If ever there was an instance of life sadly copying art it came this week. Disaster struck this morning / When a fitter’s mate named Ron / Cracked the mould of solid gold / That once made Barry John. Welsh rugby’s surviving legends are shrinking in number and driving up the Rhondda Valley to meet the country’s beloved bard Max Boyce feels like a pilgrimage on behalf of an entire nation.
No one has described how it feels to be a Wales fan more lovingly than Glynneath’s favourite son. Two living Welshmen have a statue erected in their honour and even Sir Gareth Edwards – “He’s indoors, I’m out in the rain” – knows his place. Last year, when BBC Wales celebrated Boyce’s 80th birthday with a special tribute show, the actor Michael Sheen nailed it when he called him “intrinsic to an understanding of ‘Welshness’”.
