Scotty Stevenson - Croczilla

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

ISBN

e: 978-1-988516-46-2

m: 978-1-988516-47-9

A Mower Book

Published in 2018 by Upstart Press Ltd

Level 4, 15 Huron St, Takapuna 0622

Auckland, New Zealand

Text Wyatt Crocket 2018

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

Design and format Upstart Press Ltd 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Designed by www.CVDgraphics.nz

For Jenna, Sonny & Emmett, who made it all possible.

Contents

Writers Note

I have always had an admiration for players who fight for every minute. Professional rugby is a tough business, and it takes a strong character to survive at the highest levels of the sport as long as Wyatt Crockett has. It also takes patience, perseverance, kindness, belief, respect, honesty and integrity. This is a story about all of those things, embodied by one of the hardest-working men to have ever played the game. Wyatt sure did play the game, and he definitely fought for every minute.

I have been fortunate to get to know Wyatt over many seasons and have long admired his tenacity and his generosity. I have learned of his fears and I have celebrated his feats. I have enjoyed watching him succeed, knowing how much effort it took, physically and mentally. To Wyatt, and to Jenna, Sonny and Emmett and all the family, thank you for entrusting me with this tale. It has been a privilege to help put such a remarkable career on the page.

Thanks also go to Crockys teammates, especially Kieran Read, Luke Romano, Andy Ellis and Corey Flynn, for adding to the laughs; to Clive Akers, Geoff Miller and Adrian Hill for their enduring custodianship of the invaluable Rugby Almanack ; to Warren Adler and Kevin Chapman at Upstart for the opportunity; and to my own crew, for being awesome.

Foreword

By All Blacks captain Kieran Read

Im sure he wouldnt mind me saying this, but Wyatt Crockett is dead-set the clumsiest guy I have ever met in my life. He has, without a word of a lie, inadvertently injured more of his teammates than any player in history. He has dislocated our fingers, broken our toes, fractured our ribs, blackened our eyes and knocked us clean out. Goodness knows what damage he could have done if he ever intended to harm us.

Yes, he is quite possibly the clumsiest fella in the history of New Zealand rugby. He is also one of the most dedicated, most caring, most compassionate, most loyal and hardest-working men I have ever had the pleasure to call a friend. And that is what he has been to me since our paths first crossed in Canterbury in 2005: a friend. I was the greenhorn from Counties-Manukau trying to crack it in the big league; he already had a foot in the door with the Crusaders and with Canterbury. When it came to our rugby careers, we both dreamed big.

From the very first time we played together, I could tell Crocky was just one of those guys I could trust with my life. He believed so much in the power of the team over the individual and made every newcomer feel welcome. Even though he was still seeking his own place in the pecking order, he knew how intimidating the professional environment could be and as such worked assiduously to ensure the young guys quickly found their feet.

Never one to talk too much or to voice his opinion in team meetings or on the training field, Crocky possesses a perennially enthusiastic disposition that we all love. Just one look at his big dumb grin puts you in a good mood, especially as he reserves his very biggest, dumbest grins for the times when the joke is on him, which is almost always.

You see, Crocky is a man who just cant help but find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. In a career spanning 14 seasons and a record 203 Crusaders appearances, he was embroiled in some form of amusing pickle from which he could not extract himself at least once a week. For starters, he has absolutely no sense of direction (I wouldnt be surprised if he has got lost in his own home) and his penchant for social faux pas is legendary. On top of that, he would have to be a starter for most forgetful man in the world. I am amazed he has been able to write this book.

I still remember a time on tour when Crocky arrived at the team dining table looking especially pleased with his rather large bowl of ice cream. It was drowned in what he thought was chocolate sauce. It took him just one spoonful to realise he had ladled the buffets meat gravy all over his frozen confection. Its fair to say we loved being around him for moments like that.

There is a lot more to Wyatt Crockett than the laughs, though. Underpinning everything he does, and has done, is a steely determination to be the best he can be. He is a man of integrity and discipline, and that is why he has been able to set playing records that might never be broken. I cannot stress enough just how impressive his playing statistics are. To play that many Super Rugby games is a staggering achievement and one that has absolutely nothing to do with luck.

He has had his tough times, as he will tell you in this book. For you, and for most of us, it will be the first time we have been able to get a true understanding of just how much the setbacks and the knockbacks took out of him. Through those tough times he remained incredibly stoic. Crocky never wanted to let his personal disappointments get in the way of his job for the team. That is one of his most admirable and astonishing qualities.

We played together for a long time, but it seems to have passed in the blink of an eye. We each got married to a great lady and we both had children. Crocky was always the guy I sought out for a quiet chat when I was on tour and missing my family or wondering what the hell I was supposed to do as a new father. He always listened, he always offered good advice, and he always made me feel worthy and better. We are both emotional guys and in a sport that still wrestles with its macho side, Crocky was the guy you could share a beer with and a tear with.

He leaves one hell of a legacy as a player, but an even greater one as a person. When you think that only the legendary Keven Mealamu and the late, great Sir Colin Meads sit ahead of him on the all-time first-class appearances list, you get a sense of just what kind of career he has had. Hopefully, after reading this book you will also appreciate just how much effort that took.

He may be the clumsiest bloke I know, but I dont think my career would have been half as much fun without Croczilla. He is one of a kind. We have been lucky to have him in our sport and I am lucky to have him on my side.

A home in the wilderness

I n the end there will be a love story, but in the beginning there was a home by the water in a peculiar corner of the country that most New Zealanders never have discovered. It was our home, but every summer we shared it with the holidaymakers who had found their way to us. That was just as we liked it, for home was a camping ground, by the water, where we counted the days in the calculations of the changing tides and upon the thick sprinkling of stars that hung above us on clear, cold nights.

Golden Bay is the kind of place that gives a compass a headache. Its wilderness cradles the eastern side of the north-western edge of the South Island, a great arc of hill-ringed coastline that stretches from Separation Point to the sandy finger of Farewell Spit. Separation to Farewell. It feels like one long goodbye. We first said hello to the place when I was just a wee bairn, barely able to remember the long, winding drive over Takaka Hill, its nauseating switchbacks and curves carved from the rock many years before by hardy men who endured terrible conditions to create the one and only route in and out of the bay.