Since my first visit to the country back in 1993, South Africa has always been a special place for me and I have built up a number of great friendships here over the years – both inside and outside of rugby.
Some of my South African highlights include a 2006 reconnaissance trip, when I based myself in Durban. During that trip, I got to know Dick Muir, who was then the Sharks coach, really well. He’s a great guy. I had come across him on the circuit and we got on particularly well, as I always found him to be an open person. He had some good rugby insights too, and we exchanged ideas with each other. Dick was also a great one for bringing in any expertise he felt was needed and he didn’t let egos get in the way when he sought advice or help.
In 2007 I returned to Durban on a work-experience trip, and caught up with my old mate John Plumtree, who happens to have been born in the same town as me. By that stage, Plum was the assistant coach at the Sharks and Dick was the head coach. They invited me to watch the 2007 Super Rugby semi-final – the Sharks versus the Blues. I was even invited to sit in on a team meal with the Sharks in the build-up to the final, which was to be played at Kings Park. Unfortunately, though, I had to be back in Perth and my flights were already booked. I watched the game on television when I got back to Australia and, of course, I was rooting for the Sharks.
Then, in 2009, Plumtree called me to ask whether I would work at the Sharks on a temporary consultancy basis while he was away for a few weeks. Although I was still officially with the Force then, it was outside of our season. I acted as assistant coach for two weeks, with Grant Bashford as the head coach, and I was present for Bashy’s coaching debut in a Currie Cup match against the Leopards in Rustenburg. We smashed them, and afterwards, in the Sharks bus on the way back to Durban, I was taken by surprise and initiated into the squad. Luckily I got my strikes on the buttocks from Steven Sykes, all in good humour.
While I was in South Africa during that 2009 stint, it occurred to me that I needed to get back into a rugby country. In other words, I had to coach either in New Zealand or South Africa. When I was winding down my career with the Western Force, I put out feelers to see if I could go back to coaching the Chiefs, but I was told that I was third in line behind Warren Gatland and Dave Rennie. They were also already looking at employing Wayne Smith when he was finished with the All Blacks in 2011.
I was also informed that the NZRU people weren’t quite ready for me to return just yet. Remember that the coaches at franchise level in New Zealand are employed by the NZRU. They were quite explicit about it, so I decided it was a line I should not pursue further. I knew that other opportunities would come up.
The Lions had approached me in 2009, before Dick Muir’s time there. I remember meeting the Lions guys in a Wimpy restaurant somewhere in Pretoria. It was not the last time that I would have to meet Lions officials in a Wimpy either – which was appropriate, as it later emerged that they were quite cash-strapped. Perhaps they had to resort to doing all their business in fast-food joints. I turned down their first offer.
After the 2007 World Cup, I had also been approached by South Africa and was asked to apply for the Springbok job. I was sent a contract and I took a good look at it, but decided not to pursue it. I wasn’t ready for such a role at that stage. South Africa was the old foe of New Zealand rugby – it would have been like coaching the enemy. And, at that point, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to live in South Africa anyway. As a player or a coach, you are constantly confined to hotels when you are touring overseas, so you don’t have any idea of what the country is really like. I had the impression that Johannesburg was just one big uniform concrete jungle, and it was only when I came to live there that I realised that there are 20 different suburbs, including leafier parts like Sandton.
Then, in early 2008, newly appointed Springbok coach Peter de Villiers asked me to meet him for coffee at the Cullinan Hotel in Cape Town. I was in South Africa at the time with the Western Force, who were taking part in a pre-season tri-series involving the Stormers and the Sharks, played at Newlands. Peter asked me to consider becoming an assistant or technical Springbok coach.
I ran his offer past Dick Muir and Gary Gold, who, by then, had been appointed as assistant coaches to the Springboks. They both thought it was a good idea and had no problem with it. But, somehow, I still couldn’t get my head around the idea of coaching South Africa against the All Blacks. It just didn’t feel right, and it all went back to that old-foe argument, as I had had no similar qualms about being involved with England. (Admittedly, it wasn’t a nice feeling coaching England against New Zealand, but I reckoned it would have been a much worse situation being part of a Bok squad.)
Then, as De Villiers explains in his book, the same offer presented itself again, during the 2010 Currie Cup. Peter wanted me to be involved as an assistant, and I agreed to meet him at the Grayston Drive Holiday Inn in Sandton to discuss it. I was due to meet him at 5 p.m. I had seen Dick Muir earlier that day, and he’d said it was a good idea. I only learnt much later that Peter was looking to replace Dick and Gary at the behest of the South African Rugby Union (SARU).
I was just leaving to meet Peter when I received a call from his secretary to tell me not to turn up. Peter had met with the Lions president, Kevin de Klerk, earlier that afternoon and De Klerk had advised him not to approach me. Kevin had said it wasn’t a good idea.
