Eva Bradley: Just what makes a hero?

Heroes tend to be the sort who combine hard work and raw talent to blaze a trail for others to follow, like Jonah Lomu. Photo / File

A good hero is hard to find, so despite it being an almost unbearably sad week in the West and right here Down Under, the silver lining is the chance to see and reflect on humanity at its best, even when others have just demonstrated it at its worst.

Heroes tend to be made, not born, and fall into two distinct and very different categories: accidental ones such as those who risked and even gave their lives to save others in Paris, and the sort who combine hard work and raw talent to blaze a trail for others to follow, like Jonah Lomu. There's no way to compare them and certainly no point, but it has to be said that, at a time in history when the actions of a few acting in the name of their own version of God makes you question if one even exists, it helps to know there are people to have faith in.

Out of the rubble of any tragedy or disaster will always come stories of sacrifice and courage.

There was the police dog, Diesel, killed by an explosion after being sent to sniff for booby traps in the wake of the attacks. On the night of the attacks, a young man pulled a pregnant woman to safety from the second storey of the Bataclan Theatre.

To me, the noblest story of heroism was that of Ludovic Boumbas, who threw himself between his friend and a deadly bullet at the La Belle Equipe cafe, and paid for that split-second decision with his life.

It is unlikely these people (nor Diesel) would have considered themselves the heroic sort. The reality is that none of us knows if we have what it takes to put our lives on the line to help somebody else until the situation arrives.

And what if you do unwittingly earn the moniker? What happens then? Do heroes ever look back with the benefit of hindsight and rational reflection and wish they had run the other way?

Do those who die peer down from their lofty perch and wish they'd saved themselves instead? Being called a hero in a disaster is a bit like winning the prize for "most improved" or "Miss Personality". It's a consolation prize to make us feel better for doing something that almost by definition came at huge personal risk. But while I wouldn't want to be a hero in Paris right now, I wouldn't mind being the sporting kind. Although it was a bit of a "Princess Di/JFK" moment when I first heard Jonah Lomu had died so unexpectedly, it has been wonderful seeing his life's achievements remembered and celebrated.

Surely the only thing that could knock a story like that down the newsfeed is one about a current hero instead of a past one. Richie McCaw's retirement has been another chance to reflect on what greatness means. But heroism is like asparagus - absolutely fabulous at the time, but gone far too quickly and replaced by ho-hum things like day jobs and broccoli.

Thankfully, Richie is off to continue his role as a young boy's biggest hero by trading the title of "rugby player" for "helicopter pilot".

I'm not sure retraining as an accountant (or even a coach) would have had quite the same heroic appeal.