Call the zambuks
Fergie McCormick was toughness personified.
Like Colin Meads, legendary Canterbury and All Blacks fullback Fergie McCormick, who died on April 10, was a byword for toughness and a renowned exponent of the take-no-prisoners style of rugby as it was played in the days before unblinking television scrutiny, yellow cards and disciplinary tribunals. And, as was also the case with Meads, McCormick’s physical prowess meant his considerable skill and unerring rugby instincts were often overlooked.
After being foolishly dropped from the All Blacks in 1971, McCormick played on for Canterbury until 1975. That season, so the story goes, a debutant Canterbury midfielder had a torrid afternoon trying to contain his much bigger opposite number. Late in the game, the rookie’s tormentor ran over the top of him and stormed towards the try line with only McCormick, 36 years old and no giant at 1.7m and 83kg, to beat.
There was a noise like a bulldozer backing over a picket fence. When the dust cleared, McCormick wandered back into position, having emerged unscathed from the titanic collision. Meanwhile, the zambuks were clustered around the would-be try-scorer, who was either writhing in agony or in a near-coma, depending on who was telling the story.
Canterbury captain Alex Wyllie, a notorious bruiser himself, loomed over the debutant. “You should be [expletive deleted] ashamed of yourself, you little [expletive deleted], leaving it to poor old Fergie to tackle that big [multiple expletives deleted].”