Phil Gifford - Loose Amongst the Legends: A Memoir

A catalogue record for this e-book is available from the National Library of New Zealand.

ISBN: 978-1-978-927262-20-7

An Upstart Press Book

Published in 2014 by Upstart Press Ltd

B3, 72 Apollo Drive, Rosedale

Auckland, New Zealand

Text Phil Gifford 2014

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

Design and format Upstart Press Ltd 2014

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form.

E-book produced by CVdesign Ltd

PHOTO CREDITS:

Phil Gifford collection: All images unless noted.

Chapter Start Images:

Loosehead (Phil Gifford collection)

Remembering the days of rage (Phil Gifford collection)

The HenryDeans decision (Getty Images)

Sir Peter Leitch (Phil Gifford collection)

Sir Fred Allen (Sir Fred Allen collection)

Papaliitele Peter Fatialofa (Phil Gifford collection)

Billy T James (Phil Gifford collection)

Sir John Kirwan (Getty Images)

Sir Peter Snell (Phil Gifford collection)

Todd Blackadder (New Zealand Rugby Union)

Andrew Mehrtens (New Zealand Rugby Union)

Joe Stanley (Phil Gifford collection)

Peter FitzSimons (Billy Graham collection)

Billy Graham (Billy Graham collection)

Valerie Adams (Phil Gifford collection)

One I didnt love... Louis Luy (Getty Images)

Loving the Cup (Phil Gifford collection)

Growing up in Pleasantville (Phil Gifford collection)

Radio daze (Phil Gifford collection)

A very small cog in the industry of human happiness (Phil Gifford collection)

A short guide to the universe of public speaking (Phil Gifford collection)

Encounters of the show business kind (Phil Gifford collection)

The Greatest (New Zealand Rugby Union)

Front cover: Phil Gifford and his alter ego Loosehead Len.

This book is dedicated to Jan and our family.

My thanks to so many people in my life who have offered kindness and friendship, and to workmates who have been inspiring, helpful, and have given good advice. And thanks to Warren for years of unfailing decency and hard work.

Contents

Foreword

What an absolute privilege it is to be asked to write the foreword for Phils autobiography. As Phil pointed out to me when he asked me to write this piece, he could have asked Prime Minister John Key, Sir John Kirwan, Sir Peter Leitch, Sir Brian Lochore or even the great Richie McCaw, but he chose to give the task to the little common man the wee Ashburton Battler... his oft forgotten mate, Si.

I have known Phil for 22 years and, as far as intellect and telling a great story goes, there is none finer. Phil, as they say, could talk Edward Snowden out of hiding! He has a memory that is second to none and a breadth of knowledge that goes far beyond what he is widely renowned for, sport.

Phil in his many years on this planet has been an award-winning music reviewer, an award-winning author, an award-winning journalist, an award-winning radio announcer, a television presenter (he didnt win anything there for obvious reasons), a highly regarded after-dinner speaker and, quite simply, a wonderful man.

It is a credit to Phil that so many well-respected people over the years would trust their stories to him. They knew this was a man more loyal than a Border collie, with a wit and intellect as rare as you will find.

Phil often has me crying with laughter, as he regales me with story after story of people he has rubbed shoulders with. I simply love the man, every centimetre of him... and there are a lot of centimetres to love.

Put simply, Phil is one of lifes gems. You know every time, without exception, that if you spend time with him he just makes you feel better about life. The book you are about to read will make you glad to be alive and happy to have had an insight into some of this countrys finest told by a man who should be regarded in the same light.

Simon Barnett, broadcaster

Christchurch, February 2014

Authors note

The Academy award-winning French film director, Jean-Luc Godard, once said a story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end, but not necessarily in that order. The book youre about to read begins with a key person in my life, my imaginary friend Loosehead Len, and two of the great rugby controversies in my time. At the end I write about my family, and my working life in radio, television and print. The middle? The greatest joy Ive had from how Ive made a living has been the people Ive met, worked with, and interviewed. In some cases the contact was enthralling but fleeting. Ill always treasure the fact I interviewed undefeated heavyweight boxing champion Rocky Marciano, but Id never suggest I got to know him in 20 minutes one chilly morning at Auckland airport in 1966. But in the middle section of this book are the stories of 12 fascinating, high achieving people Ive had the privilege of actually getting to know.

Loosehead

T he conversation with Sir Edmund Hillary in his bach at Waihi Beach was grinding to a halt. Then the great mans eyes lit up and he leaned forward. So tell me. Was Buck Shelford dropped because he punched Grant Fox?

All awkwardness evaporated, and yet again I blessed the good fortune that had somehow given a hayseed kid from the heart of the heartland a chance to get to know, and in some cases even befriend, his rugby idols, to watch the sports he loved in all parts of the world, to never have a day that felt like work, to meet Mick Jagger, dance with Dame Edna Everage, and shake hands with the man who played guitar for Elvis Presley.

I owe so much to a mean-spirited, violent, bigoted, xenophobic, bludging, homophobic, money-hungry, cigarette-sucking, beer-swilling rugby freak called Loosehead Len.

Loosehead opened doors for me, although he was a strange sort of ambassador. When he sprang fully formed into my imagination in 1973, and then onto the pages of the 8 OClock , a Saturday night sports paper in Auckland, he was definitely a weird by-product of the rugby-mad country in which Id grown up.

I was a 26-year-old reporter at the Auckland Star , covering a strange mix of Auckland Regional Authority meetings, wool sales, crime stories, natural disasters and rock music.

After working for the New Zealand Press Association at the 1968 Mexico Olympics Id spent two years in England at a tiny paper in Sevenoaks in Kent, then gone to Edinburgh for the 1970 Commonwealth Games before returning home with hair to my shoulders and the germ of a writing idea.

I returned to the New Zealand Herald in August 1970, after being on leave of absence, but it wasnt an easy fit. Noel Chappell, a gaunt Dickensian executive, wrote me a wonderful letter saying: You have no doubt noticed that hair styles on the staff, though much different from those of 1968, are still rather more conservative than yours. Regrettable though it may be, appearance is a factor that has to be taken into account when assigning reporters to their duties, and I have no doubt were I chief reporter I would be asking you to accommodate yourself to our preferences. How do you feel about that?

I moved to the Auckland Star , hair intact, but not because of the Chappell letter. Id married Mary, a former nurse, in 1968, and our first child Jane was on the way. I wanted to work normal daytime hours on an afternoon paper, as the Star was, rather than nights at the Herald .