Two years ago, the Otago rugby team seemed only able to knock the ball on. The seagulls at Carisbrook threatened to outnumber spectators. Then, a particular match drew a big crowd. Why?
Because Sonny Bill Williams was playing with the visiting Canterbury team.
The SBW phenomenon continues to surge. The man with poise and power, with bulging biceps and an Adonis-like build has burst through conventional sporting behaviour like the gifted and fresh second-five that he is.
These are my terms, he says. Like them or lump them. And that's what everyone does, from All Blacks coaches down.
Williams is off to Japan for up to 12 rugby games - in a deal reported to be worth $1.7 million - and then, in all probability, will roost for at least a year in Australia's National Rugby League competition. Meanwhile, he boxes on in another ring. The heavyweight champion of New Zealand, not that the title carries much weight, punches above even his not inconsiderable 108kg.
How can he do this?
Why do the various authorities seemingly kowtow to his wishes?
Look to his talents, his history and his potential. And then turn to the nature of sport, to the cult of celebrity and to the wants of modern society.
For many, Williams, himself abnormal, provides a largely harmless popular distraction from routine worries and concerns.
Much of the magnetism is in his athleticism and his good looks.
He oozes a combination of pulchritude and talent, with just a sufficient streak of a "bad-boy" past to intrigue. These days, he casts an enigmatic smile, a slurp of charm and an assured confidence - all sans an off-putting arrogance (at least for many). He was willing, for example, to apologise for failing to pass the ball to unmarked outside backs in the last moments of the Chiefs' Super 15 loss to the Crusaders last Friday night. It wasn't always like that. When he walked out of his contract with Sydney league club the Bulldogs he was listed by some as the most hated man in Australia, more even than the Bali bomber.
Williams began his rugby career in Toulon, France, a club whose owner made his fortune in comic books. He has a controversial manager in Khoder Nassar and associates with contentious boxer and former league star Anthony Mundine. Like Mundine, he converted to Islam.
Unproven, the New Zealand Rugby Union took a punt when it signed him for two years, and he was in the winning All Black World Cup team, albeit as a bit-part player.
Sometimes, leading performers undermine team harmony and success when they are given special treatment. Sometimes, they alienate their professional sport bosses. Not so Williams.
He's managed to fashion new contract moulds and move to fresh challenges all while leaving on good terms.
Remember the rugby union bought his services more for his star power and potential rather than his playing prowess. It can have few complaints: he enticed the crowds and the television viewers. Marketing is a key in the business of professional sport and Williams was a central figure in that.
Human beings have always had a yearning to exalt, and sometimes tear down, celebrities.
There's a plausible argument these days that, thanks to some modern media and reality television, celebrities can be created with little substance: they are famous for being famous, as the cliche goes. In Williams' instance, the fame, and the fortune too, has a robust basis in reality.
Society need not be overly anxious about celebrating celebrities, as long as a sense of perspective and realism is maintained. In some ways, the followers of celebrity - such as those interested in the latest Hollywood reports of the divorce of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes - are similar to sports fans. Their interest is a welcome distraction from the deeper cares of the world, from the serious and important news and from the worries of everyday lives. Sport, the public and the media crave celebrities, and in that regard Sonny Bill Williams has been a knockout success.
