‘Being a rugby player
Already quite partial to the odd smart conversion, All Blacks legend Dan Carter has now turned his ultracompetitive nature to tackling a digital revolution. He talks to
FROM Drop Kicking Dan to Digital Dan, from the ABs to NFTs, it seems Dan Carter has moved out of rugby and into business with his usual surefooted and sparkle-faced aplomb.
Not that he’d say that. Phoning in from a remote family holiday, the man formerly known as All Black Dan Carter tells Sunday News he found his venture into cutting-edge digital technology baffling, at first.
Obviously, he got over his initial wariness. Wearing his new headgear as Glorious Digital co-founder, the 40-yearold talks enthusiastically for more than half an hour about non-fungible tokens (NFTs) and blockchain technology.
Whats? And whats? You say. Stay with us. It’s not as complex as the inner workings of a rugby maul, or the IRB law book. Understand those, and NFTs are a doddle.
When introduced to the concept of digital art that you can buy, own, on-sell and store on the blockchain (a digital warehouse, if you like) by PwC private business team partner Scott McLiver, Carter was ambivalent.
‘‘He was trying to upskill me on blockchain technology, cryptocurrencies and NFTs … like most people I said ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’.’’
McLiver persisted, sending him YouTube clip after YouTube clip. ‘‘He was trying to educate me, and it took about six months and then it clicked. I started to understand a little bit more,’’ Carter says.
‘‘I saw this as an incredible opportunity to bring creators or even sports people like me closer to their fans. That’s when the penny dropped. I thought OK, I understand the opportunity here.’’
Music industry guru Murray Thom felt the same way. And so Glorious was formed as ‘‘an amazing opportunity to put the artists first. We don’t need the middle man’’.
Oscar-winning film-maker Quentin Tarantino is into NFTs – selling screenshots from his epic movie Pulp Fiction. So is boxer Floyd Mayweather. So too Snoop Dogg; the popular rapper is an NFT collector who uses them and the internet to build a cultural connection between music and gaming.
In fact, a crop of celebrities dabble in NFTs, a format that allows them to own their own material and link directly with their fans, without the intrusion of a third party such as, for argument’s sake, Facebook, Spotify, Instagram and
Twitter. Add Gwyneth Paltrow, Eminem, Jimmy Fallon, Paris Hilton, Post Malone, Mark Cuban, basketballers Shaquille O’Neal and Steph Curry and tennis ace Serena Williams as among those involved.
And Carter, who retired from rugby last year? He helped set up New Zealandbased digital art company Glorious to market NFTs, and is throwing his whole ‘‘hate-to-lose’’ self into it.
Talking about the company, he doesn’t just throw his words out blandly, as a businessman or an All Black at a postmatch interview might. His enthusiasm bubbles down the phone.
He accentuates words such as amazing and love. There is audible passion.
Conversation flows, halted only by the arrival home of his four boisterous boys, all aged under 10.
He and their mother Honor – herself a former hockey international and Champions Challenge winner – have noted a competitive streak in the boys, Marco, Fox, Rocco and Cruz.
‘‘You don’t want to fill in in a competitive game of soccer with all of us, when the kids are included,’’ Carter laughs, saying that instilling the concept of sportsmanship is an ongoing parental focus.
Sport and sportsmanship is a way of life in the Carter household, and after retiring from rugby last year, Carter spent time with former Saatchi & Saatchi boss Kevin Roberts to examine what makes him tick.
‘‘I broke down who I am as a person, my character, my beliefs, the things that I loved from my life of being a professional rugby player. I wanted to bring that to my next chapter of life,’’ Carter says.
Surprise, surprise, this All Black legend, who was part of two World Cup champion sides and the leading points scorer in international rugby, discovered he has an obsession for winning.
But wait, there’s more . . . Carter is also dedicated to understanding ‘‘the art of winning’’. And he discovered he has a passion for ‘‘giving back’’, helping future leaders achieve their own goals, through advice and philanthropy.
