Rugby - The Afterlife: Former All Blacks tell their stories

By Wynne Gray

Way back when there was a clear distinction between work and rugby, great names of the game spent their time working in an office or at a trade or out on the farm, all the while fitting in training and then playing at the weekends. That job/play distinction became hazier through the 80s and 90s until, in the wake of Jonah Lomu's stunning exploits at the 1995 World Cup and pressure from media barons, the International Rugby Board declared rugby professional.Some players just missed that pay dirt, others straddled the crossover years while the rest have never known any different and have always written fulltime sportsman' on their tax returns as rugby threaded its way through two decades of professionalism.For all of these players, though, there was a finishing line, a final test appearance. Some made that choice, others had it made for them. Some All Blacks had planned strongly for life after rugby, many were pursued hard by companies while others had difficulties settling into the next chapter of their lives.How did they go about that transition? Did they wait for guidance, have a lightbulb moment, take on some serious study or retraining or did they have the security of going back into a family business?How did a lifetime in rugby protect or prepare them for experiences after the game and how and why did they make the choices they did? Rugby — The Afterlife explores in great detail how a number of All Blacks coped with that transition and came out the other side.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Upstart Press
• Release date: Apr 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781988516325

Book preview

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Contents

About the Writer

Introduction

Mark Allen

Frank Bunce

Adrian Cashmore

Matthew Cooper

Christian Cullen

Craig Dowd

Sean Fitzpatrick

Norm Hewitt

Andrew Hore

Ian Jones

Michael Jones

Josh Kronfeld

Blair Larsen

Walter Little

Richard Loe

Justin Marshall

Keven Mealamu

Glen Osborne

Arran Pene

Taine Randell

Eric Rush

John Timu

Jeff Wilson

Afterword — By Dr John Mayhew

About the Writer

Wynne Gray began his journalism career on the Auckland Star and the 8 O’Clock before heading to travel and work in Europe and Australia. When he returned he became the senior rugby writer for the New Zealand Herald and attended more than 250 All Blacks tests and internationals around the globe, filing for the company newspapers and also online. He has written several books, been a guest panelist on Sky television, won a number of awards and is a life member of the New Zealand Sports Journalists Association.

Introduction

When the final whistle sounds and the payments cease, what plans do All Blacks have for their future?

How are they placed to deal with life outside the training fields, gyms, hotels and whiteboard sessions that have become their routine existence? What occupation do they turn to and what plans have they made for life after a professional rugby career?

Way back when, there was a clear definition between work and rugby. Great names in the game spent their time working in an office, at a trade or out on the farm mixed in with training then playing at the weekends. That distinction between work and play became blurred through the 1980s and 90s until, in the wake of Jonah Lomu’s stunning exploits at the 1995 World Cup and pressure from media barons, the International Rugby Board declared rugby professional.

Some players just missed that pay dirt, others straddled the crossover years, while the rest have never known any different and filled in ‘full-time sportsman’ on their tax returns as rugby picked its way through two decades of professionalism.

For all of them, there was a finishing line, a final test appearance. Some made that choice; others had it made for them. Some All Blacks planned for life after rugby; others were more laissez-faire about the next chapter of their lives.

How did they handle that transition? Did they wait for guidance, have a lightbulb moment, take on some serious study or retraining or did they have the security of going back into a family business? How did a life in rugby protect or prepare them for experiences after the game, and how and why did they make the choices they did?

Rugby — the Afterlife explores how 23 All Blacks coped with that transition and came out the other side. They represent a range of players, some legends of the game, some who racked up fewer tests, but all provide a candid portrait of life after rugby.

Mark Allen

‘Bull’ Allen represented New Zealand in 27 matches as prop between 1993 and 1997, including in eight tests, and scored one test try. He led the Hurricanes in the Super 12 in 1996 and played 110 games for Taranaki. He was also captain of the short-lived Central Vikings in 1997.

The end came in a scrum against the Brumbies in ’98 in a match I probably should never have started. My back was buggered.

I’d been fortunate to play in both the amateur and professional eras at my peak, and it looked like I was going to be a regular in the test team. Everything was lining up, but my marriage was just about stuffed because I was never home. Rugby took me away all the time and in those early days of professional rugby as captain of the Hurricanes, even if I wasn’t playing I was promoting the team. I enjoyed a good public profile but was letting myself down on the home front.

People were asking why I got so much publicity when I wasn’t even a regular test player. Laurie Mains preferred to pick Richard Loe because he was seen as a tighter player than me, while I preferred to run with the ball. It was a very interesting time. I had a good crack and was a reserve in about 30 tests. I played in 27 All Blacks games and eight tests, although I only started in one of those tests.

When I finished, I felt like I could have played a lot more games for the All Blacks and I felt I had failed. Blessed with success, but cursed with ambition.

