Brian Moore (centre) in the England front row next to the late Paul Rendall. Photo: Shutterstock Sport
Paul Randall, the great England defender who took me under his wing when I started my international career on the front row, sadly passed away on Tuesday at the age of 69. Of course, I knew Paul as a «judge» and will always be grateful to him. because this path helped me take my first steps in test rugby. I was privileged to speak about Paul at a benefit dinner earlier this year following his diagnosis of motor neurone disease in 2022, and to pay tribute to my former teammate and great friend, I would like to share this speech. with you.
I thought writing a few words about Paul Randall would be a relatively easy task. What can be difficult about writing about one of rugby's most colorful characters, a man whose career has spanned from amateur to near-professional?
I'll tell you what the problem is, making things defamatory. Yes, and tell stories that do not offend modern decorum.
What kind of roommate was The Judge? Well, that's a little tricky considering he hardly ever showed up in the room before I fell asleep. I guess I should be grateful that he didn't look like his Ocs' soul mate, Jeff Probin, who wakes you up with The Muppet Babies at 4am and then makes tea for himself.
What kind of player was he? I would say that Judge was a cynical modernist — he did all new things like plyometrics, but complained that it was all bullshit. However, when it came to the basics of his work, such as grappling and line support (you couldn't lift in those days), he was an almost unbeatable and knowledgeable technician. He could handle the ball, that is, when he caught up with the game and, like all supports, diligently practiced his drop goals before starting practice and without the slightest thought of stretching before that.
Judge's place was taken by the decidedly incomparable Jason Leonard, and if Judge harbored ill will, which was only natural, he never showed it. I think Jace endeared himself to the great man by asking him, «Hey Judge, why does everyone have nicknames but you?»
I have been fortunate to have had a very good, if not excellent, prop in my club and international career and I will always be grateful to the referee for taking care of me when I was still an inexperienced test player. You've never seen Judge throw punches, you just knew he did it when that evil smirk flashed across his face, followed by the omnipresent and equally nonsensical «Kill-dab.»
I guess many will see it. remember him for his wit and wit at the bar and it's rightfully become a legend — if only I could remember more about it.
Randall during the 1990 Five Nations competition. Posted by Shutterstock Sport
I remember countless court hearings in which I was appointed chief prosecutor and his presiding judge. Suffice it to say that we had a 100 percent conviction rate, and that's been for many, many years. In fact, we could have had more victims, excuse me, justifiably guilty defendants, if the judge had sorted out all the charges and the problems with the evidence. Nevertheless, the judge was always firm and resourceful when it came to sentencing. Backed by bailiffs like Dean Richards and Wade Dooley, his reputation as a hanging judge was, figuratively speaking, well deserved.
Every player will tell you this, but these aren't just games you remember, these are coach rides to training, chatter in the locker room and the general camaraderie that persists. Judge was at the center of it all whenever he was around.
What should you ask of a person when you evaluate their life? That he was loyal, supportive, a good father, a team player, a true friend, compassionate and played for England for seven years. He achieved everything he was capable of — this is the Judge, and this is a great legacy.
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