European Cup quarter-finals/Leicester v Bath: Fifteen years after his first meeting with fierce rivals Bath, veteran Leicester prop Graham Rowntree tells Robert Kitson of his big-game nerves.

In some ways nothing has changed since Graham Rowntree and Bath first collided 15 years ago. In the amateur era, Leicester celebrated victories in the Georgian city by piling into the King William pub on their way home, sometimes staying until the early hours. Last Saturday, having beaten their hosts in a soggy aperitif to today's European Cup quarter-final, Rowntree called for tradition to be upheld. The Tigers stayed for a quick one but the winning pints tasted as sweet as ever.

Such is the resonance of Bath-Leicester contests, particularly when last orders are being called on Rowntree's career as a full-time prop. He will be 35 this month and a new club role awaits as a specialist scrum coach and less regular player. After 52 England caps and almost 400 games for Leicester there may not be any more successful Bath trips as a player.

Few are more acquainted than Rowntree with the delicious, terrifying cocktail of match-day emotions: the roaring crowd, the expectant hush and the first monumental scrum, shoulders, neck and spine absorbing the thunderous impact of opponents probing for shards of weakness. Prop forward is no place for past-it old-timers.

Rowntree is neither, even 18 years after joining Tigers' youth structure from Nuneaton Colts. "I thought it would get better with age but I'm still s******g myself on a Saturday morning. I can't eat anything for four or five hours before a game.

"It's not the fear of losing, necessarily, it's more the knowledge of what's coming. The trench warfare, the intensity . . . your body readies itself for battle and everything starts churning inside."

He pauses, not for dramatic effect but because the process has begun already. "I'm starting to get that feeling now just from talking about it. I'll definitely miss it. People say the big games fly by and it's true. It's about keeping your head on and staying calm, especially if you go points down."

It was ever thus against Bath, the kings of English club rugby before Leicester nicked their crown. Both Rowntree and his old front-row ally Richard Cockerill reckon the best Bath-Leicester scrap was in January 1996 when the Tigers won 15-14 and stayed in the King William past midnight. The Bath boys were not invited. "Certainly not. We'd always get on with them individually but there was always this hatred between the clubs. It's not as intense now but I'm sure it'll rear its head again."

Suddenly, though, Rowntree finds himself a relic of a bygone era. No Englishman has played more European Cup games - today is his 59th - and he and Austin Healey are the only starting survivors from the Tigers' first European final against Brive nine years ago.

Mates like Darren Garforth, Martin Johnson and John Wells are no longer around.

"I don't feel lonely but you do start to feel old. If I hadn't been playing for such a successful club I don't think I'd still be doing it. That said, I'm not surprised I've lasted this long. It's what I was born to do."

Rowntree is among the reasons why a generation of Leicester primary school children, asked to count to 10 , would instinctively mumble: "A, B, C . . ." The Tigers replaced the traditional letters on their jerseys with numbers only in 1998; Rowntree wore "A" for application, his bond with Cockerill and Garforth unbreakable. For a boy who failed his A levels, rugby has given him much in return for his physical investment.

"I spent eight years working in insurance: training before work, coming back late from my lunch hour and chasing Jonno round a bloody athletics track on Monday nights . . I never could keep up with him.

"We all did it tough. Cockerill was restoring furniture, Garforth was in scaffolding but we never thought anything of it. All we wanted to do was play rugby. I want to go into coaching and, without wishing to bore the youngsters, I think I've got something to offer. But for the forseeable future I'll still be available to play."

Rowntree thinks the game is tougher than only two years ago. Which leads to his battle-scarred ears. With a jagged, crusty scab running vertically, Rowntree's infected right ear makes even sleeping difficult. "They're a bloody mess, I should have looked after them better. People say: 'Why don't you wear a headguard?' I would if I could hear and it made any difference. Even rolling over in bed is awkward; I stick to the pillow.

"It might affect my modelling contracts after rugby, unless someone wants me to advertise balaclavas."

Whatever he promotes, they will not buy it in Bath.

Guardian Service