Why on earth Peter felt the need to ask Kevin, I have no idea. De Klerk was also out of line to say what he did and he should not have made decisions on my behalf.
I had decided to turn Peter down anyway, but it was important for me to tell him my reasons face to face. I had been appointed as Lions coach by that stage, and although I felt I had too much to do at the Lions, I still wanted to keep the lines of communication open, as I figured I might be prepared to do the job at a later stage. That is the way it works in rugby. Peter’s rudeness pissed me off.
Business is not all about saying yes – it’s also about how to communicate ‘no’ in the right way. When Peter and I crossed paths again later in the year, while he was touring the country in a quest to get buyin from the provincial coaches on the management of the Springbok players, I let him know how I felt.
I told him I was disappointed in him. He said in reply that he had been disappointed that I had gone to the media. That was complete bollocks – although the media guys were speculating, and maybe they had been tipped off by officials higher up the rugby food chain, they never heard anything from me. Besides, a lot of coaches’ names were being bandied about at the time.
Dick and Gary were the catalysts for me handing out Springbok jerseys before a 2009 Tri-Nations game against Australia in Perth. Afterwards, the ARU accused me of being a traitor. But any fallout was worth it, as it was a huge experience for me. I already knew how tall Victor Matfield was, but being with these Bok players for the first time, in the flesh, made me realise how particularly impressive Bakkies Botha was as a human specimen.
In my speech, I told the Boks what the All Black jumper and the rivalry between the All Blacks and the Springboks meant to me personally. I reminded them that they existed in a professional world where the coach decides who wears the jersey, but stressed that the one thing money can’t buy is attitude.
I had my picture taken with the Boks afterwards – I must surely be one of the first New Zealanders to be photographed with a group of Springboks.
By 2010, it had become clear to me that my choice had to be New Zealand or South Africa. I had chased the New Zealand option, but I had never pursued the opportunity in South Africa. It turned out that Dick Muir would open that door. He gave me a call during the 2010 Super 14 season and told me that he was so tied up in his role as assistant Springbok coach that he needed my help. He told me he was going to take up the position of director of rugby at the Lions and asked if I would come in as the coach.
I had 16 weeks’ leave due to me, which was perfect, as it roughly corresponded with the length of the Currie Cup season. So I told the CEO of the Force that I had an opportunity to do a short-term contract in the Currie Cup and I reasoned that it would be good for me, as I wasn’t coaching enough. He gave me the go-ahead. So I agreed to join the Lions, but told Dick it would be on a short-term arrangement and we would have to see how it panned out.
I was duly appointed head coach of the Lions Currie Cup team and handed in my resignation at the Force once I was assured that I would be given a full-time contract with the Lions. I had a good relationship with the officials initially and got on really well with Kevin de Klerk, the president. So much so, in fact, that, later on, when he was keen to get the SARU job, De Klerk asked me if I would come with him. In other words, to be the Springbok coach. He told me that I was the best coach he had ever come across, but concluded with a little rejoinder: ‘Just make sure that you know South African boys need some TLC.’ He obviously felt that I drove the players a little too hard.
However, I didn’t have much time for TLC when I first arrived at the Lions. Fortunately, Dick had already recruited fellow Kiwi Wayne Taylor, the conditioning coach, and he was starting to put his plans in place. It was clear to me from day one that a heck of a lot of conditioning was necessary. I felt for Dick, as he had been in charge of a fat squad. No wonder they couldn’t play the rugby he wanted them to play.
If you look at the sides that I have been in charge of, it should be noticeable that they haven’t been brimful of great players. When I have had success, it has been because of a formula that I have applied. For the style of rugby that I wanted to play, it was necessary to go heavy on the conditioning. And Wayne Taylor should take a lot of credit for getting the Lions into shape. To me, even now, they still look better conditioned than most other South African sides. The current Lions conditioning coach learnt that from Wayne.
At the same time, however, we also looked after the players’ well-being. We spent a lot of time monitoring muscle soreness and hydration, among other things. Unfortunately, the technical support wasn’t great, so we didn’t have the means at that time to apply anything other than subjective analysis.
The players bought into the process and started to thrive once they saw the results of their hard work. I think the later problems arose when players who were introduced from other environments struggled to adjust. It took my first Lions squad an entire campaign to adapt.
We did a lot of grappling before the season started. ‘Grappling’ is the term we use to refer to pre-season body-weight one-on-one conditioning, effectively a type of rugby-specific wrestling, which builds bravery and courage, and provides a good means for assessing character under pressure. I think grappling was the activity the players hated the most.
We didn’t have much depth, so we needed to find out quickly who would front up for us and who wouldn’t. The players at the Lions had not had much training, so we had a lot of catching up to do. We were looking for lean rugby players.
In a sense, we were also lean as a coaching group, as we only had a small management team and many jobs to do with a limited number of people. There are a lot of head coaches in the game today who don’t even coach; they tend to advise and manage. But we were all directly involved in trying to make progress and, ultimately, achieve success.
