In my 40 years of journalism, nothing has felt remotely as difficult as writing this, because the emotions are still so raw.
A few weeks ago, I bade ‘happy travels’ to my dear friend and long-time New Zealand Herald sports writing colleague David Leggat, who was getting ready for a family adventure in Europe.
David and his wife Jacqui Bensemann were travelling with one son, and meeting up with the other in London. This is what life should be all about, the joy of anticipation, fresh fields, with the people who mean the most.
Now, I am writing a tribute to “Leggo”, who has passed away suddenly while swimming in Lake Como, Italy, at the age of 64.
It feels heart-breaking and surreal, and the mourners will include – I can safely say – much of the sports writing and media community around New Zealand. For he was a truly unique and special character, of unforgettable charisma, warmth and charm.
David Leggat was long a central part of our industry and in recent years the undisputed elder statesman.
He started out at the The Press when a major newspaper still had room for club table tennis coverage, he worked for the New Zealand Press Association as sports boss and London-based representative, and he had a number of roles at the New Zealand Herald/NZME including sports editor.
Sports readers will know him through his coverage of just about everything, from his first calling – cricket – to Commonwealth and Olympic Games, Rugby World Cups, and so much more.
Sports writers will remember him just as much for the bonhomie, the generous nature, the endless stories, the tag of being a champion tourist during the age of long sports tours, the cutting critiques of no discernible malice, the natural ability to take humble command, the self-deprecating humour, the overall humour, the phrases, the lunches, the afternoon teas, the morning teas.
He has left an impact on so many people, but this story really summed him up.
Sports broadcaster Andrew Alderson recalled – with reverence – being a nervous rookie on a New Zealand cricket tour and hearing a knock on his hotel door.
Leggat - the veteran - was going out of his way, making sure the newbie knew about the touring media dinner and felt welcome. Alderson has never forgotten this simple yet easily overlooked gesture.
My favourite Leggat travel story concerned the 2002 Commonwealth Games, which we covered in Manchester.
Leggo was in charge of the company’s cash and for two days I’d lived on meagre rations until we managed to meet up, so he could hand over a pile of twenty-pound notes.
Within the hour I was eagerly licking my lips at a curry house, only to be told the money was no longer legal tender. Before leaving Auckland, Leggo had apparently grabbed leftover cash from a previous overseas assignment.
I can’t recall his response to my despair and rumbling stomach, but it may have been along the lines of “sorry about that champ”. He loved the word “champ”.
His own stories went on much longer than those above, and they might be described as a series of detours expertly cobbled together.
-By Chris Rattue
