Telfer made sure his teams had punch

As one of those in on the ground floor when the then Hawick headmaster embarked on his first assignment as Scotland coach, taking a development squad on a two-week tour of France in 1980, Deans saw Telfer tackle the job with a missionary zeal.

It would articulate itself in one of his more famous aphorisms: 'Your body doesn't belong to you this afternoon. It belongs to Scotland, so put it on the line.'

Such instructions were expected to be executed to the letter - or else. Failure to measure up to Telfer's unforgiving demands guaranteed a withering denunciation. How withering can be judged from these examples from that first tour.

'Jim was a plain talker who never used airs or graces,' said Deans. 'We'd been wiped out after one match and were sitting round when he got stuck in. David Gray was one of our locks and Jim singled him out.

'He says: "David Gray, 6ft 8in and 18st. You're a useless, big s***e". Until then, David had never been known to hit anyone. In the next match, against a French Select XV in Agen, the referee warned him seven times for punching. He smacked anyone who touched him and went on to win more caps.

'Those were the mind-games Jim would play, as he did with Gordon Mackie. Gordon was a quiet Highlander, a straggly-haired type. A good player but a really placid guy.

'In the dressing-room before we played the French Barbarians, Jim punched him and then punched him again until Gordon had had enough and hit him back. Gordon was a bit distraught at what he'd done but Jim was overjoyed!

'Then there was ginger-haired prop Gerry McGuinness, who had sensitive skin. We were training under a hot sun and he could feel himself burning. After 90 minutes or so, he put up his hand and Jim thought he was going to offer some blinding knowledge on the rucking game he was perfecting.

'So Gerry says, "Sorry to bring this up, Jim, but is there any chance I can get some sun cream?" Jim went potty, we carried on and Gerry was even redder by the time we eventually finished. That was Jim, always shooting from the hip. A few found him too dour but I owe him a lot because he pushed me so hard.

'All he wanted was to get the best out of the players and he did that better than anyone I played under. He brought the best out of even the most ordinary players, whether by bullying or cajoling, or whatever.

'He whipped us constantly and, at times, drove us almost into the ground. But that was one of the reasons we won the Grand Slam four years later.

'He honestly thought that the harder we trained, the fitter we'd be. A lot of players didn't like the way he treated them individually but I was more than happy at the way he drove us. Some didn't like him but they all respected him. I won't hear a bad word about him. The man's a legend.'

How appropriate, therefore, that after studiously shunning any personal glory down the years to catapult a generation of players into the limelight instead, Telfer, 60, should break the habit of a lifetime. On Monday he will force himself to endure the discomfort of being thrust into the glare which goes with public recognition of his achievements.

He will be in London at the Rugby Writers' Club dinner to receive their special award for outstanding services to the game, an award of such rarity that Telfer will be the first Lion to win it.