The unexpected retirement of Dan Parks from international rugby prompted an entirely expected reaction from his adopted nation. Only Alex Salmond could rival Parks’ ability to polarize opinion. To some he was a kicking king, capable of dominating the best teams with his laser-sighted right boot. To others he was weak, cowardly in the tackle and the root cause of Scotland’s lack of tries. Where his champions cite Wales 2010 – a resurrection of biblical standards - his detractors point to the dour games which have been borne from his right foot, and in particular his final game against England this year.
Every sport has its champagne position. Football and the number 10, American football and the quarterback, even cricket and the all-rounder. The names of Maradona, Brady and Botham are only a few that highlight the maxim that if you want to be a legend of your sport, these are the positions that produce them. Conversely, if you want to hide from the limelight and not be noticed, perhaps these roles shouldn’t be adopted. Supreme confidence is necessary, a hard skin is almost obligatory, a lack of cojones unacceptable.
Rugby is no different. The fly half/stand off/first five eighth role – whatever you choose to call it - has long been seen as the jewel in the backline. Mesmerising number 10s dominate the annals of rugby history: Barry John, Michael Lynagh, Jonny Wilkinson – not Dan Parks. It is 13 years since Scotland had a fly half to rival the aforementioned. Coincidentally, or perhaps not, it is 13 years since Scotland’s last major triumph.
The 1999 Five Nations tournament – the last before Italy joined the party - contained excitement to the very last kick. Scotland’s victory was attributed to the mercurial talents of their fly half Gregor Townsend who scored a try in every round. For those younger readers who can’t quite recall what a Scotland try feels like, it’s a very joyous occasion, akin somewhat to the birth of Christ.
It was Townsend’s ability to glide through gaps that only he had seen - while performing sleight of hand tricks that would have bamboozled Paul Daniels - that made him so effective. He was the epitome of the champagne player, the flair merchant who could only really succeed in the most influential of positions. Since then Scotland has failed to reproduce his magic; when Gregor was effectively retired by Scotland’s Aussie coach Matt Williams in 2003, the search was on for a successor.
One man was chosen to take on the mantle; a man recently retired after an illustrious career, a legend of Scottish sport – Chris Paterson, not Dan Parks. The repeated failure of Scottish Rugby to persevere and use its most gifted player in his favoured position by consistently refusing to select Paterson at 10 is for another time, however the introduction of Dan Parks did no favours to himself as well as to Paterson. After only three substitute performances, Parks was thrust into the starting line-up and his arrival coincided with the allergic reaction to the try line that Scotland has suffered from ever since.
The malaise in the backline can be rightly attributed to the lack of pace he brings to the ball as well as how deep he stands in the first receiver position – often attributed to the notion Parks would rather run backwards than be knocked backwards. However, it’s difficult not to feel sorry for the Antipodean - team sport is a result-run business and his kicking prowess has produced exactly that. If at times sporadically.
It will be easy to view his retirement as lacking courage, but this was a decision that he made following the World Cup, and then was persuaded to change his mind because coach Andy Robinson recognised the dearth of talent at half back. He won’t be the last Scot to depart on a sour note but he shouldn’t be blamed for the selection failures of successive coaches. After all, he didn’t pick himself. Desperate Dan (as he was rather predictably known) can hold his head high knowing he will never shoulder the burden of blame again. The curse of the Tartan Ten lives on.