Rugby’s dazzling wizard Phil Bennett converted plenty to the oval ball

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It can be hard to articulate why people love rugby union. It is not for everyone which, perversely, is one of its most compelling features. At its best, though, it offers more in the way of light and shade than any other team sport out there. And for those who grew up in the 1970s, the game’s most evocative, dazzling wizard will always be Phil Bennett.

He was the pied piper who, single-handedly, converted some of us to the oval ball. His former teammate Gerald Davies summed it up perfectly on the radio following the sad news of Bennett’s death at the age of 73. “He brought to life all the dreams we have of rugby football.” The pocket-sized illusionist, whose ability to spark the imagination enriched not just his own nation but the whole sporting world, specialised in the art of the possible.

Which is why all those clips of Phil Bennett playing rugby are such a precious part of the game’s heritage and soul. You did not have to be Welsh to cherish him because his sidestep transcended such parochial considerations. Then there was his impish stature. If ever there was a classic example of David – or Dai in this case – giving armies of Goliaths the runaround it was the little genius wearing No 10.

Pelé wore the same number, of course, but even the great Brazilian’s highlights are not as iconic as “that try” by the Barbarians against New Zealand in 1973. It just so happened to be the first televised game of rugby I’d ever watched. None of us were expecting much as the fly-half, in his black-and-white hooped jersey and distinctive