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Er Cof - In Memory

Phillip Charles Butler

Phillip ‘Wolfie’ Butler’s sudden passing came as an incredible shock to all which, when it subsided, was replaced by the most solemn sadness.

He was from an era, sadly long past. Born at the tender age of sixty, Phillip was moulded not by his own peers or the 'Swinging Sixties,' but by the wartime generation. His was a sense of duty, fairness and aiding others. He played a huge part in the Waterton Wanderers fixtures, rallying younger players to turn up early on a Sunday morning because: "It might not be important to you... but it is to them." The young listened, turned up and were glad they did.

Since he joined Maesteg Harlequins in the early 1970s, Phil threw himself into the club with his trademark, inexhaustible gusto. As a player he moved from full-back to prop! The different statures for each position suggests he wasn’t the biggest of front-row forwards. This was indeed true, but he most certainly was far more than his pound for pound worth. With sinewy muscles honed at the coal-face, ‘Wolfie’ was extremely strong. His best years at the scrum-face was in partnership with Alan Hill and Terry Thomas who, while not the biggest triumvirate certainly formed a formidable unit.

Those who really knew Phillip have claimed Maesteg Harlequins brought a painfully introverted individual from out of his shell. What Phillip Butler gave back to the Quins can be considered immeasurable. 

After making 395 appearances, scoring eighty-three points including fifteen tries along the way, Phillip didn’t don the shirt again but remained active within the club. A committeeman not long after he first joined the club, he fulfilled the role with his usual diligence and high levels of hard work. When our headquarters were purchased and reconfigured, ‘Wolfie’ was an ever-present member of the works team, before and after an eight hours shift underground.

For many years ‘Wolfie’ was the ever-present trainer on Saturday afternoons, racing onto the field with his sponge and bucket to reach, it has to be said, his hapless victims. Perhaps his most celebrated quarry was a belligerent second-row who, much to the ‘Wolf’s’ chagrin, had put it about once to often. Gloating when asking the Quins player he had struck ‘Are you alright, butty,’ Phillip passed comment as he treated the stricken player.

Asking Phil, ‘What are you going to do about it old man?’ ‘Wolf’s’ response was as quick as it was decisive. He laid out the offending player, who hit the ground at the same time as the sponge Phillip dropped prior to hitting him. All this played out in front of WRU committeemen, who came to assess the club’s fitness to be awarded WRU status. The fact the club trainer laid out an opposing player may have planted a seed of doubt in the committeemen’s minds.

This is where the crux of Phillip Charles Butler lies… he just did things, usually the jobs that needed to be done with a grunt and head down. Manual work such as rodding the sewage pipes.

Butler's biggest legacy are the stories about the things he just did. They abound in every sphere and tell of his 'head down and get on with it' philosophy. Some of his ideas worked, some were shall we say 'less successful; such as his pigeon training methods for one. The other was his warm body rub mixture, aimed to ease aching muscles. It could have rivalled Ralgex, but for it not providing any heat to alleviate pain. However, when added to water, many was the player who would run screaming from the shower as though swamped by lava, to manually remove the embrocation. After all these years, Porton Down still hasn't discovered the potion's ingredients.

Then, of course, there is 'Bugler Butler.' The man who would notify the imbibing Maesteg public of the Sawyers Arms [illicit] Sunday opening by blasting a rendition of 'Reveille' across the still town.

On the field, his ‘militant miner’ speech to a somewhat stunned CIACS prop has stood the test of time. On tour there are a plethora of tales from “I’m paying, they’re staying,’ to ‘What’s this, beat the clock?’ All will mean something to those who know.

Then there are Phillip’s antics in the club. His tactics to exterminate rodents, put members at greater risk than the rats he was trying to eradicate. The ‘Ragnar’ sagas which were based on Wolf’s paramour travails, brought the house down.

After a car accident in which he was a passenger, Phillip appeared as a star witness for the prosecution. When called to the dock, the case was quickly adjourned after he responded to the question: ‘Explain your version of events of what happened on the day in question.’

“Well, your Honour. Do you know what, he came at us from out of nowhere. He hit us like an unattached cage hitting pit bottom and I thought I was on my way to Boot Hill.”

There are many more anecdotes about this complicated, sometimes brooding character, who could equally cause fits of hysteria and has left a thousand stories behind.

The club’s deepest condolences are extended to Phillip’s family. We too grieve at the loss of a mighty Quins character, who was as rugged as the coal seams he dug. His mark on the club is a substantial one, but now it is time to bid a fond farewell. Phil, you’ve done an immense amount of good down here on Earth, now go make your place in the celestial paradise. The pleasure was all ours.

Mae cariad Iesu’n drech na hwy.