1928, 1949, and 1960. Agreeing to dump Māori from South African tours
By 1960 Kiwis were well aware of apartheid. An anti-tour petition with 200,000signatures was presented to Parliament. Demonstrators tried to dash onto the runway at Whenuapai as the plane with the All Blacks was taking off. New Zealand Rugby Union officials were aware of the draconian racial laws in South Africa. They still bowed to the demands of white South African rugby rulers.
But in some ways, the exclusion of Māori players from the ‘49 tour feels even more insulting. The Māori Battalion had just lost 649 men in World War II. Decades later the captain of the ‘49 All Blacks, Fred Allen, himself an officer in the NZ Army in the Solomon Islands and the Middle East, told me he regretted the fact the NZRU had allowed South Africa to dictate the terms of the tour. “When they told us we couldn’t have Māori in the team, we should have told them to get stuffed, and stayed home.”
Outspoken, fierce, and by the time he became an unbeaten All Black coach in 14 tests from 1966 to 1968, Fred Allen was also uncompromising.
Before the magnificent 1967 tour of Britain and France the NZRU chairman, Tom Morrison wanted Allen to leave Colin Meads, Ken Gray, and Bruce McLeod out of the squad. There were concerns from Britain, said Morrison, that their rugged play would besmirch the game’s image.
Allen’s reaction? “I told him to bugger off.”
The static from the NZRU executive committee, all based in Wellington, became so insistent, that at the start of 1969 Allen resigned.
It was years before I plucked up the courage to ask him why. When I did he was searingly honest.
“I quit so the bastards wouldn’t have the satisfaction of sacking me.”
His position was filled by former All Black prop Ivan Vodanovich. In 1970 under Vodanovich, a series was lost in South Africa, and in 1971 the Lions won their first series against us.
Vodanovich had never been the head coach of a provincial team. He was, however, a long term partner in a menswear store with Allen’s nemesis, Tom Morrison.
1981. The Springbok tour of New Zealand
By ‘81 the Springboks were the untouchables for most of world rugby. Teams would tour South Africa, but after sometimes violent demonstrations, Australia hadn’t hosted them since 1971, and the Boks had last toured Britain in 1969-70.
But the NZRU was determined to have the Boks here, and so the most disruptive sports tour in the history of NZ went ahead.
The violence rose to such a pitch that 20 years later Chief Inspector Graham Perry, in command of the police operation at the third test at Eden Park, would say: “If the tour had gone on for another couple of weeks, bloodshed would have been involved. Firearms would have come into it”.
A great All Black of the 1960s, Kel Tremain, summed it up the night before the third test, when we’d both spoken at the Eden Rugby Club.
“I don’t think there was anybody in NZ who was happier to see the Boks arrive here than me,” he said.
“Now I don’t think there’s anybody who’ll be happier to see them go. They buggered up our country, and you know the worst thing? I don’t think they really cared.”
Protesters and police clash outside Eden Park before the third and final rugby test match between New Zealand and South Africa. Photo / Michael Tubberty
1991. Not remotely together in harmony
John Hart and Alex Wyllie were both hugely successful provincial coaches. When Hart ran Auckland, and Wyllie had Canterbury, they were also arch-rivals.
There was zero personal rapport, and in fact, what had begun as an intense competition when Hart coached Auckland and Wyllie Canterbury, had developed into obvious antagonism.
But in 1991 the NZRU made the stunning decision to appoint them co-coaches of the World Cup All Blacks.
As the average pet rock could have predicted, it didn’t work. The All Blacks lost their semi-final, 16-6, to Australia.
Meanwhile, on the bright side of the road
Two strokes of brilliance last century also deserve to be recalled.
One was the tireless work in 1984 by Whakatane’s Dick Littlejohn, and Aussie Sir Nicholas Shehadie, who battled snow storms, and boardroom derision on a sleep deprived trip to Europe.
They persuaded dubious Irish, Welsh, Scottish, and English officials that a Rugby World Cup was a damned good idea. The 1987 Cup united NZ rugby and the country.
Another great effort was the frantic work done in August, 1995, when the NZRU’s Jock Hobbs raced up and down the country, and staved off an All Black poaching attempt by Aussie media baron Kerry Packer. Packer had a small group of senior All Blacks pushing for him. All had been promised a bonus of $US1 million for three years if they could get their team-mates to join them.
Hobbs’s mantra to the players he spoke to up and down the country was: “The ding (money) is on the table”. His contracts were guaranteed. The Packer cash might be illusory. Eventually the Packer deals folded, and NZ rugby stayed in Kiwi hands.
Phil Gifford has twice been judged New Zealand sportswriter of the year, has won nine New Zealand and two Australasian radio awards, and been judged New Zealand Sports Columnist of the year three times. In 2010 he was honoured with the SPARC lifetime achievement award for services to sports journalism.
