BOB CASEY'S DIARY:I believe I have two good years left and that I can contribute a lot to London Irish on and off the pitch. I am conscious of leaving a legacy of which I can be proud

IT’S IMPORTANT to stress that I don’t feel ready to be put out to pasture, to use the vernacular in relation to my rugby career, or that I’ve suddenly become maudlin about my future, but I was struck recently by thoughts relating to how a player’s career changes over time.

Initially there are those perpetually bright, shiny days of academy life when the centre of the playing universe is a burning desire to make a senior match squad. That represents the Holy Grail for young players desperate to cement a future in the professional game.

For those fortunate to progress, a development contract awaits, and then there is the moment of breaking into the senior squad; the financial recognition is commensurate with the change of role within the hierarchy.

There is also a massive emotional shift that takes a player from those fledgling early stages of a professional career to the end game; the realisation that retirement, once a blip on the horizon, has shifted to the foreground. Players must learn to deal with an altered perspective in how they view themselves and are viewed by others, team-mates, management, friends, family and supporters.

There comes a point when a player won’t play every game, won’t hear the final whistle on the pitch, and, on a personal level, isn’t as important to a team as they once were. I had a good chat with my performance coach last week and he asked me how I would like to be remembered as a player. It got me thinking about the topic, something I’d do periodically.

I believe I have two good years left and that I can contribute appreciably to London Irish on and off the pitch. I am conscious of leaving a legacy of which I can be proud. I train as hard, I prepare as assiduously as I ever did and that won’t change.

Many of today’s players will have no memory of me when I joined the club in 2002, and the longer my career continues the more that list dwindles. I suppose what you’d like to achieve is to command the respect of every player with whom you played. It’s not about liking someone; it’s about respecting them as a player for attitude and work ethic as well as talent.

One player who made a huge impression on me in terms of the way he conducted himself throughout his career at London Irish was Ryan Strudwick. He was club captain for part of my time here and a superb player. He went from being one of the first names on the team sheet to a player who’d come on for the last 10 minutes towards the end of his time at London Irish.

His attitude and work ethic never changed during that period. He never sulked, he worked as hard as anyone else on the training ground, kept himself in great shape and was relentlessly positive and helpful to those around him. That’s why to this day he is spoken of so highly in the club.

Chris Malone is a more recent example. My Australian buddy is in his last season and he’s largely been confined to the bench, getting the occasional 10- or 15-minute cameo. Potentially guys who are winding down their careers can be a distraction, a drain on morale if their attitude is poor. Chris couldn’t be farther removed from that sort of character.

He’s spent a lot of time playing on the A team and our young guys love playing with him. He’s educating them in a hundred different ways, giving them good habits simply by example. He’s been a hugely positive influence and the club is benefiting from his work with the next generation of London Irish players. It’s something I’d be keen to do when my career is winding down.

My contribution now lasts about 60 or 65 minutes, and even though there were matches when I felt I could go on and contribute right to the end, you have to be grown up in your reaction. I take off my scrumcap and if we’re losing I’ll walk slowly to the touchline: if we’re winning, I’ll jog. I’ll still encourage from the sideline; a word here, a word there. It’s about the team, not me.

When I first broke into the Ireland squad about 1999, Paddy Johns was very good to me. Paddy was ahead of his time in the way he prepared and trained, eating the right things and working really hard in training. He was probably the most respected man in the set-up. Ruthless on the pitch, he was softly spoken off it and very supportive of the younger players.

Phil Vickery’s retirement this week reminded me of a quote he recounted after his problems in the scrum for the Lions in the first Test against South Africa. Vickery is old school and a great character, and after being destroyed in that match he explained that he’d got just two texts after the match. One was from his wife saying that she still loved him, the other from his mother asking if he was alright. He knew then that he’d had an absolute stinker of a game.

As you get older you quickly realise that when it comes to rugby the most important people in your professional life are your team-mates and coaches. Most other opinions are subjective; my mother still thinks I should be the next Lions captain and I love her for that.

My appetite to play is undiminished, as is my desire to help the club win honours. But I want whatever legacy I leave when my time comes in a few years to step aside to be more rounded than being defined simply in playing terms.