Sunday, September 10, 2017
Welcome to Meadsville.
This one rocked me.
It's taking some time to come to terms with.
Colin Meads was super human. Immortal.
If Colin Meads can die, then I can too, and that's a sobering thought.
I knew him well. We all did. Like my mother, from the King Country. We grew up watching him. Shared the triumphs. Chests puffed out - nobody can beat the All Blacks!
Images: carrying the ball in one hand, locking the scrum for New Zealand with his brother Stanley, playing a test match with a broken arm.
From then via farming adverts for hay bale twine, and fence posts, he epitomised the ruggedly brawny, quietly spoken, humble, words-are-cheap-deeds-are-dear New Zealand male we aspired to be.
And now, number 583's gone and gone too is some of our youth and our invincibility.
Remember him this way: