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Wayne Smith | September 22, 2007
THE Wednesday afternoon press conference at the Montpellier Agglomeration council chambers was dragging along in fairly desultory fashion when Wallabies winger Drew Mitchell slipped in from the back of the room and took a seat alongside journalists.
"How's your sternum after getting knocked out by Gareth Thomas?" he demanded of Berrick Barnes during a lull in proceedings.
Having handled Wales on 24 hours' notice, Barnes wasn't going to get flustered by Mitchell, and demanded to see his press credentials. "Who are you working for, sorry?"
Moments later, Wallabies winger Lote Tuqiri, when asked a curly one by a journalist about whether the World Cup should be run on a State of Origin basis, tried the old politician's trick of turning the question back on his interrogator.
But the newly ensconced member of the fourth estate wasn't having any of it.
"We ask the questions on this side of the room ... you answer them," Mitchell snapped.
* * *
MITCHELL wasn't quite so chatty when he upended Welsh hooker Matthew Rees at Millennium Stadium in Cardiff last Saturday night and instantly knew he had gone too far.
"As soon as I did it, I kind of caught (referee) Steve Walsh's eyes and he straight away looked at me and I thought ... 'Uh-oh'.
"I didn't even look up at the yellow card. I knew he was going for his pocket.
"As soon as he went for it, I thought 'I'm going for a break here'. And he did. The first sin-binning of his professional rugby career.
* * *
YOU would think that after his dazzling run-on debut against Wales, Barnes would have wanted to hang out with the boys and bask in their praise when the Wallabies were given two days off to recharge their batteries.
One group headed off to Barcelona, others went to the beach. Barnes headed off on his own to Paris.
Not for him sitting around in his room with a Gameboy. The 21-year-old is the team's most dedicated tourist, never wasting a moment.
Informed sources tell us that he crawled at four months, walked at six months and confidently rode a bicycle to kindergarten. And he hasn't sat still since.
What's more, he makes friends wherever he goes and if there's a language barrier, he learns the language.
Within three days of finishing up with the Brisbane Broncos as a rugby league player in 2005, he was in Buenos Aires with the Queensland Reds, already thumbing his way through a phrase book.
He still stays in touch with people he met on that trip, and he is going to be even busier answering emails when he gets home from his first tour with the Wallabies because it seems everyone in Montpellier wants to get to know him.
* * *
IT is an odd friendship. George Gregan, serious, reserved. Matt Giteau, cheeky, disrespectful.
Not too many of the younger Wallabies -- and let's face it, they are all younger than the 34-year-old veteran -- are game to give Gregan any lip, but right from the moment he joined the Brumbies as a teenager Giteau has never missed an opportunity.
Asked what special qualities Gregan, just named as Test captain for a world-record 59th time, brought to the team, Giteau instantly put on his game face.
"I think if you ask anybody, George is probably the most professional player that anyone's played with. He's the first guy to turn up and last to leave. I think to be playing as long as he has -- I mean, going on 40 years now -- you need to be professional, and that's the type of guy he is."
* * *
AS is the habit of islander teams, the Fijians go into a prayer huddle after their matches. But as the players were about to bow their heads after getting out of jail for the second week in a row at the World Cup, this time against Canada, it wasn't gratitude to the Almighty that was uppermost in skipper Mosese Rauluni's mind.
Unimpressed by centre Seru Rabeni's skill level against the Canucks, Rauluni gave him a suggestion. "I asked him to pray for a new set of hands," the skipper revealed afterwards.
* * *
WHAT would some coaches do if they weren't coaches? Well, in the case of Wallabies assistant coaches Michael Foley and John Muggleton, probably start up a plumbing business.
The two were out at dinner with other staff members this week when Montpellier was hit by a sudden downpour. Foley, his head buried deep in a menu, looked around to see a waterfall cascading down the steps, flooding under his table.
Instantly he alerted staff, but, concerned that there was much flapping of arms but not much action from the maitre d' and his waiters, Foley and Muggleton braved the rain and the lightning to check out the cause of the problem.
Five minutes later they were back, jeans saturated, having cleared the blocked drain that triggered the flood.
And the name of the restaurant? Les Bains de Montpellier. Before it was converted into a restaurant, the building served as the city's public baths.
* * *
THERE has been a grim development on last week's item about French coach Bernard Laporte possibly being stripped of his promised portfolio as Minister for Sport in the Sarkozy Government if Les Bleus bomb out at the World Cup.
When asked whether there was any truth in rumours Laporte is for the guillotine if things don't improve dramatically on the rugby front, a spokesman for French President Sarkozy replied: "For the moment, no ..."
And we all know what that means.
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