Eddie Jones was a massive <insert word>

[Epaminondas Pules]

DANNY CARE BOOK EXTRACTS
Danny Care: The brutal truth of Eddie Jones’s England regime
In an extract from his new book, former England scrum half Danny Care offers the most revealing insight yet into life under the former England coach, explaining in vivid detail how the players and support staff lived in constant fear

Danny Care, 101 caps for England
Saturday November 02 2024, 9.00am, The Sunday Times
I was delighted when Eddie Jones was appointed England head coach because he’d already proved himself to be one of the best operators in world rugby. He was in charge of Australia when they lost the 2003 World Cup final to England, was part of South Africa’s coaching team when they won the 2007 World Cup and masterminded Japan’s astonishing upset of the Springboks in 2015.

Dylan Hartley wasn’t the obvious choice as England captain because he’d had a few disciplinary issues in his career and was quite abrasive and rough around the edges. But Eddie saw a bit of himself in Dyls and used him as an example for the rest of us to follow.

That meant pushing him to the absolute limit, physically and mentally. I recall wandering down for breakfast one morning and finding Dyls wrestling with the defence coach, Paul Gustard. Dyls had blood all over his face and was drenched in sweat, and they’d been at it since 6am.

As far as Eddie was concerned, those early-morning wrestling sessions served two purposes: one, to get Dyls fitter; two, to make Dyls’s team-mates think, “If this is what the skipper is doing at 6am, maybe I should be doing something similar”.

I certainly felt a bit guilty tucking into my scrambled eggs on toast while Dyls and Gussy were grappling in the corner of the room. I don’t know how Dyls dealt with being Eddie’s example for so long, but he just cracked on and never complained. And most of the rest of the lads fell into line behind him.

Eddie was constantly playing mind games. For example, he’d ask players if they were tired, to which the correct answer was no. And woe betide anyone who answered yes. If we were having a few beers and someone wasn’t drinking, he might say, “Mate, if you don’t want a beer, you may as well leave.”

We called Tuesdays “Test-match Tuesdays” because it would always be a ridiculously hard session. After one of these sessions, Eddie wandered up to the Northampton Saints prop Kieran Brookes and asked, “How did you find it?” Brooksy was a gentle giant, just a nice, softly spoken lad with no side to him, and he replied, “Yeah, it was tough, but I enjoyed it. I feel good.” Eddie shot back, “You’ve obviously not worked f***ing hard enough, mate.”

After the following week’s Tuesday Test-match session, Eddie wandered up to Brooksy and asked him the same question. Brooksy thought for a moment, then replied, “Absolutely exhausted, one of the hardest sessions I’ve ever done.” To which Eddie responded, “You’re obviously not f***ing fit enough, mate.” He could be excruciatingly cutting.

One day, Brooksy showed up with his hair shaved down the sides and waxed on top, and Eddie said to him, “What the f*** is that on your head?” Brooksy was completely lost for words. Then Eddie pulled out a £20 note, gave it to Brooksy and said, “Mate, go and change that haircut, otherwise you ain’t coming back tomorrow.”

It was all quite weird. For a start, it was just a normal haircut. Second, everyone was laughing, albeit nervously, because we didn’t know if he was being serious or not. Remember what it felt like when someone was being bullied at school and you were just glad it wasn’t you? That was the vibe.

After the meeting, Brooksy asked everyone what he should do. Some of us thought it might be a test and that Brooksy should give Eddie the £20 back, as a sign that he wasn’t to be pushed around. But some of us thought he should just borrow someone’s clippers and shave it all off. In the end, Brooksy opted for a crew cut.

We used to say to each other, “Just remember, boys, everything’s a test,” as if we were characters in a dystopian novel. We’d get given a form to fill out and we’d have to say to any new boys, “Don’t put anything on there that he could use against you.”

If the form asked how you felt, you’d say you felt fine, even if your leg was falling off. Because if you didn’t, you’d be worried about Eddie calling you into his office and asking if you wanted to go home. Did Eddie rule by fear? Of course he did, everyone was bloody terrified of him. Jonny May probably summed up the situation best: he’d walk in for breakfast, head down, muttering, “Expect anything today, boys, expect anything …”

‘You should have strapped your ankles, mate’
Eddie had capped 50-odd players by the end of 2017, which shows not only how much depth there is in English rugby, but that Eddie took the same approach to rugby as Russia traditionally takes to war: just keep feeding men into the grinder, as long as we keep winning. When the Wasps hooker Tommy Taylor injured his knee during training before the 2017 tour to Argentina, Eddie said, “Sorry, mate” and ushered the next bloke on. Tommy was never seen again.

