Alan Duff: Colin Meads wasn't 'one of us' - he was something more

Respect, Sir Colin. You did a bloody good job, mate. Photo / File

Nothing this columnist can say about Colin Meads the rugby player that hasn't been said a thousand times x 10. Nor of his famous beer drinking feats or his public speaking brilliance stepping out from behind the droll basic farmer persona.

Can only say that Pinetree was the perfect personification, the ideal version if you will, of the hard farmer bloke who stood no nonsense on the field, lifted himself in every match to an extraordinary level of skill, possessed of a relentless, ruthless desire to win. Yet talked like a true-blue Kiwi.

But I suspect behind the image we - and subsequently he - created stood quite a sensitive bloke. Certainly a good bugger, as he might have put it. The good folk of Te Kuiti describe him as a man of the people.

Sure. But his deeds on and off the rugby field were not those of a man of the people. Another All Black almost Tree's equal is also a man of the people. I'm talking Zinzan Brooke. A more amiable, approachable bloke you could not wish for.

But, like Colin, Zinny is as far from one of us as India is from producing a Rugby World Cup winner. It's just the Kiwi way to ordinary-ise our heroes; to say "oh, but he's so humble". Ask any player who opposed either of these extraordinary athletes with wills and bodies and fists of steel if they'd just played against a humble bloke.

Take a look at the forward pack that played in the Sydney test to see but one brown man in Cody Taylor. The rest are white boys from farms. The majority of backs are fast brown boys born with natural skills and hand-eye co-ordination. Pinetree possessed the qualities of both a forward and a back - let's say a bruising second-five. He could have been a loosie All Black. Like Zinny was capable of playing fullback and wore numbers 6, 7 and 8 in the black jersey.

I don't think we really mean it when we say a great rugby player is a man of the people. We're just saying it; don't even want it to be true. Because an ordinary man stays that, even if he's wearing black with the silver fern.

See the videos of people who knew him: their open emotions - tears, choked words - to know this was no man of the people. Even if they all say, "He was one of us". I disagree. He was a representation of both ideal rugby player and ideal down-to-earth Kiwi bloke who was good to everyone he encountered except if you were playing against him.

In which case he smashed you, broke your nose, flailed your back in a ruck, broke you in half in a tackle then ripped the ball from you to finish the indignity. "One of us"? Come on. One of my business friends applied Colin Meads' personal philosophy to himself and his business: Never let the opposition know you're hurting.

Maori in Te Kuiti had Tree brought on to a marae so they could honour him. He was manager of a Maori All Black tour party and his former charges say he was extremely demanding on how they played as well as behaved off the field. "He had very high standards," former number 8 Aaron Pene said.

I think he gave rugby-mad Kiwis permission to be something a little better than genes and application had made them. And because he talked like us we kept the illusion alive. Being a nation that for some reason quickly forgets its rugby heroes, elevating Pinetree like we did is almost unprecedented.

Ernest Rutherford was one of the smartest people in human history, maybe in the top 100. Ernest who? Ask an ex-All Black to find out how fleeting is fame, how fickle adulation. Is there a statue of Peter Snell or John Walker in any town square? Don't think so. There should be.

Sean Fitzpatrick? Surely the All Black legend is remembered? He is but the collective memory is fading. Buck Shelford is an exception to the rule. I think because his hard-nosed, ruthless style of game was similar to Colin's. He also put the warrior zest into the All Black haka which made it into an international brand.

That whumping sound we heard is the Great Tree hitting the earth in its last play of his final game. Soon young shoots will break ground; over the next 20-40 years one of those will become part of New Zealand folklore. He'll have a name like Tama Latu-Barker, of three bloodlines with one united nation behind him.

Might be a bit of Meads blood there too. Respect, Sir Colin. You did a bloody good job, mate.