I felt like I never quite achieved what I could have. I thought I could play more tests, but the question mark was always around my scrummaging. I was very visible doing other things around the field, but there was a perception I couldn’t scrum. I had a few challenges as I had started as a prop late in my rugby career at 19, although I felt by the time I finished I had sorted it out. It’s all about timing. Someone like Duane Monkley springs to mind; he could have been a wonderful All Black, but he didn’t get the nod in his era.

At the time, the All Blacks had captain Sean Fitzpatrick, Craig Dowd and Olo Brown as a collective and they were the best front row in the world. It was as simple as that and it didn’t make sense to break them up. I remember playing in the trials and getting to go alongside Fitzy and he was such a terrific scrummager.

There I was with my life at a crossroads with three young kids at that stage, a wife who’d had enough, and a decision had to be made. I thought if I continue playing — my back was giving me grief — did I want to be crippled by the time I got to 50?

I’ve reached that age now and feel I’m in great nick. I’ve looked after myself — so looking back, I made the right decision. I could have played a few more years if everything had hung together and played more tests, but at what expense? I have no regrets. I have five great kids and three grandkids, and a strong marriage. We’re all still together and doing well.

I’d trained as an auto electrician and loved working for my father in Taranaki, but there wasn’t really room in the business for me as well, so after rugby I started doing a lot of promotional stuff for companies, some commentating, TV work and presenting. We were living just out of Stratford and my wife Geralyn pointed out that while I’d given up rugby, I was still away doing promotional work, usually in Auckland and Wellington, and if that was going to continue, we needed to move.

Originally, we were going to shift into New Plymouth but decided if we were going to make a change we should go somewhere different, so we moved to the Bay of Plenty, to Omokoroa on the edge of Tauranga where Geralyn’s parents had a property. I was picking up sufficient small jobs to keep paying the bills, not enough to ever get rich, but I was happy to spend more time with the kids and think about some ideas.

I had a bit of money from professional rugby and Geralyn had studied for a law degree, then went back to run the family sheep and beef farm when her father got sick. She was keen to continue farming, but that wasn’t me, so we went into kiwifruit.

We lost heaps of money. We made a couple of bum calls and lost about a million bucks. At the same time, we were building a house in Bethlehem in Tauranga that was going to cost us $400,000 so I needed an income. The one good investment we had was in Omokoroa with Geralyn’s family.

We had put money in to help her parents build a house, and so they put us up when we needed them.

At one stage during the global financial crisis of 2007/2008, I was working in four different jobs — with night shifts and long hours, travelling to Auckland, and also sat my real estate licence, but I’m not a great man for answering phones at night. I worked for a travel company and then a media company in Auckland.

Geralyn finished her degree and worked part-time, so we could keep our kids at Bethlehem College. Education is important to us. We both have a strong faith, and when we were struggling, our faith and church family helped us get through it. My parents helped us keep our kids in the school they were used to, by paying fees, and my in-laws were great too with their support, so we were very fortunate.

It was hard to ask for help and your pride gets a hit and you feel a bit of a failure after being reasonably successful. Now I know I can speak to my kids about what life is like on both sides of the fence, and they see me getting up early, going out the door to exercise or to work every day and that’s a strong message about attitude and work ethic. Things like financial turmoil can blow you apart, but it drew us together and made us realise how lucky we were to have each other and our health. We all need to believe in something and our family has a strong faith in God. We got advice for our investment plans, but they still didn’t work out. Although there were a few tough years, Geralyn and I worked through it.

One day I was watching Luke, my oldest son, play rugby and I don’t know what it was, the Holy Spirit or a voice or whatever, but the thing that came to me was — would you be any happier now if you had all that other stuff? The simple answer was no. I realised I had been chasing things thinking that would make me more successful, but I had been chasing the wrong things. You don’t know you are doing it, but you are. I had a healthy marriage, healthy kids, I was still employable and fortunate I had a work ethic — and all that was worth a fortune.

At one point, I was working at night for a mate’s building company. I’d done promotions with Christian Cullen in a supermarket and there I was, in a hi-vis jacket and helmet putting up shelving in the same place . . . and no one cared. Mahe Drysdale came along and looked at me and said, ‘Is that you, Bull?’ He jokingly said, ‘Things must be tough, Bull,’ and I said, ‘Mahe, it’s kind of you to stop and talk to me because lots of others don’t bother.’ He replied, ‘Bull, I’ll talk to you, but I’ll have to send you an invoice.’ What a down-to-earth, good guy.

Fortunately, I got asked by one of my son’s friends to speak at a function for Genera Ltd, the biggest biosecurity company in Australasia, and that led to a job. They’re a company which uses heavy-hitting fumigation for import and export goods such as logs and containers. Head office is at Mount Maunganui and they were rebranding the pest-management division as Genus. I was looking for something local and started as business development manager. There were five of us on staff then and the business has grown and now has 30-odd staff including subcontractors — and these days I manage the business. Rugby opened that door for me and I was able to walk right through that opening.

