Years ago, in the early 1990s, I went to a reasonably large manufacturing concern . . . stayed for two hours or so and shook hands on the deal. The production manager and the bean counter . . . nice fellas both . . . invited me into the staff canteen for a cup of cha. Half way through, the production manager was called away. As he left, Doris and Nerys, the two tea ladies came in. The canteen was Lshaped so they never saw us.

An Irish rugby international had been at the factory . . . who was it?

"Yer man Francis, " said Doris.

"Oh, " said Nerys.

"Complete gobshite."

"No?"

"Arrogant prima donna."

"Dey all are."

"He's got mental problems."

"Who told you that?"

"Mick Doyle . . . said so in the Sindo."

Trial by tea-lady, prosecution and persecution by proxy, fuelled by weekly flagellation by Falstaff.

The bean counter just sat there, what impression did he have of me now? I'm pretty thick-skinned but that was it. I had grown accustomed to the savage criticism . . . my family had become reasonably immune to it. But if it affected how I made my living, something had to be done. Most of Falstaff 's 198587 squad were coming to the end of their careers in the 1991-92 season. The senior players had shipped some merciless disparagement. I would be on the front line soon . . . irrespective of whether I won man of the match for the next 250 games. Everyone got it. Sure enough, it got to the stage where no one was prepared to take it anymore.

We didn't have agents. We didn't have a professional players' union to represent us. We didn't even have a PRO. The IRFU couldn't have been arsed. If the coach was seen to do something he would be sliced and diced to an even greater extent than he already was.

I decided to be proactive and called a meeting of the senior players. As amateur players we needed to protect our livelihoods. The team wasn't performing and we knew we were in the firing line . . . part and parcel etc.

We knew the problem and pretty much figured a solution in a thrice.

From a personal perspective it was a difficult choice because it also would affect other livelihoods. A decision was taken to blank the entire Independent Group.

No proclamation at the GPO . . . just 'sorry lads we're not talking to you'. We had no contracts with the IRFU which would have obliged us to speak nor did we have any sponsors' obligations.

At that time the Indo stable had four rugby correspondents . . . Kieran Rooney and Sean Diffley at the Irish Independent and David Walsh and Mick Doyle at the Sunday Independent. Kieran Rooney is a very nice fella, straight bat and a competent journalist who had to produce copy on a daily basis. I had a good relationship with him and still do. I had no relationship with Sean Diffley and didn't speak to him from the early '90s on.

In the Sunday Independent, you had the cause of all the problems and an uneasy stable-mate in David Walsh.

With the arguable exception of Tom Humphries, Walsh was the best sportswriter to come out of this country.

Without running through a list of fawning adjectives to describe his work I'll settle on two to illustrate: provocative . . . always . . . and passionate . . . a purist and an observer who saw things in sport which brought out the best in the human spirit. Walsh could be controversial, asked too many pressing questions of the IRFU and was not universally popular with all of the players. He was about to be shut out.

Information is power and Walsh had excellent sources who, without breaking confidences, could divulge information no other journalist could get. His analysis was normally spot on because they came directly from three or four senior players who were politically aware enough to garner what they needed and articulate enough to give enough information for what Walsh needed.

Without admitting to being deep throat, I would have given good information . . . the corollary being I needed a sensible person to balance the scales. All the players did it and still do it.

All a game but the game had become critical. It was unfair on Rooney and harsh on Walsh. Very hard to say 'no comment' to a guy you were very friendly with. The stand-off lasted a couple of weeks. Doyle was told to tone it down . . .

which he did for a couple of weeks and we all got on with it again. Eventually David Walsh moved to the Sunday Times . . . the experience did not sit well with him.

The wagons had to be circled again in South Africa in the 1995 World Cup.

Doyle was on RTE and his blunderbuss criticism was not going to be tolerated. RTE were told they would not get interviews etc and another stand-off ensued. Sabre rattling, bloody noses and eventually all friends again.

But this time it was different . . . we had all signed World Cup contracts, were paid a few quid (very few) and could profit-share from intellectual property rights (advertisements to you and me). This time the IRFU and the World Cup/IRB did say . . . you're being paid, you did sign, RTE have rights . . . out and talk. I was asked for an interview and was saving up one of my best "the boys dun good" interviews when word came back things had been sorted . . .

Doyle was to be sidelined or toned down . . . everyone was happy again.

What happened a couple of weeks ago after the first New Zealand test was a different story altogether.

I have never seen a copy of a player's contract but the act of shutting up shop at a press conference might have ramifications. David Kelly has a difficult job in that he needs to communicate with the players on a regular basis yet try and spice up his column and inject a directness which ironically led to the dispute with the squad.

His player ratings and match analysis were innocuous and light years removed from the cause of the previous two stand-offs. This squad is also in a radically different position to the team in the early '90s. They are very successful and can deal with most issues on the front foot. None of them need to garner favourable press and none of them divulge quality information unless the public are four-square behind them.

I am desperately looking for an ulterior motive . . . prima facia . . . it just looks like a bit of muscle-flexing for no account to put someone in their place.

David Kelly is way down the list when it comes to criticism. I thought the timing was poor and the format illadvised and the squad came away with a bloody nose . . . far from teaching somebody a lesson . . . they ended up looking slightly clumsy and beating a tactical retreat while proclaiming a none-tooconvincing victory.

Common sense, a quick phone call or quiet word didn't have a part to play.

The only winners here were contract law, commercialism and hard currency which means that this particular game is over. A point of principle might cost them a few quid the next time.