Like many Kiwis, I have huge admiration for Richie McCaw. He is an amazing and enduring rugby player and an obvious leader of men. But I particularly admire his reluctance to readily accept Prime Minister John Key's offer of a knighthood. He may well accept at some stage and I will still admire him. But in the meantime I wonder at his motives for refusing such an easily offered prize. I suspect it has a bit to do with his origins in heartland South Island, New Zealand.
In the early 1990s, I had a brief stint teaching at Kurow Area School in the Waitaki Valley, inland from Oamaru. It left a lasting mark on me. I still have good friends from this period. They tease me that Richie was in my soccer team at the area school winter tournament held in Roxburgh that year.
It was the zenith of my coaching career. The wind was howling down the field. We had the wind behind us in the first half. I told the team to fire at goal from anywhere. We were 3-nil up at half time. At the break I told them that should they get the ball, they should fire it into the creek beside the field. This would soak up time. It was preferable to battling the gale.
We won 3-1. It was the dubious highlight of my mediocre coaching career. I doubt Richie was actually in the team. But I still boast whenever he kicks the ball out, that I taught him that skill.
Kurow and the Hakataramea Valley, where the McCaw family farmed, is heartland New Zealand. Heartland New Zealand is about reputation rather than adulation. Reputation is hugely important because these communities are small and trust and reliability are more important than perceived status.
I believe Richie is a product of this time and place. People are real in this part of the world. It is not about fame or wealth or perceived status. It is about how you treat your friends, neighbours and family.
It is the idealised New Zealand image of old. It is certainly not perfect but there is a sense of connectedness that is lost in larger metropolitan areas where the sense of community is often weaker. Back then if you locked your car in Kurow this was perceived as odd behaviour.
I spent many years in Dunedin. I was saddened that Dunedin did not get a World Cup parade. This city, and the Otago/Southland region, has contributed disproportionately to All Black success over many decades. Dunedin and Otago's rescue of the Otago RFU when in dire financial straits recently is a further indication of their support for the game. Such a snub was a slap in the face to those living below the Waitaki.
I have always loved the South Island for these reasons. There is a sense of community and interconnectedness that larger centres lack. This is the product of smaller communities where people tend to know each other and the population is less transient. Smallness can be claustrophobic but it also encourages stronger community ties. Interactions are based on a greater sense of reciprocity and trust. Treating others poorly is likely to rebound quickly.
In the 9th century, the great Frankish leader Charlemagne was crowned Holy Roman Emperor by the Pope. It is believed he resented the title because it implied the Pope had authority over him. This has always been my concern about conferred titles such as knighthoods and dames. Such titles infer that those who are conferring them have superior moral authority and status to determine the recipients. Real winners are usually their own harshest critics. They don't need the conferred honours bestowed by others. They know when they have excelled, or failed.
Richie McCaw is as deserving of a knighthood as many who have already received such decreed honours. Having experienced the debacles of the 2003 and 2007 All Black campaign, he is likely very aware of the fickleness of public adulation and conferred honours. He is from a great part of our country where reputation is far more important than wealth or status or conferred honours. He is from the idealised Kiwi heartland that produces such real people, and winners.
Peter Lyons teaches economics at St Peter's College in Epsom.