After years of promotional work, I was glad to have a steady income. I didn’t have a Bull Allen business plan for my promotional company, but we did okay. I could have pushed it more, but I wanted to be a better father and husband and be with my family. That’s what motivates me, that’s my mantra now, and I didn’t want to keep trading on being ‘Bull Allen’ the rugby player.

Being a good dad is worth striving for and you get great feedback. My older daughter Sarah is 29 and has three little ones so, yes, I am Grandad Bull. Geralyn and I have four kids: Luke is 22, Thomas is 20, Molly is 15 and my youngest fella James is 12.

Geralyn teaches English and literacy at Te Wharekura o Mauao, which is a Te Reo immersion wharekura in Bethlehem where the kids are amazing: bilingual, real team players and great at rugby too. By the end of the week Geralyn is exhausted, but she loves the work and feels if we can all make a bit of a difference that’s the reward.

Life’s good. We run a big bus, with four kids still at home and my mother-in-law living with us too. I’m coaching footy teams. I’ve coached the older boys who are 17 months apart and both played for the under-18 Bay of Plenty team the same season. I’ve coached Tai Mitchell, which is a rep team in the Bay that my youngest fella is in, and now he’s in the Roller Mills Bay of Plenty Primary School team. He’s a hooker and he goes well.

I haven’t had a drink for years. It had to stop. I remember coming back from one rugby trip when I missed a flight and Geralyn picked me up and said, ‘If you expect me to keep making excuses for you to your kids, I’m not going to any more. How is it you give your best to others and can’t give us the same attention?’

It was simple; it had to stop. Life’s been better since then. I love playing tennis, which I’ve picked up again after playing as a youngster, and a mate of mine has a ping-pong table and we get into great matches there. I swim and I’m into working with kettlebells and then into the sauna to stretch and recover. I’m enjoying every day as it comes. Why worry about tomorrow when the worries about today are enough? I want to enjoy life and see what unfolds.

Frank Bunce

Frank Bunce began his All Blacks test career in 1992 at second five-eighth, but thereafter was the linchpin at centre until 1997, in a legendary pairing with Walter Little (see later in this book). He ran up 96 test points, including 20 tries. Before his All Blacks debut, he represented Samoa in the 1991 World Cup. He played for the Chiefs in Super Rugby 1996–98, and for Auckland and North Harbour at provincial level. He also played for Castres club in France and Bristol in England.

Ab out five years ago I got my first real job when I bought a tyre business in Thames.

Working for Sky and doing other rugby stuff was becoming a bit repetitive and one day my mate rang and asked me to go and help out at the opening of his shop in Thames. I wasn’t that keen; I’d worked in a tyre shop when I was on school holidays and didn’t fancy doing that again. Or so I thought.

Anyway, I ended up tagging along with him. The basics were still the same, but the hydraulics and options were better. My mate Rob had bought the business and asked me to work with him for a few months. It turned out to be good timing. While working there, we lived out in the country on 21 acres at Kawakawa Bay with fresh air, horses and few neighbours and work was an easy hour drive away.

Carla, the mother of my two youngest kids Victoria, nine, and Josh, seven, fancied the idea of me doing some regular work because I wasn’t doing a lot otherwise. (Oldest boy Chance is 31, Samantha is 25 and Jordan is 22.) I was full-on working, getting my hands dirty. I didn’t mind it, and the physical stuff is fine. After all, I ran the roads on the garbo truck for ages and that was probably my best job as it kept me fit for footy, it didn’t last all day and was a good excuse to get up each day.

After a couple of months working at the tyre business, I’d grown to like it so much that I bought it. It goes well and I’ve got a manager there, which gives me freedom to do any speaking at rugby clubs, chatting to schools and promotional stuff, and it puts money in the kitty. I look after myself and that’s a better way to go.

Now I’ve moved to Cambridge, where Carla is originally from. We’re set with horses on five acres of land and my kids are settled there and that means we will sell our place at Kawakawa.

Things have worked out okay. They could have been better, but my timing has usually been pretty good. I get invited to work at the sevens up in Hong Kong, Vegas and Chicago, and I have done some work for the consulate in Hawaii.

The good thing about rugby is you can make friends for life. If you, say, go to the States and find a rugby club and say where you are from, you have then got a new network of friends.

I go up to watch Manukau play club rugby a couple of times a month, I watch All Blacks tests on television, attend the occasional reunion to catch up with some old mates or guys we rarely see, and I’ll maybe watch a Friday game of Super Rugby, but there are way too many games on the calendar.

Going back a bit there was the charity event Fight for Life, and TV shows like Dancing with the Stars. Fight