Barry John famously reckoned he had to live three lives on returning from the greatest Lions’ tour of them all — one as an employee at Midland Bank, another as a family man and the third as a pop star.
Quite how he found time to be a world-beating rugby player is hard to work out.
His box-office value was illustrated by a story Cliff Morgan used to tell about him, concerning a large sign outside a rugby ground before a match which read: ‘Admission, £2. If Barry John plays — £10’.
Apocryphal or not, it underlines the status that John had attracted after coming back from conquering New Zealand with the best of British and Irish rugby in 1971.
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When England played Wales the following year, the man who had worn the Welsh No. 10 shirt that day was ambushed after the game by Eamonn Andrews and taken off to a TV studio to be the subject of This is Your Life.
Fan-mail by the sackful is said to have sent John's way. He couldn’t book a table in a restaurant under his own name and when he stopped at a garage to have his car fixed the owner called his mates to tell them Barry John was there, with schoolchildren arriving as well just to stare at him.
“I once caused a traffic jam on Queen Street in Cardiff,” John is on record as saying. “I was waiting at the lights to cross the road, and somebody left their car idling to come and shake hands. Others joined in, and before long there was a massive tailback.”
It all proved too much for the Cefneithin-born player. A young girl curtseying to him in Rhyl was the clincher, with John later speaking of the “monster of fame” as the main reason why he ended his rugby career early.
Fifty years ago, on March 25 1972, he played his final Test for Wales, against France in Cardiff. In the book Welsh International Matches, 1881-2011, rugby historian Howard Evans writes: “It was goodbye to Barry John, as at only 27 he retired. He went quietly away but not before stroking four superb penalties.”
The Western Mail’s JBG Thomas noted in the following season’s Rugby Annual for Wales: “For Barry John, it was his last match for Wales. He knew it then, as did a few of his closest friends, but no one else. There were no more records to conquer for this remarkable 27-year-old.”
John actually announced his retirement after the season in Wales ended, in May of that year. He is said to have been paid £7,000 by the Sunday Mirror for the exclusive. The Sunday Mirror’s sports editor tried to talk him out of his call, while an old lady who’d watched him play from her balcony overlooking the Arms Park offered him her life savings to keep playing.
But John’s mind was made up.
He had confided in just three people that he intended to quit: Gareth Edwards, Gerald Davies and Gerry Lewis, Welsh rugby's golden-age masseur, physiotherapist, baggage master and buyer of ice creams at the cinema on Friday evenings before internationals.
John played his final game, for a Barry John XV against a Carwyn James XV, in the last week of April that year amid rumours of an impending exit before the official announcement came.
In Peter Jackson’s Lions of Wales, Mervyn Davies reflected: “Barry was just about reaching his zenith then. He should have stayed in rugby a damned sight longer than he did. The world never saw the best of Barry John.
“He was the first rugby superstar and he wanted to cash in on his fame. I think his early retirement was a mistake. When I had to retire I was thinking: ‘I’m just getting the hang of this game. I can take it on to a higher plane.’ Barry would have done the same.”
A call had been made, though, and there was no going back. But unlike Sinatra, there were regrets. "I’d love to have gone on for three or four more years, " said John, "but, as an amateur, I had a job to do as well, and whenever I went back to the office it was chaos. I never sought adulation. That’s probably why I ran away from it.”
Years later, his successor at No. 10 with Wales, Phil Bennett recalled that John had achieved superstar levels of fame that included pictures of him and George Best in newspapers. “But Barry wasn’t a film star,” said Bennett. “He was a young guy from a west Wales village and it was already being talked about that he found that side of things quite difficult.
"He’d go for a pint and there would be six blokes queueing up to get an autograph and ask him questions. He would go to some function and no-one would give him a minute’s peace.
“There were rumours among the boys that he wasn’t happy. You have to remember this was an amateur game. Barry played for fun, for the enjoyment. Yes, he wanted to win every game he played, but it wasn’t life and death to him and it wasn’t his job.”
Typically, despite being the heir to John’s throne with Wales, Bennett said he had been saddened by his call to exit the game.
The jinking, darting Benny, of course, proved a worthy successor in every respect.
For John it was over all too soon.
Years earlier, he had signed an autograph book for a wide-eyed youngster at Maesteg who’d been escorted into the Cardiff dressing rooms by Chico Hopkins.
John could not have been friendlier and more respectful of a lad who hadn’t long perfected the art of real writing.
One minute of John’s time, and a memory that’s always stuck with me.
Years later, I ghosted his column for WalesOnline and he was still affable. He’d write out his thoughts himself and dictate them. The pieces didn’t need much tinkering with, either. He could write, could Barry.
It was all a bit different from other ghost-written columns.
But then Barry John always did things differently.
Little is written about him these days because there’s not much more that can be said.
But what a player. Someone who always delivered, someone who always left spectators always wanting more. So many great feats, yet so many in rugby wished he’d stuck around for longer as a player.
BJ always found a way.
Genius does.
