They do not retire shirt numbers in New Zealand. Instead, every individual lucky enough to represent the All Blacks is meant to dedicate himself to matching the standard set by his predecessor in the position. Fine in theory, all but impossible in the case of the black No7 jersey now being handed in by the suitably magnificent Richie McCaw.
If wearing the No11 jersey has not been hard enough since Jonah Lomu stepped aside, pity poor Sam Cane or Ardie Savea when New Zealand next play a Test match, against Wales in Auckland in June. McCaw’s retirement was widely expected but the extent of the hole it leaves is unprecedented. Imagine trying to replace 148 Tests’ worth of experience (131 of them won), 110 of them as captain (including 97 wins and two World Cup titles). All those team talks, all those quiet encouraging words, all those mood-establishing press conferences: before McCaw stepped on to the field he had already more than earned his match fee.
New Zealand being New Zealand, they will cope without him. They always do; it is one of the principal reasons why their standards seldom slip. The king is dead, long live the king and all that. It will be tougher this time, with Dan Carter, Conrad Smith, Ma’a Nonu, Keven Mealamu and Tony Woodcock also heading for the exit gate, but McCaw is hardly leaving his country in the lurch. Double world champions, with power to add, is not a bad legacy.
In a way, though, nothing sums up McCaw better than the manner of his departure. Not for him a brief, mercenary raid on the bank balance of a European club owner or a short, easy hop into a television studio. His next step will be to qualify as a commercial helicopter pilot and refocus on his business and charity interests. The grandson of Jim McCaw, a distinguished fighter pilot based in England during the second world war, has long had an interest in flying.
Not since Tony Underwood went off to become a commercial pilot has any British player done likewise. There are plenty of specialist forward coaches out there, no shortage of media pundits and a few successful individuals such as Lawrence Dallaglio, who have used their profile in the game as a springboard into the corporate world. The professionalism of rugby union has improved standards in many ways but, aside from marrying into the royal family, it has not necessarily encouraged innovative post-career moves.
This is certainly a different era to the one inhabited by the great British Lion winger Tony O’Reilly, who arrived at training in a chauffeur-driven limo when he was recalled by Ireland in 1970 after a seven-year absence. These days the 34-year-old McCaw is very much a rarity in choosing to give it away at the peak of his fame, with his eyes already set on new horizons. “The last thing I wanted to do was limp to the end,” he told his farewell press conference in Wellington. “I’m excited with what’s in the future … I guess it’s the end of a chapter and the start of a new one but it has been a hell of a ride.”
Before he straps on his helmet, though, let us pay one final tribute to a man who gave the phrase Great All Black a new dimension. In McCaw’s autobiography there is a telling passage in which he describes addressing the team in the Heritage hotel in Auckland before their end-of-year-tour in 2008. Once everyone had arrived in the meeting room, he laid out a New Zealand jersey on the floor and asked them if they were prepared to do what it took to be an All Black. “This jersey will show up the frauds and the impostors. It’ll squeeze those who look for short cuts. It’s not about wearing this jersey, it’s about filling it.” The player who fills the black No7 jersey with more distinction than McCaw will have achieved the impossible.
