A good Kiwi bloke

Sir Colin Meads was a giant not just on the rugby field but in New Zealand history.

Every sport and every nation needs its heroes and Sir Colin was right up there.

He was revered  because of his deeds and because of who he was.  He was not only chosen as the  No 1 rugby player of the 20th century but became known well beyond the world of sport.

New Zealanders love their idols to be humble and self-deprecating and the greatest of them all was, of course, Sir Edmund Hillary.  

But Sir Colin was up in the next tier, one of the best-known and most esteemed New Zealanders.

He played 55 tests over 15 years and 133 matches in total for the All Blacks.  If internationals had been  played at today’s rates,  even Richie McCaw’s 148 tests might have trailed in Sir Colin’s  wake.

Stories abound about his hardness and commitment on the field.  He was feared as an enforcer who, pre-modern telecasts, could ensure the All Black forwards took no nonsense. He played on in South Africa with a broken arm and,  supposedly, trained on his farm with a fencepost under his arm.  Yet, off the field he was renowned for his friendliness, even gentleness.

Stories abound about his generosity with his time, how he would never refuse an autograph, never put on airs, never abuse his fame and position.  This humility seemed so genuine and made him so likeable.  Sir Richard Hadlee, for example, New Zealand’s greatest cricketer, engenders respect and admiration for his feats, his skill and his determination — but  not the same love and veneration.

Like Sir Edmund, Sir Colin used his fame for good causes, notably IHC and the Rugby Foundation, the organisation for seriously injured players.  Like Sir Edmund, he was seen as "a good bloke", the ultimate of traditional New Zealand male compliments.

Because Sir Colin came from a farm near small-town Te Kuiti and because he spoke with such modesty and in such a straight-forward way, it was easy to underestimate his ability.  But anyone  who could speak so clearly and so well without notes and anyone who could coach and manage at the top level can be nobody’s fool.

Sir Colin made his mistakes, and coaching a rebel tour to South Africa was a blot on his escutcheon.  And his fronting for advertising for an ill-fated finance company was not his most glorious moment.  But Sir Colin’s good heart, his warmth and his generosity was such he was always accepted as a  New Zealand hero.  Who could not like the man?

How fitting the large statue to him could be unveiled in Te Kuiti in June, before his death from pancreatic cancer.  How fitting  has been the outpouring of positive reaction about him since the sad news was made public  yesterday.  How fitting, too, many southerners will be able to join in when New Zealand Rugby pays its respects to Sir Colin before the second Bledisloe Cup test in Dunedin on Saturday.

Sir Colin rampaged about the rugby field, revolutionising the lock position and he is still, arguably, New Zealand greatest All Black, with only McCaw alongside him.

Sir Colin leaves wonderful memories for generations of rugby followers. Stories about his deeds  will continue to be told as long as rugby is followed. 

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