Could that stem from the All Black principle of leaving the jersey in a better place than you found it? You would tend to think so.
Those Carter-Roberts forensics informed the foundation of Glorious, and its focus on the premium end of the NFT market. As well, Carter created the DC10 Fund to support vulnerable children and empower them to unleash their dreams by supporting Unicef.
And that led to the kickathon, where Carter dedicated himself last month to kicking 1598 goals over 24 hours on Eden Park, to raise money for children in the Pacific.
‘‘All the experiences and knowledge that come from being a rugby player, I can now transform into life after rugby,’’ Carter says. ‘‘[The kickathon] was a hugely, hugely motivating, inspiring thing to do something that I’m pretty passionate about.’’
Over the past year Glorious has picked up top talent – artists Fiona Pardington, Gordon Walters and the late Rita Angus, bands Six60 and Crowded House, Australian cricketer Steve Smith, and Carter himself.
After some head-scratching about where to sit in an ever-growing market, Glorious is targeting ‘‘authentic digital masterpieces’’ at the premium end,
Carter says. Premium, right where he placed his rugby aims. ‘‘It’s something where we can bring our creators, our collectors, or fans closer together; a glorious digital masterpiece worthy of sitting in pride of place in your home.’’
OK, let’s say you want a Dan Carter NFT, to screen on your digital TV, in a digital photo frame, or simply to tuck away in the hope it will one day be worth zillions. Now what? Carter is still working on that. His NFT will come with special add-ons only the owner can unlock.
‘‘It’s going be a beautiful piece of art. It could be a celebration of my career. A beautifully shot image of me playing or kicking, maybe a stunning silhouette, I’m not sure yet – we’re working through that. I’m really grateful to have so many fans and supporters that followed me through my career. So having an NFT offering is another opportunity to bring fans closer to me.’’
His NFT will come with a smart contract, stored on the blockchain.
‘‘Potentially, an owner of my NFT could have the opportunity to have a kicking session with me once a year for a number of years, or join me at an All Blacks test. The beauty is you can add these rights and privileges into the smart contract. They will have a true sense of owning this digital masterpiece, which can be traded on the Glorious marketplace.’’
And that’s the difference, Carter says: You can take a photo of the Mona Lisa and screen it the same way as an NFT, but there is no ownership involved.
‘‘A lot of people will say ‘well, why can’t I just screenshot it?’ Well, you can but you don’t own it. It’s not available to on-sell. You also don’t have the rights and privileges attached on the smart contract. It hasn’t got any value. You’ve only taken a photo of the Mona Lisa.
‘‘The thing that I love about NFTs is that they guarantee provenance, place of origin, the record of ownership, the proof of authentication, and you have a true sense of ownership.’’
And then there are the advantages of the ‘‘take out the middleman’’ blockchain technology, which Carter says has revolutionised the internet, which has been dominated by mediated content through third parties (think Facebook).
Users are in a sense renting space on platforms such as Facebook, rather than owning it. And like renting a house, if the platform owner wants to biff you out, they can, and you lose all your content.
It’s oversimplifying, but blockchain is akin to owning the house, so you can do what you wish with the content.
Carter cites his own boys as an example of how blockchain could change things. They are into gaming – global platforms Roblox and Minecraft – and they buy weapons, avatars and other items. But though they have paid to increase their chances of winning (there’s that competitive Dan-Honor streak again) they own nothing, so they can’t on-sell their purchases.
‘‘Because my children are living in that digital world, I think we are really early in this space. There are so many opportunities with ‘play to earn’ gaming, with avatars. There are so many ways to build digital communities, with your fans and collectors.’’
Carter points out there was frustration in the late 1990s with the internet. ‘‘Everyone was saying you can send emails, but that’s about the extent of it.
Look at it now.
We couldn’t live without the internet. So we’re still at those early stages of
Web3 and the ability to function on blockchain technology.’’
