Interview: Quintin Dunlop, Scottish rugby veteran

Published on Saturday 5 March 2011 12:59

Quintin Dunlop's Test career was short and spectacular, comprising a pair of wins in a week over England, he tells Tom English

He arrives with the jersey draped over his arm, some newspaper cuttings held in his hand and in his head, 40-year-old memories still fresh as daisies. Even at his peak, Quintin Dunlop was, he says, little more than a foot soldier, an honest hooker out of West of Scotland who wanted nothing more but to play rugby for his country, wanted it since he was a kid getting a nose-bleed from the excitement of going to Murrayfield to see his nation play for the very first time.

"That's it there," he says, pointing to the sacred garment, the one he wore on 20 March, 1971 when he made his debut for Scotland at the age of 27 and played a part in their first victory at Twickenham in 33 years. Oh yes, history recalls Chris Rea's late, late try and Peter Brown's nerveless conversion and little more than that, but Dunlop was there all right. Proud as could be. Still is.

He was there a week later, too. The 1971 season was odd in so many ways. It brought a momentous Scotland win over England in London and then another a week later in Edinburgh. It finished 26-6 in the Centenary International of 27 March. Five tries to none. The biggest winning margin in the fixture ever to that point. It was written that Scotland had never before played with such fire and craft, that it was peformance fit for a king and watched by a prince.

The Prince of Wales was in attendance. Clueless, but watching all the same. Before the match, when introduced to the teams, he'd asked Alastair McHarg, the Test second-row of three years standing, a question that rather betrayed his innocence. "You're a forward - or something?" But even Charles would have been able to figure out the havoc that Scotland wreaked on England, a defeat that sparked some self-mocking humour that was best summed-up by their centre, Chris Wardlow - "I would like to make a pile of every kilt and bagpipe on which I could lay my hands and burn the lot" - and added to by Edward Heath at the post-match dinner. "I think I shall address you not as an Englishman but the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom," he smiled.

A double over England in a week. An unimaginable feat. And here's another. After two caps and two victories, after scrummaging against the best hooker in Britain in John Pullin on back-to-back Saturdays and holding his own, Dunlop was never capped again. Strange, but true. By the time the 1972 season had swung around, Bob Clark was the man and after him, Duncan Madsen. "It's like a question you might hear in a pub quiz, isn't it?" he chuckles. "A 100 per cent record. Not bad, in all honesty."

Let's return to the beginning of this unusual tale. Dunlop was an Ayrshire farmer by profession and a West of Scotland player by choice, a team-mate, travelling companion and buddy of Gordon Brown and Sandy Carmichael. He joined West from school, got into the first team as a teenger and became captain. As 1970 became 1971, Dunlop was still down the pecking order for Scotland, behind Frank Laidlaw and behind Clark. West played Melrose in the unofficial Scottish club championship and the Glasgow side triumphed on the back of an improbable ten heels against the head, Dunlop mastering the master, Laidlaw. He did the same to Clark.

The '71 Five Nations was a turbulent business for Scotland. They should have beaten Wales in an epic clash, but didn't. Then they lost their third game to Ireland with a woeful performance. Laidlaw got injured the week before the Twickenham game and in came Dunlop.

"I was on the family farm spreading fertiliser when the news came through. It was about 2pm and I was about a mile from the house and I saw my mother running down the road and waving at me. I thought, 'Oh no, what's going on? Has the old man taken a heart attack?' But the press had phoned. I'd been around the international squad for a few years at that point but now I'd made the team. I can't tell you what it meant to me. I only had my club red socks and I told my mother I'd better go and buy some blue ones. She said don't, she'd dye the red ones instead. And they turned out perfect. A few days before the game we were training and the legendary Cliff Morgan congratulated me on being selected for my first cap. Cliff Morgan! The genius fly-half of the 1955 Lions tour saying well done to me, a two-bit farmer from Maybole. The whole thing was very emotional, it was bigger than anything. I wasn't nervous going into the game because our team was a team full of serious players and tough guys. The Browns, Ian McLauchlan, Sandy, McHarg, Nairn MacEwan, Roger Arneil. And that's just the forwards. You had big Framey (John Frame] and Rea in the centre, Jock Turner and Duncie Paterson at half-back. There weren't any losers in that side. There was a lot of maturity and knowledge. There was no apprehension at all about going to Twickenham."

There was history, though. Wilson Shaw was in the dressing room on the day. Captain of the Triple Crown winners of 1938, Shaw was the last Scot to light up Twickenham, scoring two tries and creating a third in the country's last victory at England's HQ. The glory of '38 was remembered in the papers all week. Wilson's Game. The fly-half broke through the cover, as one writer recalled, as if he had been shot from a gun.

"Wilson Shaw came into the dressing room before the match and said, 'Boys, please rid me of this chip that I've been carrying around on my shoulder for too long'. It was a very passionate speech. Hugely powerful. And, of course, we did remove it. So many things come to mind about that game. Firstly, the 1971 Lions squad was being named the day after, so there was all sorts of stuff going on. Secondly, the atmosphere was incredible. Thirdly, I remember McHarg getting us together when we fell 15-8 behind and saying, 'Right, let's hospitalise these bastards!' Duncie scored a try and England claimed they'd stopped because they'd heard a whistle which they said had come from the Scottish crowd. Aye, right. Then Rea scored and Peter converted. Gordon ran over to him to give him a hug and Peter just told him to get away. There were still a couple of minutes left. Thankfully, we survived."

Dunlop's performance had been a good one and he was singled out in the papers as the best debutant on the field, no mean achievement when you consider that Fran Cotton was making his debut that day also. England, naturally, were fizzing. The Centenary game didn't have as much riding on it as the Test at Twickenham had, but the fact that England had lost in their own backyard lent the rematch a certain edge. Dunlop was in again. And this time things went even better.

"I shall no sooner forget March 27, 1971 than my own date of birth," wrote Norman Mair in The Scotsman, a sentiment that Dunlop would agree with. "At the end, the English were as pale as their jerseys," wrote Brian Meek in the Express. The scale of the victory - 20 points and it could have been more - has stood the test of time in that Scotland have only managed to better it once against England in 40 years since, in 1986.

It all begs the question, what happened next - and why? Why no more caps, no chance to build on what he'd achieved in his first two? "I was very, very disappointed not to play for Scotland after that. What happened was that just before the national trial in 1972 I injured my shoulder and was left with a dilemma about playing or not playing. In the end, I played, and Bob Clark got the better of me. At the second trial I was fully fit and I beat him, but it wasn't enough and they went with Clark to my huge frustration. And that was it.

"I was in the squad for a little while after that and then I was out of it. Bill Dickinson was the coach. In 1973 it was the SRU's centenary and they brought over a President's XV to play at Murrayfield. They had a game against Scotland A at Netherdale and the President's XV asked me to play hooker for them, which of course I did. The great Jan Ellis was on the team. And Piet Greyling, another fantastic Springbok. Modesty aside, I played well. I cleaned out my opposite number. I remember going to the loo afterwards and Dickinson was in there and he didn't speak to me. I think I'd made my point."

Dunlop played club rugby for years after and loved every minute of it. He's still got the mementoes of his brief time in the sun and he cherishes them. There's no bitterness, just appreciation of what he had, albeit fleetingly. "As one of the boys said to me when I won my first cap, nobody can take this away from you now, Quintin. Like I say, I was a foot soldier, but I achieved my dream."

In every way, it was perfect.