In an unguarded moment, the human side of genuine legend Sir Colin Meads was revealed

Alex Broun 08:07 21/08/2017
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  • Meads played 133 times for the All Blacks, including 55 Tests.

    By modern standards Sir Colin Meads was small. At 1.92m and 102kg he is nowhere near the bulk of current All Blacks lock Brodie Retallick (2.04m and 121kg) but such was Meads’ ferocity that he appeared to tower over much larger opponents, earning the nickname “Pinetree”.

    Although he was often brutal on the field Meads was a true gentleman off it, a perfect example of the golden era of amateur rugby – and even at the height of his playing prowess he still maintained his sheep farm in the heart of his beloved King Country.

    The stories about Meads’ “tough as teak” style are legendary and many Kiwis regard him as the archetypal New Zealander – able to walk straight off the paddock on to the field and then straight back afterwards.

    Although Kiwis rightfully claim him as the greatest ever All Black, alongside Richie McCaw, his career was laced with controversy.

    In 1986 he was elected to the All Blacks selection panel only to be axed soon after for acting as coach of the rebel New Zealand Cavaliers on their tour of South Africa.

    It was not until six years later when he was forgiven and reinstated to the NZRU Council.

    He was then appointed as All Blacks manager in 1994, a position he held for the 1995 Rugby World Cup in a place he loved to visit more than any other – South Africa.

    It was there where I first met the great man and like many others who had the good fortune of rubbing shoulders with Pinetree it was a meeting I’ll never forget.

    I was at the RWC as a young journalist covering my first major tournament and was stationed on the high veldt, far away from the Wallabies who were in Cape Town. Assigned to cover New Zealand – a cocky young Aussie reporting on the All Blacks. Sure recipe for disaster.

    The first press conference was just days before the All Blacks opening match against Ireland at Ellis Park. All the talk was of the new sensation, 20-year-old Jonah Lomu, back then not well known outside New Zealand.

    I sat down the front and when Meads asked for the first question I sharply piped up something along the lines of: “So this Jonah Lomu, (probably mis-pronounced) is he any good?”

    Meads looked at me, a withering stare, and in his best deadpan droll said: “Well, he’s faster than me.”

    The Kiwi media burst into laughter as the Aussie was cut down to size. Suffice to say I was pretty quiet for the next few days.

    As the tournament developed however, and my questions improved, my rapport with Sir Colin got better and by the final weeks he was often looking for me at the start of a media session to get things started with a “softy.”

    I would oblige in the hope he would give me a few private words later or tee me up to chat with captain Sean Fitzpatrick, something he did to my eternal gratitude the day before the historic 1995 RWC final. An interview that sent me on the way to becoming a fully fledged rugby journalist.

    The only time I ever saw Meads resembling anything less than the tower of strength he was came just after the All Blacks had lost that famous final.

    A gaunt and grey Pinetree, due to the food poisoning that had affected much of the team, appeared in the media area before the presser.

    He stood for a moment near the front table and I went over to him to give my commiserations.

    As I got nearer he looked up and saw me and suddenly he became unsteady. He reached out his hand to support himself and grabbed the nearest thing he could – me.

    And there I was, the legendary Pinetree, leaning on my shoulder, minutes after the All Blacks had just lost the most famous rugby game of all time.

    Seconds later Fitzpatrick arrived, and the powerhouse Pinetree instantly returned. But it was a very human moment from a legend that I never forgot.

    What I remember from that press conference is that Meads never mentioned the food poisoning – the “Suzy” saga emerged later. He didn’t want to make any excuses for the surprise loss of his great side, though it clearly cut him to the quick.

    He just copped it on the chin and paid his respects to the opponent.

    Perfectly sums up the legendary Pinetree.

    People often wonder how would Meads fare in the professional age?

    It’s a moot point as the eras were so different. He never did a weights session in his life, carried sheep for fitness and played in a time where rucking was still legal.

    When he was once asked the question he replied: “Today they’re a stone heavier, four inches taller.

    Still, we talk over a drink or two and we seem to think we’d do all right.” Got to agree with that.

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