Rugby: Life Italian-style not all wine and roses

By CHRIS RATTUE

Brad Johnstone had barely arrived in Italy late last year to take over as coach of the national rugby side when he landed bang in the middle of a political spat that typifies the game's administration there.

Johnstone, a former All Black prop, wanted another old All Black, Craig Green, who coaches the Calvisano club, as his assistant.

Although Johnstone worked out a plan that would have taken Green away from his club for only two training sessions in the season, the club said no.

The reason? The Calvisano club president was an "enemy" of the president of Italian rugby and did not want to help him.

"I publicly called their coach and president traitors," Johnstone said. "It caused a huge debate but I know the way I want to do things.

"They didn't bring me in just to carry on with what was happening - I needed to bring in some changes."

It was the first sign of things to come for Johnstone, although it was hardly a surprise to him.

One of his earlier coaching assignments, before he took charge of the Fijian side for five years, was coaching L'Aquila, whose coach is former All Black Mike Brewer.

Ask Johnstone any question about the machinations of Italian rugby and it brings a wry smile which sums up the fascinations and frustrations of dealing with what he describes as a system akin to the old New Zealand civil service.

Rugby, like almost every sport in Italy, is funded through the country's Olympic body. With it comes a bureaucracy which in rugby's case means it is run by 54 employees, none of whom have any specific rugby background.

There are two administrators who deal solely with videos. It means they are superb at dealing with modern electronics, even though the difference between a halfback and a hooker might escape them.

"To be honest, it's a system that is very hard to deal with. It's like dealing with the old civil servants," said Johnstone, who is home in Auckland for a fortnight.

"They have a grading system and someone in the rugby department might get to grade four and find out there's a job going at that level in the volleyball department, and apply for that."

This year, Italy entered the Six Nations competition (formerly the Five Nations), where players and officials are required to have a dinner suit. Johnstone was duly given a $3500 suit, as befitting the head of a national side in a country known for its dress sense.

But come Italy's South Pacific rugby tour, the national side had trouble squeezing the most basic medical gear out of their masters.

At the heart of some of the problems he faces is a rugby constitution, written 15 years ago when Italy played only a couple of games a year, which contains a clause that prevents the national coach interfering with club matches and training.

The week after each Six Nations match, the Italian players had to return to their clubs before coming together a week before the next test.

So while Johnstone was busy trying to instil a man-on-man defensive system which dealt with situations as they arose, his players would return from their clubs mid-campaign with the French-style drift defence uppermost in their minds.

"The Italians still don't understand the basic thing of how important planning and preparation is for the national side. They still believe you can just pull the side together a week before the game. It means you might get the odd good result but it is very hard to be consistent."

Johnstone's Italian side started the Six Nations championship with a roar. They beat Scotland 34-20 in Rome, which saw them spring to the front of the sports news in Italy.

But after that win, they went down to Wales 16-47 in Cardiff, Ireland 13-60 in Dublin, England 12-59 in Rome and then France 31-42 in Paris. Since then they have lost 24-43 to Samoa and 9-43 to Fiji.

Three years ago, the Fiji side Johnstone was coaching were well beaten by the All Blacks at Albany, and he now fears a similar result when his Italian team play the All Blacks at the 45,000-capacity stadium in Verona in late November.

But if Johnstone paints a frustrating picture of the administration he deals with, he describes as superb the attitude of the Italian team once they get together.

"The players don't have the history to draw on. I remember when I played for the All Blacks I would pull the jersey on and think of players such as Wilson Whineray, Colin Meads and Bryan Williams.

"You wanted to play well for your side but you also didn't want to let down players who went before you.

"That doesn't exist with the Italians, but the players give you as much as any other team. They are passionate about it. They just don't play enough high-level rugby."

Like the rugby, Italy itself can be as maddening as it is enjoyable.

Johnstone, wife Rosemary and teenage daughters Calley and Taryn live in a stylish apartment near his office at the Olympic Stadium.

The money for coaching Italy is very good but the noise of life in Rome can be maddening.

Driving is a nightmare. At 160 km/h on the motorway, you still find someone charging up to the back bumper with horn and lights going and demanding to be let past.

But the food, the architecture and the history are intoxicating.

On life and rugby in Italy: "Wonderful and terrible."