Unfortunately, due to a combination of poor communication and adverse circumstances, Dick and I ended up having a falling out. At the time I was offered a contract, Dick was with the Boks and I saw him less than half a dozen times during the Currie Cup. The whole idea, though, had been that I would coach the Currie Cup side and then work with Dick in Super Rugby.
In between my short-term and full-time contracts, Robert Gumede and Ivor Ichikowitz, of the Guma Group and Transafrica Capital, came in as the Lions’ equity partners. I called Dick aside after a golf day and asked him what his plans were. I told him I needed to know before I signed a contract because I wanted clarification on the role he wanted me to play.
He told me the idea was to have my coaching competency and his business skills and South African connection to create a fantastic mix. At least that was the theory. It turned out, however, that Gumede had other ideas. He didn’t want to pay for two people. And that drove a wedge between Dick and me, because he was under the impression that I had done him in. The problem was, he hadn’t spoken to me; if he had, he would have known I had done no such thing.
Dick told the Lions that they owed him a contract because they had an agreement in writing. I think he might still be fighting that battle with them.
One day, as I was driving down the M1, I got a call from Dick’s good friend Pierre Dormehl, who asked me why I was shafting his mate. I went to see Pierre and told him the story. I explained that I had signed a contract while under the impression that Dick was getting a contract as well. I told him that it had transpired that the people who were controlling the money had ideas that were different from what we had agreed to and what the original understanding had been.
After having heard my side of the story, Pierre saw my point and asked Dick to meet with me, so that he too could be au fait with what was going on. I agreed to meet with Dick at Montecasino, where the Springboks were staying. But Dick was animated and annoyed, and I remember being really upset about our meeting afterwards. It worried me, because I like Dickie and never had any intention of shafting him. After all, he was the guy who had brought me to the country.
I think Kevin de Klerk could have handled the situation better. He should have stuck to the agreement and stuffed Gumede and his crew.
But, you also have to remember what sort of organisation we are talking about, and its ethos. The Lions had come last in Super Rugby under Dickie and they’d lost a whole lot of players. There were many guys out injured when I arrived for the Currie Cup and, as I said before, it was a squad of fat players. Throughout the Currie Cup season there was still corridor talk about the atrocious Super Rugby performance.
Looking back, there were two other factors that contributed to the situation. Firstly, Dick wasn’t around often enough to make himself heard upstairs and, secondly, he and I weren’t sharp enough or aware enough of who these new partners were who had come in. They were the ones responsible for the divisiveness that occurred because there was no way they wanted two people. And Dick didn’t help matters by taking so long to get my contract activated.
I probably didn’t see Dick’s problem from his viewpoint. I just kept telling him, ‘Look, mate, this is the situation I am in.’ It wasn’t me who was dealing with the management at the Lions and negotiating how everything was going to be structured. And Dick, who was the person who should have been doing all of that, was always away.
I kept him informed all the time, but we missed out on signing a couple of key players because we couldn’t streamline our communication effectively. J.P. Pietersen had expressed an interest in coming to the Lions, and there were also a couple of other guys we were interested in signing up.
I experienced the wrath of yet another of my good mates during that period when John Plumtree got pissed at me for negotiating with Sharks prop Tendai ‘Beast’ Mtawarira. I had to explain to Plum that Gumede and Eric Ichikowitz had contacted Beast and that I had known nothing about it. Eric was one of Gumede’s representatives and Ivor’s brother. He and Gumede had gone to see Mtawarira themselves, and I was only consulted afterwards.
Dickie was excluded from their decision-making and so was I – but Dickie didn’t realise that I was also excluded. When he heard about the Beast negotiations, he asked me where I was getting the money from. And then my mate in Durban accused me of stealing his players. Plum told me that our friendship couldn’t survive if we were in the same marketplace poaching each other’s players. Eventually, I had to call a meeting with the partners and make it clear that, as the coaches, Dickie and I should be the ones who determined which players come and go.
The big man behind the scenes was Eric Ichikowitz. He thought he was a player agent, and he so much reminded me of the lead character in the Tom Cruise movie Jerry Maguire. I half expected him to start screaming, ‘Show me the money! Show me the money!’ It was like he was living out his fantasy.
There came a point when I decided I just had to meet with the board and inform them of my growing concern at how the place was being run. We met at Ivor Ichikowitz’s house, and I told them I had to work with them as a team and would not carry on meeting with them individually. My priority, I said, was to look after the team and not to have to worry about what happened between them in terms of the structures.
Later in the season Ivor came up to me in the president’s suite and asked me how he could help me. I told him he couldn’t if he, Kevin and Gumede were not united.
It was clear to me by the end of that Currie Cup season that, once again, I was entering a zone where there was going to be no stability for me.
‘Oh, boy!’ I thought. ‘This could be the Western Force all over again …’