Alright, let’s talk about watching Jonny May play rugby. It’s something I’ve spent a fair bit of time doing over the years, just observing, really getting into how he operates on the field.
I first properly noticed him, I think, during one of those England games where he just seemed to appear out of nowhere down the wing. You see lots of fast wingers, sure, but there was something about his acceleration, that pure gas.
Watching the Speed
So, I started paying closer attention whenever he got the ball. It wasn’t just about being fast in a straight line. I watched how he positioned himself, how he anticipated the play unfolding. It seemed like he was already thinking two steps ahead, finding that sliver of space.
- Looking for those moments when the defence was just slightly off-balance.
- Seeing how he’d adjust his running line, often just subtly, before hitting the accelerator.
- Noticing his work rate off the ball too, chasing kicks, putting pressure on. That takes serious engine power.
Breaking Down the Finishes
Then there are the tries. Some wingers make it look complicated. With May, especially in his prime, it often looked brutally simple, but it wasn’t. I’d rewind recordings sometimes, just to see the footwork into the corner, the dive.
Seriously, the body control required to score while being tackled into touch, or to ground the ball cleanly at full tilt – it’s incredible. I tried to figure out the technique just by watching.
- That low centre of gravity when he dives.
- How he uses his arms to protect the ball and extend his reach.
- The timing of the step or the swerve just before contact.
It’s easy to just say “he’s fast”, but watching closely, you see it’s a whole package. The speed is the headline, but the rugby brain, the finishing skills, the work rate – that’s what made him so effective for so long.
My Takeaway
For me, the practice was just observing someone operate at such a high level in a specific skill – pure pace and finishing. You watch enough, you start to appreciate the smaller details, the things that separate the good from the truly great. It wasn’t about me trying to replicate it, obviously, but about understanding the craft. Seeing that dedication to perfecting a specific aspect of the game. That’s what I got out of watching Jonny May tear down the wing all those times.
