Brian Moore, or ‘Pitbull’ as he was affectionately known in the rugby world is remembered for his fierce reputation as a hooker for his country. Since retirement, he has become an outspoken and controversial commentator never afraid to ruffle a few feathers.
However, his autobiography ‘Beware of the Dog’ reveals a rather different side to the fearsome ‘Pitbull.’ It is Moore’s second book and is more open, revealing and disturbing than the first.
Moore begins with a soul-baring account into the sexual
abuse he suffered at the hands of one his primary school teachers. Up until
this point, Moore had hidden this dark secret, afraid of the ‘pain’ that he
would inflict on his parents. But finally, after an eye-opening visit to the
Child Exploitation Centre, Moore decided to tackle his demons and discuss his
chilling experience. In his view, it was the only way ‘of dealing with this
issue.’
As such, from the outset, our impression of Moore is far
removed from the snarling hard-man of English rugby. Instead we see him as the
innocent subject of shameful sexual abuse. Throughout, Moore’s book is an
incredibly personal one: an adopted child, he finishes with a chapter on the
difficulties and emotions that arose when he arranged to meet his biological
mother.
The trauma Moore faced as a child moulded him into a fiery
competitor ‘that was evident from about seven years of age.’ This
ultra-competitiveness remained a part of Moore throughout his career. After
England’s loss to Australia in the 1991 World Cup Final he believed that: ‘The
team and I let ourselves and the country down and there is no easy way to seek
absolution.’ He went on to say that ‘I took home my loser’s medal and put it in
the loft. But even after two years, during which I had not looked at it again,
its presence still haunted me and I threw it in the Thames.’ In a similar vein,
following the Lions defeat to New Zealand in 1993, Moore refused to take part
in a lap of honour as he ‘felt that I had let our thousands of supporters down,
and I did not want to be involved in something that I thought would de derided
by the Kiwis as an example of losers losing well.’
But Moore was not just a formidable competitor, he was also
a deeply complex character. Throughout his career, Moore faced a constant
battle against his alter-ego, Gollum (in reference to the J.R.R Tolkien
character). Moore refers to this negative voice in his head as a ‘little
monster’ that has ‘managed to taint so many performances by amplifying my
mistakes’ and ‘inflicted many scars.’ For instance, after Moore’s call-up to
the Lions tour in 1989, ‘[Gollum] reminded me that I should not be there; I
would fail, who did I think I was.’ Even more extreme was the aftermath of the
1990 Five Nations defeat to Scotland that had provided Gollum ‘with an
invaluable weapon’ and resulted in sleepless nights as Moore was ‘haunted by my
failure.’
It was this self-doubt and fear that brought Moore to the
brink of depression following his retirement from the game. As Moore put it: ‘I
had bouts of terror that I could only control by firmly closing my mind to
thinking about the subject.’ This breakdown led to the divorce of his first
wife, Penny (Moore has been married three times) and led to ‘five mad years’ of
partying. Although Moore overcame this distressing period in his life to become
a well-respected commentator, he still believes that ‘there is a huge need to
players to be taken through the likely effects of ending their playing
careers.’
As well as this insight into Moore’s personality, the book
also offers a fascinating picture into the state of amateur rugby. A far cry
from the professional game today, Moore was called up to the national squad
‘when a late-night call located me in the middle of a heated row in an Indian
restaurant.’ Moreover, every member of the England squad held down a full-time
job and Moore discusses the difficulties of juggling his life as a solicitor
with the demands of an international rugby player. Incredibly, the day before
England played New Zealand in 1993, Moore flew to Glasgow and back to take crucial
witness statements for a negligence claim. He also devotes a chapter to the
shameful determination of the RFU to prevent the game turning professional,
even when ‘shamateurism’ was rife (for instance players were being paid by a
sponsor) and its amateur status had become ‘farcical.’
A brutally honest, disturbing, yet utterly compelling read.


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