In the fondly remembered days when the British and Irish Lions departed our shores at the beginning of May and returned at the end of August having played 30-odd matches with a total complement of 30 players, and a daily allowance of 75 pence, the 1971 Lions were up country in New Zealand, billeted in the aptly named Greymouth ahead of the game against West Coast - Buller.
I was sharing a room with the match captain, the Harlequins and England full back Bob Hiller, and around 3 o' clock in the morning we were rudely awakened by an almighty din from the railway shunting yard close to the hotel. It was not the first time on the tour, nor would it be the last, that the locals attempted to disrupt the Lions sleep on the night before a match. Hiller was outraged. "I will make those bastards pay this afternoon".
We awoke to grey skies and pouring rain. The pitch was a quagmire, but the Lions made light of the conditions with David Duckham scoring five tries, all of them wide out, close to the touch line. This was manna from heaven to our ace goal kicker Hiller, who at the best of times had a deliberate, time-consuming pre-kick ritual. On this occasion, with the previous night's inconvenience at the forefront of his mind, and to the mounting fury of the crowd, Hiller took twice as long with his preparations, before sending the sodden, mud-caked ball straight between the posts.
In the closing minutes, although I say it myself, I made a nice little break and with only the full back to beat, sent the elegantly striding Duckham in under the posts for his sixth try. But instead of touching down, he veered out to the touchline, plonked the ball down and shouted to his captain, "Kick that you bastard!" With the crowd by now in a state of apoplexy, Hiller took even longer in his preparations before another flawless conversion. Turning to his tormentors, he bowed graciously, his retribution complete. 
Memory added on February 11, 2021
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