‘Pinetree’ got his strength by cutting down trees
Brendan Gallagher remembers the great Sir Colin Meads who died last weekend at 81
THE iconic image of Colin Meads is of him striding around the wilderness with a sheep tucked under each arm – the epitome of earthly fitness and Kiwi manliness. But it was the other gruelling work he did on the family’s Te Kuiti farm that was the making of the man. And the rugby player.
Meads certainly did his fair share of strenuous sheep shearing and dipping – and indeed helping out with neighbouring farms as is the way when it gets busy.
The photograph of him with an ewe under each arm was a one-off caught by snapper Peter Bush during a lighthearted afternoon horsing around taking ‘at home’ pictures which Meads was always at pains to point out when you met him.
No, for decades Meads real ‘workout’ and probably the key to his success was the endless lumberjacking required to clear and fence hundreds of acres of the wildly overgrown hilly scrubland that made up nearly half of the family’s plot.
Nothing stopped the day’s labour – broken fingers, saw cuts, splinters, bee stings – they were all occupational hazards. You don’t have to be a psychologist to see how seamlessly he transferred that uncompromising mental approach onto the rugby pitch. Ditto his younger brother and fellow All Black Stan, always known as Snow on account of his blonde mop.
“Dad had a 400-acre block of what we call scrub, and in summer you’d have to chop back this scrub,” recalled Meads. “We’d have to cut it back by hand, slash it back and keep it under control. You were working like bloody hell. It was summer work and we used to pray for the rugby season to come round, because it meant we could knock off early to go training.
“We just got fit naturally on the farm. The scrub clearing was incredibly physical while some of the greatest athletes and performers I ever saw were the local sheepshearers, people like Godfrey and Ivan Bowen, the world record holders, who could shear 400 ewes or more in a nine-hour shift. They just rolled up their sleeves and got stuck in.”
Bowen’s never-to-be-equalled world record by the way is 456 ewes in nine hours one long day in 1953, an Olympian performance that in due course earned an OBE as well as Meads unreserved admiration.
Bowen’s world was Meads’ world, both were New Zealand writ large. When Meads turned out at Waitete RFC, King Country or for New Zealand he was always ‘good to go’. That was a given. His ilk were unwitting pioneers of the ‘train hard play easy culture’ today’s generation rather think they invented.
So intensely physical was Meads’ life you fancy that, rather like a top cyclist, his body would start seizing up and go into recovery mode if he ever stopped for a couple of days. He had to keep on the move. On more than one occasion he turned out for Waitete the day after appearing in a Test match.
Very little stopped him. In South Africa one time he famously played on for the rest of the game despite breaking an arm against Eastern Transvaal at Springs in 1970 while he was everpresent against the 1971 Lions despite being badly hampered by a painful rib injury he picked up playing for Kings Country against the tourists. Occupational hazards. Get on with the job
Today ‘Pinetree’ Meads would undoubtedly pack down at blindside wingforward rather than at lock and, indeed, he played some early Tests in the backrow before switching to second row. He was around 6ft 4 ins and that is probably being generous but such was his ‘presence’ he often seemed taller. Or perhaps opponents just shrivelled in his presence.
Meads famously never bothered with warm-ups. Indeed, an old superstition meant he wouldn’t change into his kit until half an hour before kickoff. The haka was the only warm-up he required.
Energy drinks, electrolytes, water? “Hardly ever, maybe a quarter of orange at half-time if I was lucky. I was never convinced about the need to take liquids on board.”
Swimming? Never in the rugby season: “It softened up and relaxed your muscles. If I was sore after a game, I’d go for a jog.”
Hydration? “We used to have two or three beers after training, always. We were allowed too – we weren’t breaking any rules. We always had a big session after every game. We never had water on the field – we were never allowed to have water before a game. We’d have a cup of tea at lunchtime, and that was your last drink until after you played, because we were told by experts that if we drank water we’d get cramp.”
Such an attitude to hydration was far from unique. During the early and mid-60s – Meads’ pomp – five time Tour de France winner Jaques Anquetil took the same approach into his races, steadfastly refusing all liquid although he would drink his fill and more during the evening. Strange how the thinking – and science – changes with time.
Meads was old fashioned in other ways. In these days of 24/7 social media, email and mobile phones the feeling of being on tour 12,000 miles away in Britain is very different for an All Black than it was 50 or 60 years ago when players could be away from wives, families and sweethearts for upwards of five months. Meads had a very well defined way of keeping the homefires burning, namely a weekly letter to Verna his wife for nearly 60 years.
“It was difficult on tour. In the old days a phone call cost a bloody fortune and even if you could get a line it would be the wrong end of the day for the family back home, too early or too late. Either one of you can be tired or just busy needing to do something else. It wasn’t ideal. So our method was a weekly letter each way when you could get all your news together in one go and reply in one go.”
It was some career by any standards: 360 first class games with 133 appearances for the All Blacks including 55 Tests, eleven of which were against the Lions. Only Richie McCaw has ever pulled on the All blacks jersey on more occasions.
Different eras and playing schedules, of course, but bear in mind that New Zealand averaged barely five Tests a year during Meads’ 15 years as an international – 1964 was his busiest year with six – as opposed to the 12-14 which is commonplace these days. It’s not unreasonable to guestimate that had Meads played in the modern era he, too, would have won well in excess of 125 caps.
