On-song Brown is finding his voice as he bids to keep Romanians quiet

There would be Whaikorero (speeches), Hariru (hand shakes) and Hongi (touching of noses) and a song by the Tangata Whenua. The boys wanted to know what was required of them in this mysterious place. A song? Yes, a song would be appropriate. When there is singing to be done in this squad, then there is only one man going to do it; Kelly Brown.

When Matt Stevens, the once-banned English prop, joined Brown at Saracens last season he had to go through an initiation ceremony with his new mates, some tasks to prove himself worthy of their company. The final one, the ultimate challenge, was a sing-off with Brown, the great songster of Vicarage Road. Stevens, a fantastic performer, opted for Frank Sinatra’s My Way, Brown went for Meat Loaf’s Bat Out Of Hell. “I did the full 12-minute version – and I won,” Brown recalled yesterday. “It was Scotland’s first victory in England since 1984.”

Inside the 6ft 4in, 17 stone frame that will attempt to lay waste to the Romanians at Rugby Park tomorrow there is a tender voice that can hold a room – or, indeed, a wharenui – in silent rapture. Yesterday, in Bluff, Brown opted for Caledonia.

I don’t know if you can see

The changes that have come over me

In these last few days I’ve been afraid

That I might drift away

“It’s a lovely song, written by a guy who’s away from Scotland and who’s homesick. I’m not saying we’re homesick but we’re most definitely away from Scotland.”

The lyrics are poignant, not just because we are on the other side of the world here, but because of the sentiments expressed within.

I don’t know if you can see

The changes that have come over me

Those words might have a personal significance to the flanker given the changes in his own life in the last 18 months; the outrageously successful move he made from Glasgow to Saracens, where he won a Premiership title last season, but more importantly, the way in which he is dealing with a stammer that has impacted on his life since he was a boy. “I can sing all day,” he says. “It’s the speaking that I tend to struggle with.”

Before Scotland’s game with France in the 2010 Six Nations, Brown did an interview with the BBC’s Jim Mason. “I did it and it was terrible,” he recalled. “When I stammer I used to blink and twitch and I was embarrassed by that interview. I didn’t like to see myself like that and I asked for the piece to be pulled. I remember thinking, ‘What are people going to think if they see me that way’. It was the final straw. I signed up for the McGuire Programme, a course run by stammerers for stammerers. It teaches breathing techniques along with an assertive self-acceptance and unavoidance, so as opposed to shying away from interviews like this, I go and embrace it and strive to be the best I can.” As coincidence would have it, the blockbuster film of last year was The King’s Speech, a multiple Oscar-winning production about King George VI and his stammer. “Colin Firth plays that part so well. You can see the fear and the frustration on his face during that film and those are things I’ve felt because you know what you want to say, but you can’t say it. The course has been brilliant for me. Yeah, I occasionally stammer but I’ll keep trying to improve my speech and hopefully I’ll help others. I blame my dad! (He’s laughing now). It was him who gave me the stammer, the big eye-brows and the girl’s name. Played a blinder there, thanks dad. What can you do, eh?”

Life is good for Brown right now, better than it’s ever been in a rugby capacity. Later on yesterday, Andy Robinson would talk glowingly of his flanker and the leadership he brings to the team. Robinson reckons Brown is a captain in waiting. “To think that I left him out of my first squad. He’s outstanding. Absolutely outstanding.”

He was a fine player before he left for England, but Saracens have done wonders for him, just as he has done wonders for Saracens. Brown played 18 games in the victorious championship campaign and won 15 of them, including the last eight of the season culminating with a semi-final win over Gloucester and a final win over Leicester, who were bidding for three titles in a row. The final was played in front of 80,000 people at Twickenham. Eighty thousand! “Yeah, incredible. Look, I had three fantastic seasons at Glasgow and I loved it there, loved playing at Firhill, loved the passion of the fans. But I needed a change. Inside, I knew I wanted to go and test myself at places like Kingsholm and Welford Road and The Rec and that’s been a huge experience. The league is very intense and there are a lot of big men smashing into each other every week. We have a really strong defence. And we won the league on the back of it. The club is alive. I was really pleased to sign up for another three years.”

He has become one of Scotland’s go-to men, a study in quiet intensity before a game, not a shouter or a roarer or a puker, but focused and unemotional. He says there will be emotion in that Scotland dressing room before the Romania game, but not from him. “I’ll be thinking about Romania and what I need to do. Clinical stuff. Detail. My first cap was against them in 2005. I’ve played them twice since and we’ve won them all, but we know what to expect and we know it won’t be easy. People ask me if I enjoy it out there and it’s a fair enough question because it’s incredibly hard work and at times you’re dying. But I love it. I love playing for Scotland. I love the challenge. I embrace it.”

Such is his joy, he could have burst into song on the spot, only he had somewhere to be, a date with a Maori tribe in a sacred space in a place called Bluff. He sang a lament for home, but Invercargill and the challenge of the Romanians is the only measure of his dreams right now.