You might ask why a good Ulsterman like Peter Jackson, rugby correspondent of the Daily Mail, should spend his free time recording the memories of the Lions of Wales (Mainstream, pounds 14.99), but he has lived in Cardiff for more years than anyone cares to remember and besides, any account of the `Lions of Ireland’ would have sent his already legendary phone bill into orbit.Jackson’s choice of interviewees is inspired: all the Olympian heroes – Gareth, Barry, JPR, Merv the Swerve – have a chapter to themselves, as do the natural comics. Bobby Windsor’s contribution is chokingly, rip- roaringly hilarious – the story of the gin, the ice cube and the airborne thermometer is a classic – while Delme Thomas, that great man of Stradey, leaves an equally deep impression of rugger-bugger bonhomie. Add to this the author’s eye for a story, whether it be the truth behind Barry John’s premature retirement or Mervyn Davies’ near-fatal brain haemorrhage, and you have a fine read on your hands.Which is more than can be said for Bill McLaren’s Dream Lions (Collins Willow, pounds 16.99), a depressingly unilluminating thumbnail sketch of the leading British Isles performers of the last 25 years or so. Apart from the odd error of fact and carelessly miscaptioned photograph, there is at least one selectorial misjudgement: the absence of Ben Clarke, by common consent the outstanding performer in the 1993 series in New Zealand, as one of the four finest blind-side flankers of the most recent Lions era. Worse still, the writing lacks both humour and anecdotal colour.Thankfully, that disappointment is counterbalanced by Peter Bills’ chirpy labour of love, Passion in Exile: 100 Years of London Irish RFC (Mainstream, pounds 20). Mind you, if you can’t crack a a joke or three with this subject matter, you should consider a stint on the EastEnders script-writing team.

Consider Tommy Joy, a stalwart Exiles prop from the 1960s: “I remember Dick Spring [the full-back who would later rise to Deputy Taoiseach of the Dil] coming over; we shovelled concrete together on a building site in Hammersmith He did it for a couple of days, then went off to New York He was a very nice fellow He liked his pint and his parties. But I’d have to be honest and tell yer, he wasn’t much bloody good at shovelling concrete.”Of course, today’s pampered professionals are not required to shovel anything other than pound coins. They can still talk, though, and they do so in numbers to Donald McRae, whose Winter Colours (Mainstream, pounds 16.99) is this year’s most obvious attempt to give rugby reportage a literary gloss. McRae, himself South African, takes his Springbok upbringing as the launchpad for a meandering ramble through big-time union.

It has its lows and its longueurs, but few of its 387 pages miss the mark entirely. Indeed, McRae’s opening salvo, an emotional examination of his own apartheid- scarred sporting background, is easily the most involving piece of rugby writing of the last 12 months. If the rest of the book fails to maintain this early momentum, the failure is wholly understandable.. ALTHOUGH THE first Davis Cup match was played in 1900, the centenary of the event has been brought forward a year, possibly to avoid clashing with other celebrations, such as those marking the 21st century and the millennium.