After 14 years in professional rugby, Roger Wilson, the Ulster and one-time Ireland No8, is attuned to calmly reading every detail on a chaotic pitch. In the second half of Ulster’s latest European Champions Cup game against Oyonnax in Belfast he saw a clear gap in the field. “I spotted it, it was there for me, a really decent gap, I ran at full pace, then in a second I was caught and hit. Boom, flat on my back. As I was tackled, I was annoyed, I knew when I was younger I would have made that. I popped up a good offload and then, thinking out loud, said ‘Jesus, I’ve got slow’. A player nearby laughed.” Wilson can smile thinking about a moment in a game where he otherwise excelled, but the realities of his final years as a professional are becoming harsher.

Most mornings he wakes up tentatively, not because he is tired, but because he must assess how much damage his body took in the previous game. After playing almost 200 games for Ulster, he greets the inevitable aches with stoicism and a sigh. Bruises and niggles are an occupational hazard common to every professional player. His body slowly wakes up, and he makes his way into training, where he is happiest and more comfortable. He is now the oldest player in the Ulster team, but apart from a successful spell at Northampton, he has played at Ravenhill since he was a student.

“I never thought I would go so far. At school, at one stage I actually wanted to focus on football, not rugby. I wasn’t enjoying the game, it was all so regimented. But I quickly realised that I had some sort of ability in rugby and it just went on from there, scraping into an Ireland schools’ team in my final year at school. Then one minute I was sitting in Trinity College after a third division game eating a curry, the next I was signed up to Ulster on a professional contract, I didn’t have time to think.”

Wilson made his professional debut aged 21 in 2003. At Ulster, professionalism came a bit slower than in England. The players still wore baggy cotton jerseys and court sessions on the back of the bus were still relatively frequent. Today Wilson arrives into training for a nutritious, pre-planned breakfast, he then has lunch with the team before being given a packed dinner to take home. Every detail of his life in terms of rugby is catered for by the club.

“When I started, we would train for a few hours, then as a team we’d all troop down to the local shop, grab a sandwich and a coffee, and polish them off on the weights bench. Now everything in my life is scheduled and thought of, to the point where, if you let it, you can become robotic in how you go about things. Rugby is such a consuming sport that you have to force yourself to think outside it and have other interests.”

Wilson started studying at Trinity College, Dublin and finished his degree at Queen’s University in Belfast when he was offered a full-time contract. The academic discipline he needed to finish his degree during gaps in training is now a necessary component of the modern game. “A lot of my time is spent studying. In any game, there are so many things to read and remember. A line-out can change with a buzzword, a hand signal, a call, whatever. I am constantly looking at everything, one foot out of place can change everything. Impulsivity is relatively rare, it’s a become a game where we have to focus so hard play by play. You get one thing wrong in the heat of the moment, and it’s on you.”

The position of No8 relies on intuition and intelligence. The player is attached to the back of a scrum and becomes the eyes of his pack. He uses his body like a slingshot to drive his scrum forward and is often the first person to pick up the ball and dictate the physical challenge of the game.

Modern rugby is built around confrontation. Winning collisions and inches of muddy ground armed only with the force of shoulders and will. Wilson cannot allow himself to think about pain or fear on the field, even if he wanted to. “There can be intimidation on the field, it’s not so much a factor now with cameras as it was when I started. But I’ve had my eyes gouged, ‘fish hooked’ and been punched when I couldn’t protect myself. But I focus on what I am there to do. I take a pride in my work and my standards. When a player runs at me, I will not back away from that hit, I will relish it. I’m never scared out there; you can’t be, the only thing you can rely on is your individual pride.”



Ulster players Rory Best, Roger Wilson and Lewis Stevenson arrive at the Kingspan Stadium for their match against Oyonnax. Photograph: Charles McQuillan/Getty Images

A heralded schoolboy player, Wilson only gained one cap for Ireland, a poxy return for a player of his ability. At 34, he knows that his hopes of playing more international rugby are over. “It used to really frustrate me, but I’ve totally come to terms with it now. You have to. I played at the highest level for Northampton and Ulster and thought I should have been there [for Ireland], but things don’t always work out how you want them to. I am just happy to still be playing professional rugby, many others don’t get that chance to play so long. Come back to me when I’m a bitter old man at 70, and maybe things will change. For now, I am just so pleased to still be playing for Ulster, many others had early career injuries, so you have to count every blessing.”



In a city as small and rugby-crazed as Belfast, Wilson and his Ulster team-mates are held on a pedestal. He started his career playing in front of a single ancient stand and now runs out to state-of-the-art facilities. There is a comfort in routine and the camaraderie of the dressing room.

Even while maintaining the highest standards, Wilson has to force himself to think of life beyond the weights room and the stadium. “Any player who says they won’t miss the feeling of winning a big game is lying. It happens rarely, but when you have emptied every single piece of your body and you are lying in the dressing room exhausted after a big win. Then you are sitting there with your team-mates, and you can just give a look at each other completely satisfied. That’s something I know I will never be able to replicate, no matter how hard I try.”



Entering the last portion of his career, Wilson will push his body to its absolute limits. There can be no time for regrets.

• This article is from Behind the Lines

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