Bob Scott was Meads’ schoolboy hero and he learned to kick in his honour and even landed a left footed dropped goal his senior debut for King Country – at lock – against Counties at the age of 17. The remaining 359 games didn’t produce anymore such kicks. First and last.
A New Zealand Colts tour to Sri Lanka followed and in 1956 Meads played for North Island against South in effectively the final New Zealand trial for the Springboks games. He didn’t make it but later considered his omission a lucky break. Johan Claasen took him to the cleaners when Wanganui-King Country met the tourists during that tour. It was too early even for Meads.
He made his New Zealand debut as a flanker against Australia in 1957 – All Black 583 – and although featuring strongly over the coming two seasons even Meads was not above being dropped. He was axed for the first Test against the 1959 Lions, a huge disap-
“So physical was Meads’ life, his body would start seizing up if he stopped for a couple of days”
pointment but with New Zealand picking up injuries he returned for the second Test and from that moment, barring injury, was the mainstay of the New Zealand pack until 1971.
New Zealand may have narrowly lost the 1960 series against the Boks but Meads was a force of nature throughout and established himself as one of the great players in world rugby, and in 1963 he toured Britain for the first time playing 24 of the 36 matches.
Meads was no angel, let’s not ignore the elephant in the room. He was a great rugby player, much more skilful than some will acknowledge and a force of nature but he was also the meanest of enforcers during those wild west days when, in the absence of replays and TMOs, self-policing was the norm.
Ironically his 76th minute dismissal against Scotland at Murrayfield in 1967 was probably a tad unlucky with many willing to accept he was making a genuine attempt to fly-hack a loose ball when his boot made contact with Alan Hastie. Certainly, the Scotland fly-half jumped up immediately, no harm done, and went over to Meads and gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder to signify he was ok with everything. Referee Kevin Kelleher thought otherwise.
But Meads got away with plenty, it evened itself out over the years. He knocked out David Watkins – half his size – with a punch when the Lions toured in 1966 and broke Jeff Young’s jaw with a short-armed jab when Wales visited in 1969. It should be added that Watkins bore him no malice and wrote to him in 1967 insisting his dismissal at Murrayfeld had been wrong.
Meads also ended the legendary Ken Catchpole’s first class career in 1968 when he grabbed the Aussie’s leg when he was pinned under a ruck and managed to tear Catchpole’s hamstring off the bone and rupture groin muscles. England, meanwhile, were amazed he had avoided sanction during their tour of New Zealand in 1963. Nor did age mellow him, as former England skipper Budge Rogers recalls.
“Meads was a hell of a player, I had a lot of admiration for him and indeed New Zealand rugby generally, but he could be a bit naughty. We always had some very tough durable guys in England teams but we never really bred players like Colin, it wasn’t in our DNA. I remember in one of the Tests back in 1963 Micky Steele Bodger ran the line for us in most of the matches and I have this ever-lasting image of him jumping up and down and screaming blue murder when I dropped on a ball and got a boot in my back from Colin Meads for my trouble.
“Fast forward eight years or so and I got another kick in the back from Colin in the Presidents match at Twickenham. As I got up he said: ‘That’s for Waka’. Long memories those Kiwis. Back in 1967 I had been playing for the East Midlands against the All Blacks and was having my usual ding dong battle with Waka (Nathan) at the back of the line out. He was a great player but used to get away with absolute murder and finally I let him have one and connected so sweetly that I broke his cheekbone.
“Anyway four years later, in a celebration gala game in front of packed house at Twickenham, it was payback time. That’s how it was in those days but we enjoyed a good drink afterwards.”
Meads’ old school approach never deserted him and I recall his disappointment at the All Blacks reaction to theBrian O’Driscoll spear tackle incident in 2005. By happy chance I had been invited to join him and Willie John McBride for a few drinks in a Wellington watering hole just a couple of days after the foul deed. Both were shaking their heads sadly
“Tana should have been round the Lions team hotel on Saturday night with a crate of beer,” fumed an animated Meads. “It might have been frosty to start with but the thaw would have soon started. There’s a lot of merit in the old ways. He should have made it his urgent business to seek out his opposite number first thing after the game.”
Meads, who dished out more stick than most, was always the first Kiwi to invite himself into the opposition changing room post-match for a yarn and to face and music if need be. There might have been ulterior motives as well
“As Willie John knows I was always nipping into the Lions changing room. You guys always had the grog. The All Blacks used to get sent crates of the stuff by breweries all over New Zealand but we used to sell it off to make a few bob for the team kitty or to help some of the team who had to employ extra hands on their farms back home when they were away or had got injured playing for the Blacks.”
McBride was having none of that. “Bugger off, Colin, you came around because you’re a good bloke and you enjoyed the craic after the game. And you had the thirst of a coalminer. You insisted on coming out with us after the Wellington Test in 1971 when we went 21 up. You’d been captain for the first time during that series and you must have been hurting badly, but you matched us pint for pint. It probably sounds old- fashioned but you honoured us by sharing our special night.”
A Colin Meads Appreciation Society gather in Auckland on June 3 every year to commemorate Meads’ birthday dressed in No 5 All Black jerseys and scrumcaps to quaff ale. Sometimes they opt for lumberjack boots, jeans and checked shirts, Meads’ alternate strip so to speak. I like to think that habit will continue for a while yet.