DOUG Smith, team manager of the 1971 Lions and therefore a rugby man of substance, was blunt in his assessment of his opponents on that famous tour: “They were bastards, the New Zealanders.” He was not talking of anyone in particular, possibly because there was too much choice, but one name became synonymous with the darker, rougher side of events on that trip.
Step forward Alex “Grizz” Wyllie, above, the ultra-formidable All Black flanker and coach who passed away last week, deep in his 81st year. His achievements were manifold, but up here in the north, it was his part in the “Battle of Canterbury” – less an attempt by him and his fellow provincial forwards to soften-up the tourists ahead of the Test series as to break them in body and spirit – that set him apart.
True to character, Wyllie was unapologetic. Your intrepid columnist once raised the subject with him – we met in his bar in Christchurch back in 2005 – and he was happy to chew the fat. “It wasn’t meant to be a tea party, the Lions knew it and they weren’t slow in dishing it out themselves,” he said with a shrug. “People made a fuss, but to us it was a hard game and not much more.”
Of course, there was far more to him than a bunch of fives attached to a mean streak. “We may have seen things a little differently from time to time, especially on the subject of my own form,” said Warren Gatland, who broke into the New Zealand squad during Wyllie’s spell of stewardship, “but I learned a hell of a lot from him. He had interesting, forward-thinking ideas about fitness and despite his reputation as a player, his coaching was about pace, intensity and heads-up decision-making.”
As opposed to heads-off decision-making, you might say.
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