Then there’s the sorry tale of the Wasps flanker Sam Jones, who’d had a couple of great years in the Premiership and looked like being England’s long-term No 7 until he destroyed his ankle while wrestling Maro Itoje at a training camp in Brighton.

Eddie thought that, to be more effective in the contact area, we needed to be able to wrestle. The backs would make whispered pacts, make it look as if they were wrestling hard while actually carrying each other for ten minutes. But forwards aren’t made that way. They’d be going at each other like rabid dogs in a pit. Sam was pretty good at it and was getting the better of Maro, until Maro fell on top of him and snapped his ankle pretty much in half.

A couple of the lads picked Sam up and placed him to the side and the wrestling continued. And while Sam was wailing and crying, and the docs were trying to hold his foot in place, Eddie walked up to him and asked, “Did you strap your ankles, mate?” Sam replied, “No! I didn’t realise it was a full-on wrestling session!” And Eddie said, “You should have strapped your ankles, mate,” before turning back to the wrestling.

That evening, a few of us carried Sam and his bags to a taxi, which ferried him back to London to see a specialist. There was no farewell from Eddie. Sam never played rugby again and had to retire in 2018. Sam is now a top sommelier in London. Good for him, although if Eddie hadn’t made him wrestle, he might still have been England’s No 7.

It was every man for himself in Eddie’s training camps. You got your head down, gritted your teeth, said nothing and hoped you stayed in the room. That isn’t a healthy environment, because it breeds selfishness, not camaraderie, and it rewards yes-men rather than people who are willing to question things.

But whether it’s a healthy environment or not, Eddie made it work for a while. Eddie always had a group of six or seven untouchables — Youngsy [Ben Youngs], Owen Farrell, George Ford, Dan Cole, Maro Itoje, Billy Vunipola (and his brother Mako for a while) — but the rest of us were expendable, which meant we lived by different rules.

I somehow wormed my way into Eddie’s inner circle for a while, but mostly all that yes sir, no sir stuff made me feel a bit sick. Then again, I spent a lot of time wishing I’d said something, so I wasn’t being true to myself either. We were getting paid over 20 grand a game, which was a lot of money for a rugby player. It meant players were desperate not to get dropped for all the wrong reasons, which made for a toxic environment.

Some lads had the attitude, To hell with everyone else, as long as the coach likes me, which I couldn’t get my head around. Other lads would pretend to be fit to play when they weren’t. Then again, if saying all the right things and feigning fitness meant earning a few hundred grand a year and maybe paying off your mortgage, what do you expect? When England were winning games, which they almost always did in the first two years of Eddie’s reign, it was easier to excuse his bad behaviour.

But when performances started to slip, as they did in the 2018 Six Nations, when we managed only two wins and finished fifth, Eddie’s abrasiveness really began to jar. Analysts would be visibly shaking during presentations because they were so scared of getting something wrong.

If a clip didn’t appear at the right moment, Eddie would fix them with a menacing stare and say, “What the f*** are you doing, mate? You’re not preparing the f***ing team right.” A few players would snigger, then feel bad about doing so. And after we’d all filed out of the room, we’d hear Eddie continuing to berate them. Those analysts worked bloody hard, but some of them ended up as shells of their former selves.

Eddie picked on the odd player but mostly it was just common or garden piss-taking, the kind of stuff that we were all used to. How he treated his staff — coaches, analysts, medical staff, communications officers — was a different thing completely. He once sent a sports scientist out of the room during a meeting, like a naughty schoolboy. They didn’t last much longer.

Then there was the time he handed one of his staff a carrier bag and said, “Here’s some steak for you and the missus, sorry about how I spoke to you yesterday.” When the bloke got home and opened the bag, it was actually some sausages.

Eddie then sent him a text saying, “Mate, you’re a f***ing sausage. You don’t deserve steak yet.” People would be there one day and gone the next, with no explanation. It was like living in a dictatorship, under a despot who disappeared people.

