Jonny: My Autobiography Read Online Free
Author: Jonny Wilkinson
book. It’s full of doodles and drawings, most of them of me kicking a rugby ball over a set of rugby posts. After the first World Cup, in 1987, I write down my goals. I haven’t done this before. I want to play for England, I want to be England captain, I want to kick for England, I want to be involved in a World Cup, I want to win a World Cup, I want to play for the British Lions, I want to be England’s number ten and I want to be the best player the world has ever seen.
That final one is the big goal. I want to be the best rugby player in the world.
When we watch England games on the TV, I’m not just hoping they win. I’m watching what the players are doing to see if maybe I can learn to do it too. I watch Rob Andrew, England’s fly half, in particular. I study his kicking routine, take notes in my exercise book and then try to copy him in the garden.
Writing down my goals like this seems to give everything added purpose. So when I play matches, there is more meaning to them. I am not just playing for Farnham or my school; I am in the process of trying to fulfil my goals.
At my second school, Pierrepont, there are a lot of strong players, which is lucky. We have a good team, captained by Sparks, and we go through an entire season unbeaten. The dubious prize is BBC Southern Counties Radio asking if two boys can come to the studio in Guildford to be interviewed. Dan Fish and I are chosen.
A female presenter fires questions at us. How did you get into rugby? Dan is a bit more confident than I am and plays the lead role; I have a bit of a blank and a panic but recover enough to mention the international players I like watching on TV and how I try to imitate them. I think I do pretty much OK.
When I get home, I explain this to Mum. I tell her some of the questions, particularly the one about getting into rugby. What did you say, she asks. So I tell her and she says well done, and did you mention your dad?
Suddenly, it dawns on me. I didn’t mention my dad, the guy who is responsible for everything, who is the reason I started playing rugby, the guy I watched playing rugby, the guy who put the ball in my hand when I was three, who has coached me since I was four and has been there always.I cannot believe I have done this. How ungrateful can I be? I cannot believe I have let my father down in such a way. After everything he has done for me, I’ve not given him the credit. My heart is going into overdrive; I’m in full panic mode. I have a real feeling of desperation. Mum, I need to go back to the radio station because I didn’t mention Bilks.
Mum says oh, it doesn’t matter. People will have forgotten by now anyway. No, I say, I need to go back. I can feel myself welling up. I have to get back there and put this thing right or else life will never be OK.
Mum says she has the answer. I’ll write them a letter, she says, to ask them to put the facts right. That kind of helps but not for long. I cannot get this thing out of my system. The next day after school I am no less desperate. I am in tears again. I can’t believe I let Bilks down. I feel devastated. I go to my room and think about what to do. I write my own letter to the radio station. Would it be possible to re-air the interview but allow me to add in a different answer?
I write a lot of these letters over the coming days. I don’t send any of them. I spend most of the time in tears, just writing these things, screaming at Mum and Dad, saying that I have to change it, that I have to do this. I have to do something. It’s as though something incredibly serious has happened, the end of the world.
Bilks says don’t worry. He tells me over and over that he is not bothered. Not at all. But that doesn’t really help. It does die a bit over time, but occasionally it comes back, haunting me, like a ghost. I’ll be playing basketball outside with Sparks and suddenly I am miles away. I feel the panic and I know I need to go inside because something’s
That final one is the big goal. I want to be the best rugby player in the world.
When we watch England games on the TV, I’m not just hoping they win. I’m watching what the players are doing to see if maybe I can learn to do it too. I watch Rob Andrew, England’s fly half, in particular. I study his kicking routine, take notes in my exercise book and then try to copy him in the garden.
Writing down my goals like this seems to give everything added purpose. So when I play matches, there is more meaning to them. I am not just playing for Farnham or my school; I am in the process of trying to fulfil my goals.
At my second school, Pierrepont, there are a lot of strong players, which is lucky. We have a good team, captained by Sparks, and we go through an entire season unbeaten. The dubious prize is BBC Southern Counties Radio asking if two boys can come to the studio in Guildford to be interviewed. Dan Fish and I are chosen.
A female presenter fires questions at us. How did you get into rugby? Dan is a bit more confident than I am and plays the lead role; I have a bit of a blank and a panic but recover enough to mention the international players I like watching on TV and how I try to imitate them. I think I do pretty much OK.
When I get home, I explain this to Mum. I tell her some of the questions, particularly the one about getting into rugby. What did you say, she asks. So I tell her and she says well done, and did you mention your dad?
Suddenly, it dawns on me. I didn’t mention my dad, the guy who is responsible for everything, who is the reason I started playing rugby, the guy I watched playing rugby, the guy who put the ball in my hand when I was three, who has coached me since I was four and has been there always.I cannot believe I have done this. How ungrateful can I be? I cannot believe I have let my father down in such a way. After everything he has done for me, I’ve not given him the credit. My heart is going into overdrive; I’m in full panic mode. I have a real feeling of desperation. Mum, I need to go back to the radio station because I didn’t mention Bilks.
Mum says oh, it doesn’t matter. People will have forgotten by now anyway. No, I say, I need to go back. I can feel myself welling up. I have to get back there and put this thing right or else life will never be OK.
Mum says she has the answer. I’ll write them a letter, she says, to ask them to put the facts right. That kind of helps but not for long. I cannot get this thing out of my system. The next day after school I am no less desperate. I am in tears again. I can’t believe I let Bilks down. I feel devastated. I go to my room and think about what to do. I write my own letter to the radio station. Would it be possible to re-air the interview but allow me to add in a different answer?
I write a lot of these letters over the coming days. I don’t send any of them. I spend most of the time in tears, just writing these things, screaming at Mum and Dad, saying that I have to change it, that I have to do this. I have to do something. It’s as though something incredibly serious has happened, the end of the world.
Bilks says don’t worry. He tells me over and over that he is not bothered. Not at all. But that doesn’t really help. It does die a bit over time, but occasionally it comes back, haunting me, like a ghost. I’ll be playing basketball outside with Sparks and suddenly I am miles away. I feel the panic and I know I need to go inside because something’s
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