Herald on Sunday editorial: Jerry Collins - the man, the legend

Jerry Collins never let go of his love of the game. Photo / Getty Images

Opinion

Jerry Collins' 48 tests for the All Blacks say everything about his ability as a rugby player, one of the most feared of the modern era. But they say nothing about why his death in a car accident in the south of France has affected so many people so deeply here and overseas.

That level of emotion is accorded only those whose character and contribution transcend their impact on the sporting field. Amid the trappings and conformity of professional rugby, Jerry Collins stood out with his unique identity, his humility and his determination to never lose sight of his place and presence in the community.

Other All Blacks may have considered they had left well behind the place they grew up and the club that gave them their start in rugby. Not Jerry Collins. Whenever he returned to Porirua, he played for the Norths club at every opportunity.

Not for no reason did he become one of his hometown's most favoured sons. As much will be re-emphasised on Wednesday when he is farewelled at a public funeral service there.

Other All Blacks may have become jaded with rugby, such is the amount they play these days. Not Jerry Collins. He never let go of his love of the game, the same love that draws the country's youngsters to soggy fields every wintry Saturday morning. Never was this more evident than when, while visiting family in north Devon in 2007, he asked for a game with the Barnstaple seconds. The All Blacks had just suffered their worst World Cup experience and most of those involved would have been thinking of anything but rugby.

Jerry Collins had his demons. In the penultimate phase of his life, he chose to get away from the limelight in a small town in prairie Canada. There he was able to find peace, a partner in Alana Madill and a new life as a family man with baby daughter Ayla. After two years, whether through the need to provide for them or the love of rugby, or both, he chose to play half a season at Narbonne, a famous French club that had fallen on hard times. It was to be his last stop.

In his short time in France, he created no less an impression than elsewhere. That is apparent from the 1500 people who attended a silent march through the town centre. Turnouts such as that do not occur for rugby mercenaries who happily pick up their pay cheque while making no attempt to engage with the club or the local community. Or who see star billing and humility as antithetical.

That was not Jerry Collins. He was always his own man, and at the age of 34, he had found fulfilment. Therein lies the tragedy and the final reason why his death has had such a profound impact.