‘That’s a shit attitude, mate’
We hadn’t played great against Japan in November 2018 — the fans had booed us off at half-time, which is never a good sign — but we’d dug deep for the win. Eddie didn’t seem too concerned, although he told us to have a couple of days off at home before the game against Australia the following weekend. That wasn’t a very Eddie Jones thing to do, so I probably should have known that something strange was afoot.

Having enjoyed a bonus Sunday with the family, I’d just put my son Blake to bed when I saw I had a missed call. I remember the voicemail as clear as day: “Danny, Eddie here. Didn’t think you were sharp enough at the weekend, I don’t need you this week. Cheers.” Short and in no way sweet.

I was livid. How had I gone from being one of only two scrum halves in the squad to being bumped completely? I’d worked insanely hard for four weeks, and been part of a win over South Africa and a narrow defeat by New Zealand.

Actually, I’d worked insanely hard for Eddie for three years, and he thought a three-second voicemail was the right way to drop me. I should have been used to Eddie’s games by then, but this really didn’t sit well with me.

I wanted to have it out with Eddie this time, but I’d seen what had happened to guys who’d challenged him in the past — they invariably got binned, never to be seen again. I asked my wife Jodie what she thought I should do, and she said, “Go and speak to him. Be honest, say you don’t understand his rationale and you feel a bit hurt. Surely he’ll hear you out?”

Jodie was right. I’d spent too long not standing up for other people when I’d seen Eddie belittling them, but I should at least stand up for myself. Besides, he couldn’t get angry if I just asked why he’d dropped me.

I had to clear out my hotel room so that one of the other boys could move in. I called Eddie and asked if I could see him, and he told me to come and find him in his office. I girded my loins and made my way to the dragon’s lair.

“Eddie,” I said, “I just feel that dropping me is a bit harsh. I don’t understand how I can go from starting against Japan to not being involved at all. We’ve done well over the last few weeks. We beat South Africa, we nearly beat New Zealand. The Japan game was always going to be tough because we changed a lot of players. And Japan played well. But we still managed to get back into it and win the game.”

I thought I’d made my case quite eloquently, but Eddie just said, ‘That’s a shit attitude, mate. That’s justified my decision.”

I was momentarily dumbstruck. Then I said, “I don’t think I’ve got a shit attitude. Actually, I’ve got a good attitude. I’ve never once complained about not starting. And I’ve contributed a lot to this team since you came in. I just don’t think I played that badly to warrant you dropping me.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and said, “Nah, shit attitude, mate. You’ve got to get better.” Suddenly, I wasn’t so punchy. I told Eddie that he was right about me not having my best game and that I could give him more.

But I still had bit of fight left in me. “I just think I deserved more than a three-second voicemail,” I said. “I thought we had a better relationship than that.” There was a pause, before Eddie said, “Whatever, mate. Go back and play for your club and we’ll see if you can get back in the room.”

Taken off after 30 minutes
Following a rapprochement, Jones called up Care to tour Australia in 2022. Care started the first Test, which England lost, was a replacement with Jack van Poortvliet starting for the second Test, which England won, and was recalled to start the final match.

I couldn’t understand Eddie’s rationale — Jack had just had a great game, the team had played well and we’d won to level the series — but I wasn’t going to argue. I trained well all week and felt good going into the game, but we arrived at the ground late, had a rushed warm-up and started slowly. They scored a try halfway through the first half, I had a box-kick charged down for the first time in ages, but it wasn’t a train wreck by any means.

However, when I glanced over at the bench on 35 minutes, I saw Jack stripped off ready to come on. I had instant flashbacks to England’s last tour of Australia, when Luther Burrell was hooked after just 28 minutes of the first Test and Teimana Harrison was hooked after just 31 minutes of the third Test.

On both occasions, I was sat on the bench when they came off. They were in a state of shock, and I knew there was nothing I could say to make them feel OK, so I just put my arm around them and said sorry. Jack gave me an embarrassed look, and I gave him an embarrassed look back. I thought it had ended four years earlier; Eddie had brought me back in against all odds, after four long years, and now he was doing this to me. Why?

Aussies in the crowd were laughing at me as I took my place on the bench. Freddie Steward scored just before half-time to give us a one-point lead, so the lads were in good spirits in the changing room. All except for me.

