INTERVIEW LIONS DOCTOR JAMES ROBSON: John O'Sullivantalks to the Scottish physician who gives an insight into life on tour, on this, his fifth with the Lions.
DOCTOR JAMES Robson pulls up a chair in the lobby of the Southern Sun hotel in Bloemfontein. The soft Scottish burr is unmistakable particularly for those with a nodding acquaintance of the fly-on-the-wall documentary of the 1997 Lions tour to South Africa, Living with the Lions.
It appears eerily apposite to be in Bloemfontein discussing the video because one of the two most harrowing scenes – the other was Rob Howley’s tour ending dislocated shoulder – took place at today’s venue for the Lions third tour match against the Free State Cheetahs, Vodacom Park.
Twelve years ago England centre Will Greenwood’s head collided with the ground, knocking him unconscious and the camera crew captured the concern on the faces of the medical team against the soundtrack of the player’s distraught mother, who had got into the dressingroom.
Robson recalls: “The actual management of Will wasn’t a problem. The scariest moment was finding out I appeared to be the most senior doctor there at the time. I have no qualms about looking after ill people; I (just) don’t like doing it. Will was fine and that was the major thing. The support given to us at the time from the local hospital was phenomenal.”
The footage of that tour portrayed the 51-year-old as an articulate, witty, and caring presence. He is hugely popular with players, management and media, his occasional medical updates religiously attended, as much for the humorous asides.
It is easy to understand why Robson is on his fifth Lions tour (1993-2009). Quite apart from his medical prowess – he is also a qualified physiotherapist – he is an integral part of Ian McGeechan’s backroom team and a significant constituent of the glue that gels touring teams.
“As a medical team you tend to see everybody. The coaches are dealing with the players as a group, whereas the doctor tends to see them as individuals. So it’s incumbent on the doctors as well as the more senior figures to help gel the party together – there are very few tours where someone will have had had no contact with the doctor.”
He is perfectly placed to assess the changes in a Lions’ context from the last days of the amateur era to the ultra-modern lifestyle of the current crop of players. “The advent of professionalism means whereas in 1993 we were happy to have burger and chips, frequent Mars bars and the odd drink: now guys are incredibly disciplined and put me to shame.
“The access to good quality food is phenomenal. If you see what these guys eat yet they are as lean as . . . that’s the main difference. Some of the eccentrics have gone. These (current squad) guys are still phenomenal characters, particularly our fitness guy Paul Stridgeon who is a nut case but the players aren’t quite so off the wall,” he smiled citing Wade Dooley and Brian Moore by way of example. “In the context of injuries I am hoping we are reaching a peak.
If you watch our backline (at training) today it is smaller but incredibly quick. I think we have gone to a point people are slowing down because they are too muscle bound and coaches are realising that and starting to move back (to the smaller, swifter athletes).
“We may see a shift in injury patterns. At the moment it is the collisions in the tackle situations that are causing the problems. It is the joints that are suffering. In ’93 you probably saw more muscle pulls and the odd turned ankle. Here you are seeing massive impacts, big bleeds into the big muscles or strains to the joints or joint dislocation. If that is the case (going back to lighter and faster) then I think we will see a shift in injury patterns.”
The medics’ day on tour usually runs from 6am into the wee hours; beginning with a breakfast discussion of the demands of the day ahead followed by rehabilitation work with injured players before preparing and strapping the fit for training. The doctor is needed to cover all squad sessions, which can be twice daily.
Then there is the night shift. “On the 2001 tour to Australia I had 28 nights that were disturbed after midnight. It’s like being a private GP to these guys 24 hours a day. The beauty of that is the instant access to treatment.”
Not everything though can be solved with a pill or injection. “Coming away affects people in different ways. You get people who are missing home, people that actually might have brought a problem with them. They see it as an opportunity to get another opinion, another angle on it. Part of the reason I am in medicine is I love interacting with people. I like helping people if I possibly can. That is one facet of it and it is quite a useful facet. Sometimes . . . you feel incredible sympathy for the guy. Anything you can do to make life a little bit easier is worthwhile.”
Robson makes himself available to everyone, and not just the players. He won’t name and shame the hypochondriacs but chuckles that the medical team enjoy the verbal jousting. He’s had to deal with some interesting complaints. “In 1993 someone nearly shot Peter Winterbottom’s foot while out duck hunting. You get to treat most things from the mundane to jellyfish stings, ant bites and people waking up in the middle of the night deciding they can’t sleep. I remember at a training session (2001, Australia) one of the players sitting down by the side of the pitch and leaping up with a yell, saying they had been bitten. We found ants but you immediately thought of Redback spiders. Just because you’re training for a match doesn’t mean a spider won’t bite.”
On tour in the rare moments when he has time to de-stress he takes a piping-hot bath and has earned the nickname of Lobster-man as a result.
Working four days a week for the Scottish Rugby Union (SRU) he still freelances as a locum GP – his wife is also one – and takes in his two daughters’ hockey matches. He loves living with the Lions but wouldn’t be presumptuous enough to look any further ahead than this tour, laughing that he had conniptions waiting for McGeechan to ask him on this tour. “He’s forgotten to ring and left it rather late to put me out of my misery.”
When the interview ends he tends to a member of the press who has been feeling ill and not sleeping, dispensing advice and medication: still helping, listening.
:quality(70)/cloudfront-eu-central-1.images.arcpublishing.com/irishtimes/YVIRIOZQ35EWRPZXR27KGMO6YU.png)