George Ford has had to scrap for every single one of his 93 England caps. Securing the fly-half berth has never been easy and this Six Nations is no different. Would he have started the opening two games if Marcus Smith was fit? Should in-form Fin Smith have been given the opportunity?
Throughout his Test career Ford has faced elite competition from the likes of Owen Farrell and Danny Cipriani before the Smiths appeared on the scene. But what has kept him at the very top, and even set him apart from the rest is his all-round, metronomical kicking game. And it is no accident.
The best of the best have long sought out the man widely regarded as the greatest kicking coach in rugby, Dave Alred. Jonny Wilkinson, Johnny Sexton and Beauden Barrett have all done so with Ford becoming Alred’s protege over a decade ago as Wilkinson’s retirement beckoned.
The pair have worked tirelessly together and, although their working relationship is now informal, Ford and his mentor still talk regularly. This year's main focus has been less technical than in year's past, focusing instead on Ford's attitude - and by that Alred means Ford's desire and drive to continue honing his skills at the age of 30.
With Alred's fabled reputation and continued importance to England's fly-half, Telegraph Sport wanted to see what the fuss was about. It has been said that anyone who steps onto a pitch with Alred walks off it with one word in mind - genius. And it took me just 30 seconds to share this opinion.
![Dave Alred with Jonny Wilkinson in 1999](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/events/Kicking%20Split%20pic.jpg?imwidth=350)
On a clear day in Bristol, we meet and I outline my credentials as a once decent but still playing 35-year-old fly-half. Kicking has always been a strength of mine and, after nearly 30 years of doing it, I was intrigued to see what the doyen would make of me.
Alred and I head out onto the field. But, to my surprise, instead of heading towards the post to hone my kicking he directs us towards a fence. It will be a while before I am ready for the posts, it seems.
I strike the ball into the fence repeatedly. Alred is not fussed about where it goes, he just wants me to work at 40 per cent power and make sure that my body is going through the ball. After my very first kick, I hear a “right” from behind me. He’s already spotted a flaw.
When I kick (right-footed) I have a tendency to hop towards the target on my left foot. It’s something I’ve done for decades. Alred quickly snaps that out of me.
“Take shorter steps,” he explains.
By now bringing my right foot down, it drags all my momentum through the ball and towards the target. My body weight is now helping power the kick, instead of just my right leg.
Decades of wasted kicking power unleashed in a matter of minutes, but the changes do not stop there as Alred’s genius kicks into overdrive, adding layer after layer. Next he completely changes my hand placement on the ball when drop-kicking for restarts.
I go from holding the middle of the ball to spreading my entire hand across its base, which immediately results in a more consistent drop. Next is where I’m dropping the ball - he wants it under my navel, not out in front. Layer upon layer of tweaks that result in the ball thudding off my foot exactly how I want it.
He tells me later he knew where we needed to get to early on, but he did not want to overload me with new information. Tweak introduced, tweak mastered and then another tweak. No wonder the world's best are enamoured.
![Alred teaching Gareth](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/events/Frame%206%20(5).jpg?imwidth=350)
Next we go from a 'C-kicking shape' to a 'J-kicking shape' as a C-shape kicker will impact the ball with their instep and the kicking leg will come across the body. The J-shape kicker, however, enables you to get the body flowing towards the target. Everything he’s saying makes complete sense. But I can’t quite get my body to do it.
This is where Alred’s so clever.
Sensing I’m getting frustrated at not being able to deliver what I’m desperately trying to do, he turns to me and says: “Can I tell you something? There’s a reason why Quasimodo never kicked goals.” His use of language, and humour, is powerful.
He tells me to dominate the ball - a deliberate word he uses to force me to become physically imposing. So, with the vision of the hunched bell-ringer of Notre Dame in my mind, I suddenly open up, standing tall.
It’s exactly what he wants from me. “There you go, no bells,” he quips, as I improve.
As eloquent and well-spoken as Alred is, he is also an accomplished swearer as you are ever likely to meet. “I need a bit more aggression in this next one. You’re looking at that and there’s a little bit of f--- you about it. You’ve got to mean this now. Come on.”