One of Eddie’s long-suffering analysts showed me a piece of paper listing all the players and how they needed to play. And in a gold box was written “30-minute substitution” and three names: Mako Vunipola, Jamie George and Danny Care.

It later transpired that Eddie had been speaking to some Aussie rules coaching guru, who had told him that if your team is slightly off it in the early stages of a game, you’ll get a more positive reaction from the players if you hook someone before half-time rather than during or just after the break.

And, apparently, I’d made more mistakes than Mako or Jamie. Credit where it’s due, Eddie’s plan worked. The lads were even better in the second half, ending up 21–17 winners, and maybe they were thinking, “Damn, I don’t want what happened to Danny to happen to me”.

Eddie wasn’t paid to keep everyone happy, he was paid to make the team win, so I couldn’t help but have a grudging respect for his tactics that day. We won the game, we won the series, job done. But I was still angry. I’d waited four years for a recall and it felt like another power play on Eddie’s part. Screw you, I imagined him thinking, I’m gonna take you off, we’re gonna play better, we’re gonna win, and people will see I was right all along.

[FKAS]

Good read that. Eddie was all about the win and not about the players.

[Mr Mwenda]

I look forward to people like itoje's analysis of that time. Clearly there was a lot that was wrong but I am unsure i would trust care's version completely.

[Epaminondas Pules]

There have been lots of stories about how he treated people, especially staff. But also those players that really loved working with him. Same in every environment he’s been in charge of

[fivepointer]

It was clear Jones was very hard on his staff and players. Nothing new there.

The Sam Jones incident seems particularly bad though.

[twitchy]

Nothing really that surprising for me. It's an old school approach, but I'm sure eddie believed in it. The full on wrestling when the players don't really know what they are doing seems stupid but a lot of the rest of it seems like tried and tested management techniques like he says about being hooked vs aus.

[Mikey Brown]

Tried and tested as a scare tactic sure, but effective long term? Building a team who will enact your plan and take zero risks is good if your players and your plan are already better than your opposition, but when they need to adapt to something on-field who is making that call and where is that togetherness coming from?

I’m sure Care’s version of all this would differ from Jones’s, but the volume and consistency of these stories doesn’t leave much doubt. Of course the players love winning and the favourites are less bothered by his antics.

I feel like Borthwick seems to strike a better balance. I actually believe him when he talks about the togetherness of the team, and I appreciate his clear efforts to project some positivity, though I don’t know that he truly believes in the faster/expansive game he’s talked about recently.

[Which Tyler]

Eddie Jones is a twat - some players love his approach, some hate it.

Wow, I'm surprised, never knew that before.

[Oakboy]

Jones was a mistake - it's that straightforward.

[Mellsblue]

Care going after Lancaster’s pre World Cup 2015 camp in todays excerpt. Headlines are stupid amounts of conditioning in the USA camp with not enough time ball in hand, and leading to the forwards losing too much weight, little in the way of game plan for the matches, particularly vs Oz, and Lancaster going further into his shell/becoming more aloof as the pressure mounted.
The first one is pretty common knowledge but the other two are issues I hadn’t heard on the rumour mill.

[twitchy]

I forgot about miserable slimline billy who lost all his carrying power.

[SixAndAHalf]

Jones' approach is exacerbated by the fact that he is the gatekeeper to £20k per game for players which, as Care alludes to, is a life changing amount of money. Naturally it means people will be less likely to challenge poor behaviour (hence why a number of backroom staff, who aren't on the hook financially in the same way, quit). Feels irresponsible by the RFU who must have known about some of this ongoing.

[Epaminondas Pules]

Let's just hope Slightly Bullying doesn't follow his jedi master's approach.......

[Mellsblue]

Todays revelation:

Maybe worst of all is Jones telling Ben Earl that the reason that he wasn’t performing well was “because he had been raised wrong”.

As Care says: “You can’t start questioning people’s upbringing, how their parents are raising them.” Of course you can’t. So you wonder what triggered Jones to do so. “I think,” says Care, “it was all down to not working hard enough in a kick-chase or something.”

[Puja]

On the one hand, it seems likely that these are slanted and biased, because Care wants to make himself look good and also to sell copies of his book. On the other hand, they're getting pretty specific and into the realms of libel if they're not substantially true.

Puja