Take it as red that this jersey means the world... but it's the man inside it that makes it special



A very special jersey, Brian O’Driscoll called it. Although it isn’t, not really. It’s red, that’s all. And a million teams play in red. Manchester United, Liverpool, Arsenal. Spain, Denmark, South Korea. London Welsh, Munster, Llanelli Scarlets. Wigan Warriors, Atlanta Falcons, England’s one-day cricketers.



The original Lions jersey, now that was special. The design, commissioned by the first tour promoter Arthur Shrewsbury in 1888, was intended to ‘take them by storm’ and featured thick hoops in red, white and blue. The first Lions shirt to be a single colour was introduced in 1910 and was, in fact, blue. It only turned red in 1950 to avoid a clash with the All Blacks. It has remained that way ever since.



So it isn’t the shirt itself that is special, but the man inside it. What he feels about the history and traditions of his sport and what his red apparel represents.



Fill it with pride: The starting line-up have their shirts for the first Test, presented by Sir Ian McGeechan

Men of honour: But it is the men, not the shirt, who make it special. The jersey worn by the first Lions touring party in 1888 came with thick hoops in red, white and blue and was intended to 'take them by storm'

The Lions are an anachronism, really. A scratch team pulled together for seven weeks and then just as hastily disbanded. A national team without a national anthem. Losers, too, mostly. The Lions have won just two Test series since 1974 and one in Australia since 1966. O’Driscoll is on his fourth Lions trip and has, to date, been victorious in a solitary Test match, 12 years ago.



Yet these tours remain — as O’Driscoll and some of the least sentimental men in the athletic world have contested all week — the pinnacle, the ultimate, the highlight of a sporting career.



It may make Sir Clive Woodward’s lip curl in disapproval, but Martin Johnson put captaining the last victorious Lions side in South Africa in 1997 on a par with winning the World Cup with England.



Sam Warburton compared his excitement in leading the Lions out in Brisbane today with captaining Wales in several huge matches, then said the Lions captaincy ‘blows it out of the water’.



Think about that. Warburton captained Wales when they destroyed England at Cardiff in a Six Nations decider this year. He led his country into a World Cup semi-final in New Zealand in 2011. And, yes, it may have coloured his judgment that the match against France in Auckland ended in defeat and personal disappointment, with Warburton sent off for a spear tackle on Vincent Clerc. Yet the game against England could not have gone better.



To say the emotion of that occasion is eclipsed, or blown away, by what he will feel as Lions captain is a quite remarkable statement.



It would be akin to Steven Gerrard admitting that an achievement with England would mean more to him than the Champions League final win with Liverpool in 2005. Such a comparison simply wouldn’t happen in football.



Test matches are the summit in cricket, too, but those players are centrally contracted. They belong to the ECB more than the county.



What is remarkable about the Lions is that they are a team who aren’t really a team. It is a concept, an idea, a fleeting moment in time, in which four become one and enemies share a common purpose.



From a distance, it may explain why, although the Six Nations competition contains some of the fiercest rivalries, there is no lasting animosity, and certainly no fan violence. How can there be when the hated foe is shortly to be on your side?



The Welsh fans so hostile when England visited Cardiff in March will today treat Dan Cole, Ben Youngs and Tom Croft as their own. There are men in kilts who have travelled two days across the planet to cheer vociferously for a team without a single Scotsman in the starting line-up.



Unbeatable: Every man who wears the jersey insists it is the highlight of their career, beyond anything they may have achieved with their countries, including World Cup and Six Nations triumphs

Get shirty: Brian O'Driscoll gets his jersey

‘It’s so unique to have four countries shouting for you,’ said O’Driscoll. ‘Kind of bizarre, but brilliant, too, and for them to have love for you as a collective for that brief period, makes it very, very special. When you know they’re roaring you on, it gives you the extra incentive you need to play the game of your life.



‘The ultimate for a player in Britain or Ireland is to get the honour of pulling on the red jersey. So many greats before you have done likewise and to be able to borrow that history for 80 minutes is huge. You would never bore of this feeling, of being involved; from the team announcement to the Tests goes in the blink of an eye.



‘This endures because it is the top 37 players in Britain and Ireland and, when you come here, you realise how many people play the sport, you think of the calibre of those selected and tell yourself, “I’m in that group”. Then you think of the history of the great Lions tours, the wins in 1971, 1974, 1989, 1997, so many memorable moments.



‘I really hope there will never come a time when it isn’t the ultimate for British and Irish players. I don’t think that time will come soon. You see the first-time Lions suddenly realising how big this is and, for all of us who have been through it, one hit is never enough. We all leave craving the second hit, the third hit.



Stand tall: The Lions must end their wait for Tour glory having not won a series since 1997

‘You can see the disappointment in the faces of those that aren’t selected, too. They want that jersey. It’s a very special jersey. The away sides come into the dressing room at the end, they all want the jerseys — but they don’t get them. And you never see it the other way around, you never see a Lions player looking to swap his jersey. That says it all. The respect the shirt holds — everybody wants a part of it.’



Much is said about the fans, and yes, they are wonderful; but it is the players who are the custodians of the spirit and soul of the Lions. It is because they regard the honour as sacred that the fans remain engaged, even when victory seems unlikely.

Barbarians Football Club was once also a storied name in rugby. Their 23-11 victory over New Zealand on January 27, 1973, is recalled as one of the greatest matches in history. Yet, over time, the players cared less and less for an invitation from the Baa-Baas. Fans sensed that, and deserted the team, too. Now, when they play at Twickenham, parts of the ground do not open. Their 59-8 defeat by the Lions in Hong Kong earlier this month sounded very much like the death knell for what was once a great institution.

Who cares? Affection for the Lions must not diminish like it has with England football and the Barbarians

It can happen. It could happen to the Lions if the players were no longer entranced. This isn’t a particularly successful team. If the players were disinterested, that ennui would quickly transfer.



‘We need to win one of these series soon,’ said O’Driscoll. ‘I dearly want to be part of that for the Lions’ sake going forward.’



Clearly, there is concern that continued defeat will take its toll on the collective spirit. Maybe so, but for now it shows no sign of abating.



Tom Youngs said that, when his name was read out as part of the starting line-up, his elation was so great that he didn’t hear another name until his brother, Ben, was listed among the replacements.



George North described lying in bed at night and taking a deep breath ‘as a Lion’. Stuart Barnes, who played for the Lions in New Zealand in 1993, the last tour of the amateur era, recalled his heart jumping on hearing his name called.



Compare this to Jamie Carragher’s brutal admission, after England had lost a penalty shoot-out to Portugal in a World Cup quarter-final, that it did not mean as much to him as losing with Liverpool.

Get behind the lads: Lions supporters have, as always, provided a brilliant backdrop to the matches

‘I’d just missed a penalty in the World Cup quarters but I thought I’d rather miss for England than Liverpool,’ Carragher wrote. ‘Defeats wearing an England shirt never hurt me in the same way as losing with my club.’



Yet, if the Lions lose today — and they have never been beaten in Brisbane, incredibly — it will hurt like hell. To win the Rugby World Cup, some argue, is now the pinnacle of a career for a player in Britain or Ireland: except not one made that distinction in the build-up to this match. There were no caveats, no asterisks, no parentheses, no footnotes.



They could easily have stayed respectful to the Lions, while being honest about the revised pecking order of boyhood dreams. Yet on one matter the players remained in universal agreement and absolutely clear.



This is it. This sweeps the rest from the board. A simple red jersey, yes; but it means the world.