We move through punts out of hand, and he reassures me that my DNA is trying to pull me away from the new things I’m learning.
Then we come onto the big one of goal-kicking. But what he’s done, masterfully, is make all these changes before we get there.
“I’ll give you a decent tee in a minute,” he says, tossing me a kicking tee he has designed himself. Alred knows exactly what height I need after watching me kick just one. Of course he does.
Alred asks me where I’m lining up at the back of my mark. I think it’s a trick question.
“The ball, Dave,” I say with apprehension.
“But why?” he challenges me.
He asks me to show him where I want my planting foot to go and points out that physics will not allow me to get my foot there if I walk straight at the ball.
So, I changed something I’ve been doing for over 25 years. By doing this, it allows all the other things he’s taught me to slot into place and it’s the cleanest contact of the first 30 minutes.
I turn around, dumfounded, and there he is - beaming and excited that he’s worked his magic again. “That’s absolutely ridiculous,” I laugh.
Grinning, with his arms outstretched, he responds: “Theeeere we go! Outstanding!”
![Gareth kicking](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/events/Frame%206%20(1).jpg?imwidth=350)
He makes that my blueprint, shows me what it looks like on camera, and we repeat, repeat, repeat.
When I overthink it, he gets me doing a drop shunt followed immediately by a kick off the tee to get my flow back. Now he’s got me heading in the right direction, he gets forensic and starts to fine tune. He watches me make good contact with a kick, but is slides left.
“I’ll show you why in a minute, keep going. There’s a reason for it.”
He gets his phone out and shows me the recording of my kick. As I fall away in my follow through, the ball goes left with it.
Alred used train tracks to help me visualise the one after one particular kick slid off to the left. Picture the train tracks, he tells me. The far rail goes straight through the ball and in a straight line goes directly through the middle of the posts. The near rail is for my body. If I can get my body to follow through down the line of the first rail track, the ball will follow parallel down the second rail. If I stray left, the ball will follow left with me. If I go right, the ball will go parallel to the right too.
Next he unpicks my mindset as Alred gets to work on my visualisation. He crouches next to me, and gets his notebook out. The kicker’s Bible, right there in the great man’s hands.
He flicks the page and dedicates a page in the book to me. Gareth Davies joins Sexton, Wilkinson, Ford, and Beauden Barrett.
![Alred's drawing](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/events/Frame%208%20%282%29.jpg?imwidth=350)
An hour into the session, it is finally time to line up for the posts for the first time. I’m itching to put all these things into action.
We take the ball 35m out, in front of the posts where I should be looking at a 90 per cent success rate from there. But a week prior I missed two from three from that range.
We end up hitting 22 kicks, and I knock 21 over. And I’m not even thinking about all those wonderful tweaks, changes and jibes by this stage.
As we wrap up, Alred turns to me and says: “Now you can be better - you really can. You did really well. We did a little repair, but the key thing for you is that you get your body used to going through your ball.
“With your knowledge now - you’re happy it went over, but by being obsessive about getting it right every time, there’s no complacency.
“We don’t settle for ‘that’ll do’. Every time it’s: ‘F---, I need to really nail this’.”
I walk off feeling 18 again, keen to spend the hours on the training pitch like I used to.
Dave Alred is, indeed, a genius.
Alred’s session with me (and what he does with his pros)
![Gareth playing rugby](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/events/Frame%208%20%281%29.jpg?imwidth=350)
At a fence
Spiral - 10 mins (20 kicks at 40%)
Drop shunt - 10 mins (20 kicks at 40%)
Punting - 10 mins (20 kicks at 40%)
Kicks off tee - 15 mins (20 kicks at 60%)
At posts
Kicks at goal - 30 mins (20 kicks at 80%)
Total: 1 hr 15 mins / 100 kicks / 60% of session at 40% effort / 20% of session at 60% / effort 20% of session at 80% effort
What I was doing in sessions before my training with Alred
Kicks at goal- 40 mins (30 kicks at 100%)
Kicks out of hand with mixture of spirals and punts - 20 mins (10 kicks at 100%)
Restart drop kicks - 20 mins (10 kicks at 100%)
Total: 1hr 20 mins / 50 kicks / all at 100% effort