In a rare interview, former All Black coach, John Hart talks to Herald Correspondent CHRIS HEWETT about his life then and now
As sporting departures go, it was not quite in the Kevin Keegan league: John Hart was too organised a coach, too analytical, too far-sighted, too damned smart ever to
have flounced out of international sport with a tear in his eye and a red mist occupying the space where his brain should have been.
All the same, it was a farewell of unusual abruptness. One press conference in Wales on the eve of last year's World Cup final, another at Auckland Airport, a single half-hour television interview and then nothing.
Finito. Los endos. A one-way bus ride up Sayonara St.
Hart has no intention of disembarking, either, despite his welcome presence in these islands as co-coach with Bob Dwyer of the Barbarians, who lost to South Africa in Cardiff earlier this week.
He has his business management consultancy to think about, not to mention a couple of lucrative directorships and some serious golf.
And then there are the racehorses, one of which won its second Miracle Mile in Sydney last month and has presented Hart and his co-owners with a seven-figure return on their investment.
After 20 years, one of the most successful coaches in rugby history is winding down for good.
"I'm not driven by rugby any more - at least, not by the thought of hands-on coaching," he said, 13 months after surrendering the stewardship of the All Blacks following the excruciatingly public collapse of their World Cup campaign.
"I still love the game, of course, and I'd like to think I'll stay involved in some way, maybe in an administrative role.
"But that's a long way down the road, I think. All I can say right now is that my coaching career at the top level is pretty much over."
It is an extraordinary renunciation, for this acknowledged master of the art and science of coaching is still in his prime at 55.
Few rugby strategists of comparable stature have given away the game so prematurely: Hart's All Black predecessors, Alex Wyllie and Laurie Mains, are still in business, as are contemporaries such as Dwyer and Jack Rowell.
It is not as if we are discussing any old test coach here: Hart was the classiest of class acts. During his two decades at the top end of New Zealand rugby, initially with Auckland and then with the silver fern fraternity, Hart maintained a win rate of 86 per cent.
There are one or two sides around the world who could use that sort of track record. There were no pressing family reasons behind his decision.
"I always prided myself on keeping that part of my life in good order," he said. "When I hear people in business talk about spending time with the family when they've retired, I shake my head. What's the point of trying to strike the right balance at 60, when your family have gone their separate ways?
"Time is obviously at a premium when you're involved with something as big as the All Blacks, but I was determined to get the quality right, even if I couldn't offer the quantity.
"We're a close family. We had planned a holiday in Hawaii after the World Cup, and I figured I would join my wife and children there after I had faced the music back in Auckland.
"But they wanted to be in Auckland with me, so that's what happened. We faced it together."
So why the great repudiation? Look no further than the poisonous aftermath of the second World Cup semifinal at Twickenham, when Hart's young, under-cooked side capitulated in the face of an explosion of French joie de vivre.
"The defeat hurt then, it hurts now and it will always hurt me," he agreed. "But the most difficult thing to handle was the reaction back home, certainly in some sections of the media. The criticism got very, very personal, and I had a tough few months coming to terms with the ferocity of it.
"There was huge disappointment in New Zealand, and I understood and shared in that disappointment. What I struggled to understand was the anger, much of which stemmed from some pretty shallow analysis of the tournament.
"It seemed to me at the time that the expectations of an All Black victory were too great. There was no real balance between the operational arm of the squad and the marketing people, who built us up out of all proportion.
"We'd had a tough year in 1998 - we had lost the Fitzpatricks, the Bunces, the Zinzans - and although we rebuilt fairly successfully in '99, I knew we were at risk.
"When we played really well to beat England in the pool stage - and I have to put that performance right up there in terms of satisfaction - people got completely carried away.
"We had young guys in key positions and when they failed to cope with the French on one of their great days, there was this pervasive sense of anti-climax.
"A lot of people in New Zealand were deeply saddened by the treatment we received, but on the bright side, I think the country has learned a valuable lesson. There has certainly been a different attitude towards All Black defeat this year."
On a happier note, from the red rose perspective at least, Hart detects a different attitude in English rugby, too, a hardened, ruthless, winner's streak, as revealed in the recent victories over Australia and South Africa.
"I'd have to put England up there with the very best sides in the world," he said. "They are strong at forward, powerful and organised, and capable of dominating a match. And they have a quality kicker at outside-half."
But like any good New Zealander, Hart stops short of a full endorsement.
"On heavy pitches they will take an awful lot of beating, but on good surfaces ... well, I suspect they need to develop their back play just a little."
Hart recognises a decent backline when he stumbles across it. The Baabaas' unit was almost indecently decent: his Christian Cullen at fullback, Carlos Spencer at pivot, plus sundry world-class Wallabies and a budding Irish midfield genius in Brian O'Driscoll.
Rugby needs the nourishment afforded by oval-ball thinkers as acute and accomplished as John Hart. Global planning, player burnout, unbreachable defences, conflicting refereeing interpretations, the lingering death of "real" touring: these are big issues way beyond the scope of the current governors of the international game.
Hart does not have all the answers, but he at least understands the questions. For that reason alone, rugby union needs to return him to the fold with a twitch upon the thread.
In a rare interview, former All Black coach, John Hart talks to Herald Correspondent CHRIS HEWETT about his life then and now
As sporting departures go, it was not quite in the Kevin Keegan league: John Hart was too organised a coach, too analytical, too far-sighted, too damned smart ever to
AdvertisementAdvertise with NZME.