Rugby players have a short timeframe in which to earn, and a long, long time to live once age or injuries curtail their career. That’s why Carter has been planning for life after rugby since he was 25.
He knew it was coming, and a nine-tofive job did not spin his wheels: ‘‘I’d regret it because it’s not a passion.’’
So he built a diverse investment portfolio. ‘‘I have financial advisers around me and I have had various portfolios set for the last 15 years to give my family and I financial security.’’
Glorious is another part of his plan to build a passive income plan. He also appears in Chemist Warehouse ads, and owns a share of Parnell department store Faradays, which sells luxury fashion.
Not that his business ventures have always gone smoothly: In 2010 the global recession claimed his Gas fashion stores in Wellington, Christchurch, Auckland and Mt Maunganui, and the company went into liquidation. Gas sold upmarket Italian clothing, including jeans that went for between $225 and $280 a pair.
Neither do sports careers always end smoothly. The transition from black jersey hero to civvies is a tough one, studies have shown time and again.
‘‘It is probably one of the biggest challenges of being an athlete – being a rugby player – you’re talking about the word retirement in your 30s, much earlier if there’s an injury,’’ Carter says.
‘‘Psychologically that can be really challenging because you shouldn’t be talking about that word retirement until you’re 65. You really need to focus on your mindset around that word and what it means to you at that point of your lifespan. It doesn’t mean I’m no longer of value to society because I retired as a rugby player, and that’s all I know.
‘‘I was a rugby player, but being a rugby player is not going to define me as the person that I am. I need to find what’s going to challenge me, what is my passion, what is going to make me happy. I have my focus, my family, my close friends, they know who I am and the struggles that I have, the things that give me a real sense of satisfaction and enjoyment.
‘‘It’s important to make sure you surround yourself with good people and people that you trust. It is time to really focus on what’s going to get me out of bed for the next 10 to 20 years.’’
Carter says he was lucky. What he learnt as part of the Crusader and All Black cultures prepared him for life after rugby as he watched Beauden Barrett and Richie Mo’unga carrying on in the treasured No 10.
‘‘You’re in the newspapers and you’re on the TV every week, but if (no longer being there is) going to frustrate or annoy you you’ve got to look inside yourself, and ask yourself why are you doing it,’’ Carter says.
‘‘So it doesn’t bother me. I just get inspired by seeing the next generation come up.
‘‘It was never my jersey. I was just the custodian of that No 10.
‘‘My challenge while I was there – it was never going to last forever – was to leave it in a better place, and call on the guys who come after me to do the same.’’
Casting an eye over Carter’s career, his test-scoring record, his two World Cups as part of the All Blacks, it’s easy to think rugby went oh so smoothly for him.
It did not. Mere statistics obscure the misery of the 2007 World Cup, when the All Blacks were bundled out early by France. Or the heartbreak of 2011, when a groin injury ended his bid for World Cup redemption.
Injury in 2011 ‘‘completely broke my heart’’, Carter says, yet it caused him to reflect.
‘‘What was my purpose? It was not to be an All Black. It was to try to aspire to be an All Black great.
‘‘And what does an All Black great do when he has a serious injury? He works harder. He helps the team, he rehabs better than anyone else.
‘‘He resets his goals to try and go another four years to another World Cup, and, you know, obviously 2015 worked out pretty well for me as well.’’
Carter was man of the match in the 2015 final at Twickenham, kicking four penalties, converting two tries and landing a superb dropped goal.
Soon after he was named IRB player of the year for the third time.
Twickenham was the last of his 112
All Black tests, the end of international play for the man who ‘‘wanted to be the greatest rugby player he could be’’.
And now he has life after rugby – a life with new ambitions, new goals. A life with a family, and Glorious.
‘‘It is still so new and the adoption curve is still early,’’ he says, adding that a real mission for them is ‘‘making sure we’re always putting the artists and creators first. The fact that they are getting royalties in perpetuity is something they haven’t experienced before.’’