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biff

All Blacks

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I make no bones about it, I love my All Blacks, ever since the days I used to take my smelly oversized rugby ball to bed as a 6yo. The ball polished to an amazing state of preservation by Mum’s old cooking fat, or lard would leave stains on my sheets so bad Mum would have to scrub her fingers raw with her trusty peg board and sunlight soap to restore those sheets to that starched, blinding white hospital grade level that Mums used to do in the 50’s. That was if you came from working class New Zealand stock where we all used to run to the neighbours to watch the only TV in the street shared by that neighbour either from delusions of grandeur or just plain good heartedness.

Respect replaced love from the time I put my arms around the back of Murray Mexted to lock the scrum in the first representative game we ever played at Wakefield Park when Western Bays played Wellington, for me it also proved the last, for Murray it was the curtain raiser on what became a stellar career in rugby.

No matter, but those days in innocent New Zealand were wonderful, as we all gathered around the La Gloria wireless at God forsaken hours of the morning to listen to Winston McCarthy send his patriotic and descriptive broadcasts back to us bleary eyed rugby army that most Kiwi’s were and still are.

From the frozen frost burnt pitches of the North of England and Scotland came those commentaries that would leave us with shivers up the spine as the All Blacks trundled on relentlessly winning nearly all their games leaving us greeting each other the next morning at the local dairy as we bought the Sunday papers and milk with a ‘how good were the boys last night? That bloody referee, if he wasn’t so biased we would have put 100 over them’’ and other one eyed bleats of common support.

Those Northern tours were what brought the country together, when the All Blacks were great we could conquer the world, that far flung green patch in God Zone we all called home, except those intellectuals or expats that had left New Zealand to live in London in an effort to broaden their intellectual standing and outlook, and one could hardly do that in little old New Zealand back in the 50’s.

History repeats, with only some exceptions as the events of the past few years rugby wise, see’s the All Blacks reach heights other teams can only dream about. Of course now with Sky TV and Foxtel etc beaming games live into homes all over the planet we can all feel the euphoria now in a more tangible way, we can see it. The effort to set the clock and stay up is so much easier when you know there on the 55’’er on the wall or on the stand comes the visual delights we all crave for, a black tide of ruthless plunderers, a little like the Vikings, the bloodshed is there, the war cry is there, but not the rape and pillaging, well thanks to Richie maybe the pillaging but that’s not talked about save the IRB referee’s panel should hear and change the laws of the game to discourage pillaging the way Richie purveys the craft.

On Saturday at Murrayfield, the Black jersey did it’s-self proud, as it usually does. The fact that again the All Blacks put a Northern rugby team to the sword was not the defining fact, it was that rugby was sung from a song sheet that could have come from the repertoire of Mozart, or Verdi, or a score from Peter Jackson’s movie blockbusters…it was magical. They got it wrong a few times too, just to prove they are mortal, but when it came together as it often did during this 80 odd minutes this All Black team made us think for a while anyway, there’s not a lot wrong with the world. But life beyond rugby is there for all to see, it’s just for the next week in those country towns from Cape Reinga to Stewart Island the folk will greet each other with, ‘’how good were the boy’s, that ref had a shocker eh? Thompson’s boot was nowhere that fellas head, she’ll be right!’’

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Good stuff Biff.

Great memories of those days listening to Bob Irvine commontating from far and wide.

I can remember being in Welly the sunday after we beat Wales in the early hours in 1973/74

People were winding their windows down,handles back then,and saying exactly that.."how good were the boys".

A mate rang me from the Gold Coast today and said the same thing.

The ABs haven't changed much.Still got that passionate desire to win and do the country proud.

Being in Ozi at the moment they have sure made my day over the last ten odd years.The Rich/Dan days.Long may it continue.

How well would have Rich fitted into those great teams of the '60s?

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Quiz on 1960's Flankers for Rugby keeno's......say 1956-1976

1.....What AB flanker cut his finger off to enable himself to return from injury quicker ???

2.....What 'famous' AB flanker played tests over several years and never lost one ???

3.....What AB flanker scored 3 tries on debut [as a replacement]??

4....What AB flanker went to same school as Richie McCaw???

5....Did Colin Meads ever play a test as Flanker ????

6.....What flankers had the initials...a GC.....b KW......c IA......d TN

7....Name your 5 favourite flankers from that period???

How good is that memory ????

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Which ones did I get right Tasie?#7 :)

You did well.....Q4 and KW were both Ken Stewart from Southland.[school.....Otago Boys High School]WGraham was from Tauranga , along with the cricketing Bracewell brothers . a couple who were handy at Rugby as well.In fact you did real well !!!!

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