Military rule and adventure: ABs’ ground-breaking tour of 1976
Flopping about at the back of an All Blacks ruck in the 1970s was a task recommended only to men in possession of a reckless streak, or a desire to feel instant pain.
That this revelation hadn’t reached Argentina in 1976 was of no great surprise.
Given the Argentinians had no prior knowledge of what to expect from the touring All Blacks, it’s understandable that they would unwittingly play with fire by attempting to slow ruck ball; so what followed was predictable, and for the locals, probably quite shocking.
‘‘We found out that the crowds could get incredibly excited,’’ recollected wing/centre Stu Wilson, who embarked on his first All Blacks tour when selected to go to South America.
‘‘And they got even more frenzied when the All Blacks hit the first ruck. There might have been a few Argentinian boys out the back who were cheating like hell.
‘‘And therefore they never cheated again. In those days it was like a combine harvester just walking through, and spinning them out the end.
‘‘That got the crowd into a huge frenzy. They were very vocal, whereas New Zealanders tended to sit and clap.’’
It was to be no ordinary tour. Seven months prior to the All Blacks’ arrival, a right-wing coup d’etat had resulted in President Isabel Peron being unseated from power; a military junta, which was to take the name National Reorganization Process, was to remain in charge of the country until December, 1983.
It was to be dark period in Argentina’s history, with around 30,000 people who opposed the regime being killed or going missing, never to be seen again, in what was called the ‘‘Dirty War’’.
For a group of Kiwis, who had remained at home while a more experienced collection of All Blacks suffered a 3-1 series loss in South Africa, it was a step into the known.
Certainly, it was much different to tranquil New Zealand.
The All Blacks began their tour with a 64-3 win over Uruguay in Montevideo before flying south to Buenos Aires, the capital city of Argentina.
Unbeaten run
Captained by flanker Graham Mourie and coached by Jack Gleeson, the All Blacks swept through the country unbeaten, winning all eight games.
The two unofficial tests against the Pumas – the International Rugby Board (now World Rugby) didn’t officially endorse them as internationals – were played in Buenos Aires.
If the whiff of liniment, or the sight of their opponents being saluted by their passionate supporters didn’t get the All Blacks players’ blood pumping, maybe the armed soldiers sitting in gun nests near the sidelines did the trick.
‘‘From a New Zealand perspective you were just not used to it,’’ Mourie recollected.
‘‘In the test match at the stadium in Argentina there was a strong military presence, and in each of the corners there was a little group of soldiers inside their sandbags with their guns just sitting there observing what was going on with the crowd. It was definitely a bit different.’’
For the record, the All Blacks won the first ‘‘test’’ 21-9, followed by a 26-6 triumph in the second.
It was a happy touring party, said Mourie. With Gleeson encouraging the team to administer a game plan that required them to play with continuity and speed, the Kiwis enjoyed going about their work on the field.
They also had their share of fun off it, with young men able to hang loose in a time when there was no social media to reveal any mischief.
Formal attire
On one occasion the squad was invited to a banquet involving several hundred people, with team manager Ron Don, Mourie and Gleeson invited to sit among the local dignitaries, who were dressed in tuxedos and long ball gowns, as a five course meal and fine wines were served.
‘‘We just went in with our All Blacks blazers cut out of the back of a sack, really,’’ Wilson said.
‘‘Some of the boys couldn’t do a tie up, but that was all right. It basically opened up the eyes of most of us. There was some serious wealth there. And probably not of middle and lower . . . We saw the good side.’’
There were just two management staff in Gleeson and Don, with doctors and physiotherapists supplied by the local clubs a few days prior to each game.
Lock John Callesen was in strife early in the tour, breaking his thumb in a tackle in Montevideo. Suspecting he had broken the digit, he didn’t ask for an X-ray because he knew he would be sent home if the damage was confirmed.
Instead, he strapped an aluminium strip to the thumb and asked team-mate and dentist Paul Sapsford to inject him with painkillers before games.
‘‘It was sore, especially when you were training with a broken thumb,’’ Callesen told Stuff in 2013. ‘‘I knew it was buggered. I’ve got a permanent memory from that tour because it never healed properly.’’
The squad, who were based in Buenos Aires and travelled to games outside the city by train or plane, was allocated a security detail to ensure their safety.
The All Blacks knew they were largely insulated from what was really happening in the country, although Wilson got an insight into the military’s brutal methods when he made the error of lagging behind the squad during a run in the capital city.
‘‘Then there was some kerfuffle, and a car was pulled over by some military people and cops, and they got out with guns. I just hid halfway up a tree. They took that person out of that car, in a pretty mean way, and put him in a van and drove away.’’
There were moments of paranoia. A player was presented with a cake by some locals the team had befriended, resulting in their suspicious security staff questioning whether they should chop it up to investigate whether a nasty surprise was buried inside the sponge and icing.
Even the mundane tasks, such as travelling to games, became a talking point. Before one match the squad flew in one of the military’s Hercules planes, with the players strapped into the webbing at the back; prior to another game, says Wilson, they were perplexed to board a train that travelled for an hour before stopping and reversing for three hours in the direction from which they had come: ‘‘We couldn’t quite work that out, that was a bit strange.
‘‘It was all a bit of an adventure, it was a pioneer tour.’’
Pumas competitive
Rugby was gaining popularity in Argentina in the 1970s, and with first five-eighth Hugo Porta operating behind a forward pack that loved to be combative the Pumas were proving competitive on the world stage.
‘‘Argentina were a good side, up to good international standard and earlier they had got to within three points against Wales,’’ Mourie said. ‘‘The team we had was a good one, and in my view it was as good as the team that was in South Africa.’’
Porta was highly regarded by the All Blacks, who respected his ability on the field and manners off it.
With limited resources compared to what professional teams have access to nowadays, the New Zealanders made do with what they had. Wilson, who played at centre in the second test in Buenos Aires, got some assistance from his teammates when they discovered he was going to be marking Alejandro ‘‘Chiquito’’ Travaglini.
‘‘The boys found some foam rubber and made me some shoulder pads, strapped them down with some band aids and that was it.
‘‘I was marking a man who was bigger than Andy Haden for God’s sakes. He was huge, so when he got the ball I just fell in front of him.’’
The adventure didn’t end when they began their return to the South Pacific. A stopover in Tahiti coincided with their departure being delayed for several days, so a game was organised against the locals.
‘‘Because it was the amateur era we couldn’t take any money, so I think we got about two dozen bottles of champagne for the aftermatch,’’ Mourie recalled.
By the time rugby turned professional in late 1995, Mourie and Wilson had long retired.
During a recent reunion of All Blacks who played in the successful 1978 grand slam tour of Britain and Ireland, the question of whether they wished they played for pay was raised. Even though Mourie was self-employed as a dairy farmer in Taranaki, and had to cover his own costs when he was touring, he had no regrets.
‘‘I think we probably got as much pleasure, or more, than the current players because we didn’t have the worries of our next contract. We just had to get on with what we were doing.’’
Wilson agreed: ‘‘I was happy with my lot, and I think we all were. We got about $5 a day allowance that was set by the International Rugby Board. That’s what we got and were able to do things the modern professional player wouldn’t even be able to consider doing. You were taught all the old things, you didn’t own the jersey and it was going to be picked up by someone other guy when you were either injured, retired or sacked.’’
‘‘. . . in each of the corners there was a little group of soldiers inside their sandbags with their guns just sitting there observing what was going on with the crowd.’’ Graham Mourie