Ollie Azam - Sunday 12 September 2010

On Wednesday, the Gloucester players gathered at a hotel in Brockworth, three miles outside the city centre. They looked nervous as they shuffled through the foyer, eyes averted. The afternoon had been set aside for nude photography, for the shooting of a calendar for sale in the testimonial season of Olivier Azam, the hooker born in Tarbes, southwest France, but adopted with such passion during a decade playing for the West Country giants that he is already a legend. For me, he is also one of the hardest men ever to play.

In the photoshoot, the subjects are essentially naked. “Everyone I asked agreed, but that was because I didn’t ask those who would be embarrassed,” Azam said as he prepared for his pose. “Unfortunately, as it is my calendar, I have to be in it myself. The photographer will have to be really good.”

All good clean fun, but for the true essence of this vivid man you have to consider another of his planned events. “I want to stage one big evening where all the old forward greats, all the guys who made Gloucester what it is, come together to celebrate Gloucester. I would love to be in the room with those men.”

It sounds a bit like the climactic scene in Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven. You can imagine the reminiscences as Mike Burton, Alan Brinn, Jim Jarrett, Peter Ford, Iron Mike Teague and John Fidler, and all the other representatives of the decades of Gloucester forward hell, gather in the same room. Maybe Burton will offer his memories of playing against the mountainous Frenchman, Gerard Cholley, or Fidler his memories of a match against Bristol’s ferocious Mike Fry (“ ’Ee took my eye out in one match, but fair play to him, he did give it back to me after the game.”).

Everything is so sanitised these days. I realise there is no moral, ethical or legal basis on which to condemn the nanny state of rugby and its baleful citing officers combing the replays for offenders tackling a millisecond late or sneezing in an offside position. But it would also be wonderful if the unsuspecting and protected gym monkeys of the modern era, perhaps helped by the arrival of a bunch of fives on the end of their noses, grasped the extent of the physical threat and challenge of rugby as it once was played, and how it has now diminished.

Azam is a thoroughly modern hooker in his play, and this irascible powerhouse will be at the Madejski stadium with Gloucester today, to play London Irish. But he is largely, happily, unreconstructed. His Gloucester career has been punctuated by yellow cards, controversies and suspensions, including a lengthy one for kicking Steve Borthwick.

Does he have regrets? “Not really. I went a bit too far and paid the consequences, but the worst thing is that I let my teammates down. Not to be able to play because of suspension is the worst thing. But I feel that the people in charge of discipline have never played. They get their rugby from a book of laws, they do not have experience of what rugby is. Things have gone a little too far the other way.” They have indeed. As he says: “No-one ever turned off their television because a bit of an argument started in a rugby match.”

Azam’s grounding in French club rugby was harsh, with no battery of cameras and citing officials to protect him.

Among his opponents were the infamous Jeff Tordo and Vincent Moscato, once sent off against England and who became a boxer. “Rugby was just a big battle then, and the bigger the reputation of the opponent, the more I looked forward to it.”

He has also added to his experiences in his decade in England, and singles out the likes of Raphael Ibanez at Wasps and Mark Regan at Bristol. “Maybe Regan did not win the battles, but he always won the talking.” He also offers a modern-day equivalent of the old warriors. “Dylan Hartley is a hard opponent. He is in the same mould. It really pleases me to see that there are such hookers still around.”

Azam upholds the principle of having a drink with your opponent after the game, no matter the ferocity of it. “The trouble is that you cannot always do it, you have to go for your warm-down and ice bath and your protein shake.”

He has made major sacrifices to be his own man. His 10 years at Gloucester have cost him many French caps — out of sight and mind. He has won only 10. He has lost out financially because salaries are bigger in France, where there is no salary cap. And lifestyle? As I reminded him, Gloucester is not St Tropez. “When I came here, it was just to have an adventure. I could not even speak the language. But because I could not speak to people I noticed their body language, I picked up what was inside the Gloucester players and what were the values of the club. They let me be myself, they have given me an outlet for my heart and passion and aggression.”

So he makes light of the sacrifices. “National selection is a cattle market in any case, if one man sees you the wrong way, that is that. I prefer to play in an arena where you are judged day to day. And I love living here. I live in Cheltenham, which is exceptionally beautiful, the people are very pleasant and in 10 minutes, you can be out in the Cotswolds, the best area in England.”

In Azam’s testimonial brochure, Philippe Saint-Andre, the coach who brought him to Gloucester, reveals that he tried to take Azam wherever he went afterwards, to Sale, and more recently, to Toulon. Azam has always refused to leave. He is married to Kate, who he met locally, and they have a son, Thomas. He owns the Armagnac, a restaurant in Cheltenham which is doing good business. His chef, who trained with Marco Pierre White, is an old prop. “We understand each other.” He has passed his Level 3 coaching course, and wants to be involved with the sport when he retires. “He will be a great coach,” Saint-Andre says.

But Gloucester-watchers will realise there is a little local difficulty to be dealt with now. Gloucester are far from themselves, losing tamely to Exeter and almost to Leeds, and even Bryan Redpath, their director of rugby, has suggested that the team has become too soft, conceded too many easy defeats. For a club such as Gloucester, this is thoroughly disturbing.

“I agree with Bryan,” says Azam. “We have lost our way down the years by trying to control our emotions, trying to fight against what we are and how we are seen. I am trying to get back that Gloucester forward way of life and instil what we are to the new players, as it was instilled into me. A few good scrums and a kick and suddenly it is on fire again.”

But is he optimistic of a revival? “At the moment, I am sitting on the fence on that one. I hope it comes back sooner rather than later.” He does not suppose that The Shed was erected to house aficionados of the ballet. The bond between Azam and the crowd is incredible. As Andy Deacon, the prop conscience of the club, says: “Zed [Azam] understood the club, what it means deep down to the people and the city. He loves the shirt, and as a result he is loved for it on the field, and has become a cult.”

When the gnarled old Gloucester greats gather for his testimonial evening, rolling their West Country Rs, two things are dead certain. First, nobody will order a protein shake. Second, the only Frenchman present among the hard-bitten warriors will seem not a millimetre out of place.

For details of Azam’s testimonial season, see www.olivierazam.com

Five to fear: The Premiership's toughest players
1 Olivier Azam (Gloucester): The undisputed and unrepentant king of the scrum and the nether regions. Ten years down the line and he is still battling hard.
2 Ignacio Fernandez Lobbe (Bath): Recently signed for Bath from Northampton, Lobbe is a powerhouse from Argentina who has not taken a single backward step in his career. Handy if trouble breaks out.
3 Chris Budgen (Exeter Chiefs): Nowadays only a fixer in the second half, brought on by Exeter to give some bite to their forwards later on in the game, and so far doing it brilliantly.
4 Aleki Lutui (Worcester Warriors): Nobody who has ever played against him will be missing him this season as Worcester try to battle back to the Premiership. A man of teak hardness even by Tongan standards.
5 Julian White (Leicester): Has not produced a single visible smile in all his years of hard graft up front. No longer a first choice but still as grim and forbidding a competitor as you could imagine.

Stephen Jones - 12 September 2010

OLIVIER Azam explains why his Kingsholm has come to a bittersweet end