He strode across the churned-up ground of Rugby Park with a walk of warning and half a smile. He had the gait of a prize fighter entering the ring, though this man's biggest fights have always been against himself.
He wore a Wellington jacket and freshly pressed slacks and marched headlong into the wind - an Antarctic harbinger that iced the puddles and promised imminent sleet and snow. I sought shelter behind the grandstand as my face went numb. Richard Watt just wandered around, impervious to the cold.
It's no surprise, really. He spent a long time out in it, back when the booze had him in its grip. Usually he would have punched his way out of trouble, but some demons don't take a dive in the fifth. When he couldn't punch his way out of trouble he punched his way into it. That was a long time ago now. He turned 50 at Easter. He looks bloody good for 50.
He somehow manages to walk tall and stoop at the same time, his big shoulders bearing the weight of a head like a packing case. He bends down to talk, looks you in the eye when he shakes your hand and carries with him a confidence that men like me who can't fight worth a damn always see in men who no longer give a damn about fighting.
He wants his team to fight, though, not in the way he used to, but for each other, and for the province he loves, and for the game that as a player he probably threw away.
He was a rogue of a player, the king of the goons. If he were any good on ice-skates he would have been perfect in the NHL. He spent his career throwing haymakers. Not that they complained in the breeze block changing sheds under the Poneke clubrooms. He was just Watty to them, and that's just what Watty did. Poneke's most famous rugby product was the late, great Tom Ellison. Watt once quipped that he only realised Ellison was a lawyer when he saw a photo of him in the High Court.
He's been in this coaching racket for six seasons now. And he's been doing a job with the Wellington defence this year. Heading into the Southland game they had conceded just one try in three matches, and handed Harbour a doughnut the week before. Chris Boyd and John Plumtree had joked with him before the match on Saturday that if his side kept another clean sheet he might well have to look after defence for the Hurricanes.
His team conceded three points against the Stags. Guess he'll have to reapply.
Then again, that was the first three points they had conceded since round one. No other team has kept a side scoreless this season. Wellington have done it twice. The solitary penalty conceded against the Stags was the first time they had been scored against in a first half this season. It's little wonder, when you consider they have the best tackle percentage in the competition. Yes, you heard correctly. Wellington have the best tackle percentage.
Defence, they say, is about attitude. And Wellington's attitude couldn't be better summed up than by the passion of the man charged with making sure their defence is on song. Richard Watt knows a thing or two about tackling a challenge.
After the game I sat in the hotel lobby with former Otago and Highlanders captain Kelvin Middleton and Canterbury under-19 coach Pete Bowden. Watt strode down the stairs with an easy bounce and half a smile. He had the gait of a prize fighter who'd just won another bout.
"Have you met Pete?" I asked.
"Actually, I've met Richard," Pete interjected. "In my first game of senior club rugby in Wellington."
Watty bent down to shake his hand, and looked him in the eye.
"You might not remember," Pete continued, "but you knocked me out at the first lineout."
"Well," replied Watt, chuckling. "It's good to meet you properly then."
Then off he marched, and back up the stairs. Richard Watt, impervious to the cold, basking in the warmth of another win.