Letter from New Zealand


As the final whistle blew it came from somewhere deep within, spewing forth with a life all of its own – an ugly, primal sound, a full-throated roar of despair: “No-ooooooo!”

Then my body started shaking. I felt nauseous and partner Lisa spouted Buddhist philosophy, something about “balancing my ego”. “Focus on the good things in your life” she said, “like me!” On screen, men in blue shirts jumped about wildly, while some blokes in a colour that made no sense – grey – sank to their knees, their emotions mirroring mine. The next few hours are a blur. Wine, Bourbon & coke, half a dozen Lion Red beers. Nothing could shut out the pain, the memory. Curiously, I wasn’t angry – not at my beloved All Blacks at least, or even the referee. Instead, my thoughts turned inwards, and a river of questions flooded my brain. How could this be? How could a game of rugby take this kind of mental, physical and emotional toll? How could I have not learned the lesson of four years ago? In 2003, when we got to the semi-finals at least, I had just come back to my ‘second home’ for my second stint at living and playing rugby for Brecon with my good mate Brett Johnson, and I couldn’t believe we didn’t get through and win it. Yet here I am again in 2007, spiralling into a pit of despair.

Come on South Africa. Please, please, please.

If there is any justice in this world, the Springboks will annihilate England in the Rugby World Cup final on Sunday morning and strike a blow for southern hemisphere rugby's mad, crazy obsession with providing a bit of entertainment. England is in the World Cup final. England is in the World Cup final. England is in the World Cup final. You can repeat these words over and over again, and they still sound like a crazy nightmare. Boring and hopeless England are in the World Cup final ... it doesn't get any worse does it?

Come on South Africa. Please, please, please.

On a lighter note, and somewhat more positive, things back in New Zealand are great. My partner Lisa & I are living in Ellerslie Auckland, she’s the area manager / event specialist Christian Dior cosmetics throughout New Zealand. I’m still at New Zealand’s no. 1 radio stations Newstalk ZB / Radio Sport as a producer and account manager (Radio Advertising) and absolutely love it. My rugby playing days, along with Brett Johnson, finished at the start of last year, however I keep busy going to the gym and running, just about to do a half marathon this coming Monday with my partner. I tell you – 6’7” running down the road for 21km’s is not a pretty sight – but it’s exercise – and surprisingly looking forward to it.

I was fortunate enough to be Brett’s best man at his wedding earlier this year, was a great day / night and we were fortunate to have some of Welsh friends come over and experience the day with us. He’s happy – living in Tauranga and working as a policeman in Te Puke, Bay of Plenty.
Johnny Morris and his family have been here for approximately 6 months now, I see him quite a bit and he’s always doing things that I haven’t done in NZ (yet) and always proudly boasting that he’s been jumping out of airplanes, bunjy jumping etc. Good on him I say, great to have him with us.

There is many a time where I think of Brecon and reminisce. As I said earlier, Brecon is like a 2nd home to me, and will always be. The people and the atmosphere of your town will be with me forever, as will the friendships and memories that were made during my time there. Keep in support of the local rugby team, Brecon RFC is a proud club, a club that I can say, and I’m sure Brett will agree, we were privileged to play for.

Pob Hwyl Sam Walsh