THE SCOTSMAN REPORTS

Philip plots way back from misery of constant pain
DAVID FERGUSON
VISITORS to Raeburn Place this afternoon may be surprised to see two former Scotland centres side-by-side exhorting Edinburgh Accies to victory in the Scottish Cup.

Jim Renwick, the legendary internationalist and now Accies assistant coach, has taken under his wing Tom Philip, who first toured with Scotland aged just 18 and made his Test debut at 20. That was just over three years ago, when Philip strode into the Millennium Stadium, Cardiff, one of a new breed of powerful, well-conditioned Scots coming into the game.

This week, we met in an Edinburgh cafe during a break from his university studies, where the 23-year-old recounted a compelling story of incredible physical and mental pain, tortuous dealings with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and a desire to again wear the Scotland jersey.

This is where the price of striving to compete with the best rugby players on the planet is laid bare. When Philip made his international debut at the start of Matt Williams's reign as Scotland coach, he was viewed as one of Scottish rugby's most promising players, with many caps and British and Irish Lions tours part of his future.

He was a very muscular specimen with bigger thighs than any back in the game, great chiselled arms and an explosiveness and zest for running at opponents that could not be coached. That he enjoyed his first senior Scotland tour in the year he left Edinburgh Academy, playing in all the midweek games in Canada and the USA under Ian McGeechan, was testament to his rapid development as a teenager and his attitude to making himself as fit and physically imposing as was possible.

He did it all without artificial enhancement, and yet drugs were a big part of his life. He suffers from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD), and still can get up through the night to wash his hands countless times, which he says made his parents' and roommates' lives hell.

Once he began to raise eyebrows on the rugby field, in his early teens, the development ladder was quickly put in front of him and he leapt it, two rungs at a time, but always with pain as a companion.

He explained: "I don't really remember a game I've played, ever, where I haven't had some sort of pain around my back or groin. I worked hard to be as fit as I could, but I don't think that contributed to the pain - it was just always there.

"It's one of those things that you're not sure how much pain you should endure before you complain because many players play with niggling injuries, so I got on with it. I took painkillers, but kept playing good rugby and getting into better teams, and coped with it. But I was not daft; I was saying to people 'look, there's something not right here'.

"Because I looked fit and could get through most stuff, and then played in the Six Nations, it was hard for people to understand. The back and groin pain was really getting to me. There were times I didn't train, hoping it would go away, and then I played against the Barbarians and we went out to tour Australia, where I injured my cruciate ligament.

"As the knee recovered, about six months into the rehab, there was still pain in my groin. The SRU let me see a specialist who found a double hernia, which I guess had been there for a while, and that got rid of a sharp pain.

"So, suddenly you think 'right, here we go', I got back training and was on the point of getting back playing in 2005, when I realised the groin and back pain was still there. You can imagine how I felt then. I'd had enough of it and was so frustrated. I felt I couldn't continue not to train but play alongside team-mates who were training, so I took time out and went to see a specialist surgeon.

"I was desperate; I had to do something. He did scans and found what he said was a career-threatening injury in my spine; unless I got a correction I could not play rugby again. There was no option but to get it corrected, which meant a fusion of part of my spine and I've been working my way back from it for the past two years."

It was at that point that the rumour-mill in Scottish rugby perpetuated what Philip insists was a complete myth, that he was suffering from psychological problems; that there was no real injury and his battle with OCD was affecting his ability to shake off a psychosomatic condition.

An environment of suspicion, ignorance and disbelief compounded his frustrations. He was dealing with his OCD, as he had done all his life, but could find no clear answer as to why the pain refused to go away.

"Because I work hard in the gym, maybe some people think I'm obsessive about my body and injuries, but that's totally not the case," he said, with some annoyance. "The OCD manifests itself more in my preparation, being thorough and ensuring I'm fit and ready to play, which is similar to Jonny Wilkinson and David Beckham, who I understand also have it.

"My OCD tends to be when I'm sleeping. During the day and in training I have no problems, but at night I can struggle and the compulsions start; hand-washing, whatever it is. When I played for Scotland I would go to the doctor and get sleeping pills, and maybe warn my room-mate I might be restless through the night.

"It was difficult because you don't want to tell anyone, in case they think you're crazy. I don't mind talking about it now, but as a young lad I was really troubled by it and it did affect my life; every night was a massive struggle. Through medication I managed to deal with it, but I would be in tears every night, and my parents had a rough time.

"But playing at a high level actually helped; I could let everything out. I was an emotional player; I was aggressive. I'm not aggressive at all off the pitch, but I used to love being out there for Edinburgh or Scotland and being able to really front up to some of the best players around, maybe have a scrap, because I got the frustration out. I miss that."

As well as returning to full-time education, Philip has recently found another outlet to his frustrations, the Ultimate Fighting Championship, a US-based martial arts/reality TV phenomenon. A keen writer since school, he has been out and about interviewing sportsmen and women himself, as part of his journalism studies, and has enjoyed being able to look in on professional sport from the outside. He has also "had his backside kicked" in a few fights, and is quick to state he is no expert.

It is rugby, clearly, that still grips him most firmly and he is enjoying helping out at Edinburgh Accies. Though he feels his back is more stable since the operation in 2005, and he continues to train almost every day - he has dropped from 16 stone to under 15, but still has a torso to outshine Daniel Craig - the pain is still there, almost countering the determination to return to pro rugby.

"It's not the fitness, strength or anything," he said. "It's just the running or explosiveness that brings the pain now. I have great friends in the game, like Mike Blair, and Frank Hadden calls now and again to offer support. I'm no longer worried about being termed 'the forgotten man' of Scottish rugby, but I do hope I can get back one day.

"It's not been easy for my family. They loved travelling to watch me play and were very proud of me, of the way I put my body on the line. I wouldn't say I feel worthless now, but I don't provide the same reason for them to be proud, which bothers me.

"It's a personal thing. I know I am still capable of playing international rugby; that I'm still the same player, and have a lot to offer, and that if I could just fix this pain then I could work my way back.

"My brother Colin was a GB athlete and I raced him recently at Meadowbank and he wasn't beating me. I know I can do it, and with the adrenalin of a match you can play, but doing it every day in professional rugby? Dealing with pain again every day ... I don't know.

"I wish it would just go away, forever. But I know there is more to life now than rugby, and if I don't ever play again I can cope with that."

He added: "I won't give up trying to sort it, though, because this isn't just about rugby; it's about my life. Even if I wasn't going to play rugby again, I don't want to go through life with a sore back."

One feels Philip is more at ease now with life and the trials he has faced, and the wide smile and sparkling eyes which greet the suggestion that Scotland might, in the 2011 World Cup in New Zealand, take the field with him at its centre reveals the passion burning beneath the surface.

Realism or a dream, such a thought would also whet the appetite of many Scotland supporters.

This article was posted on 21-Apr-2007, 07:14 by Hugh Barrow.