and no one else at all in a stadium of thousands of people. I knew I was in great shape for the race and I said to myself, ‘It's the final. Let's do it!' As I raced around the bend, the American Alvin Harrison drew next to me and said scornfully, ‘Oh yeah baby!' I was furious that he thought I couldn't react. He was ahead but I dug in, ran straight past him and as I did, made the ‘Meep, Meep' noises like Roadrunner!

In the end the Americans got the gold and we won the silver, as they were the better team on the day. It would have been good to have beaten them but we were realistic. Together, the four of us did a lap of honour, waving to the crowd, holding the British flag high in the air. Cameras were flashing and people were screaming from the crowd and from the British team stand. The American team had won the prize, but I always felt that I had won my own battle out there on the track that day.