Bulldogs tiptoed past him.

The 45 yr old ball of muscle grunted his way through another gruelling hill sprint while much younger men are bent over on their haunches recovering and preparing for the next gutbusting effort. You could always tell when Mick was running behind you because all you could hear would be a rasping, heaving sound as if a Boeing jet engine was misfiring and in need of desperate electrical repair. Sometimes we were worried that there would be no pure oxygen left for the rest of us, because Mick was frantically sucking it all up himself. His burly frame made its almost impossibe to imagine that this man began his senior rugby more than three decades earlier in the midfield.

I doubt many loved their rugby as much as Mickey. He epitomised the very best values of a Waikato club rugby player. He was man of few words, wasnt at all interested in the latest training innovations and certainly didnt hydrate himself with the amount of water prescribed by the puritans following the game, but make no mistake rugby ran thickly through his veins. He would always front up and give everything he had to the cause. Even in his late 40s he was still turning out for the Morrinsville Sports Senior Bs, anchoring the set piece at tighthead prop and putting the fear of God into many of the opposition with his own version of bush justice.

The majority of his playing career was spent with Morrinsville Old Boys club until their almalgamation with Marist to form Morrinsville Sports, who Mickey represented for several seasons in the twilight of his career. Morrinsville Sports are now a solid 1st Division outift and recently celebrated one of their own Brendon Leonard, as the clubs first All Black.


Decked out in his usual faded denim Morrinsville Sports club shirt, old jeans, sneakers, shaved head covered by that blue Yankees cap, bristling handle bar moustache plus a few faded works of bodyart on his hands Mick didnt look like a man to be trifled with. His hands were like shovels, fingers the size of sausages from years of boning carcasses and the physique of a man who had lived a life of hard graft. But that description neglects to take into account the beaming smile, happy eyes, and sincere warmth his mates loved so much, although members of opposing teams were not fortunate enough to enjoy. He was also a loving husband, father and koro who was adored by his family.


My first recollections of Mick were that he was more than a little wary of me, possibly regarding me as a threat to take over his position or replace one of his team mates. Another staunch old Morrinsville prop said he was also received the cold shoulder until Mick was satified he could handle himself on the field. Once you were accepted words cant descrbe the bond that developed between our front row. For the next few seasons our scrum became a lethal weapon, disposing of much bigger forward packs with relative ease. Our front row combination fitted together like a glove. If you are lucky enough to play in the front row with the right guys who happen to be you be great mates with you are onto a winner. The emotional aspect of rugby should never be discounted. Its just as vital a piece in the puzzle as fitness and skills. When you are on completely the same wavelength as your team mates and know how they will dig in when the pressure comes on, you have something special on your hands. And we did.

Mick didnt know how to take a backward step. He had no reverse gear and he would do whatever he thought was necessary (whether they were in the IRB rule books or not) to look after his team mates. I never heard him bragging about his pugolistic prowess but quite clearly he was not a hombre to trifle with. I remember the expressions of caution and concern amongst the oppostion oneday at Rugby Park, after Mick arrived on the field as a replacement.

There are many great yarns about Mick and his big brown fists that I would love to share but simply dont have time but there are a few worth telling. Oneday at Cambridge one of the boys copped a boot to the kisser in the first few minutes of the game. Mickey bided his time and waited, until everyone including the opposing perpetrator had forgotten all about the incident.....and then he struck. It was after the final whistle actually while most of the guys were getting off the ground and preparing to shake hands, Mick picked his moment and struck with precison. Utu. Dont mess with Morrinsville. We went onto win the championship that year.

There is another great yarn about Mick and his brother Kiwi cleaning up a bunch of bikies outside the Ohaupo Tavern after a club game. Mick was across the road at the Takeaways watching everything kick off for several minutes until he came sprinting over to entered the fray. When someone later asked why he took so long to join the melee, he replied "I was busy eating my Hawaiian burger."


One of my favourite stories was when two brothers in our backline both suffered serious leg injuries during the same match and were rushed to hosptial. It would be fair to say the two didnt have the greatest pain threshold in the world and there was alot of yelping going on and Mick was not impressed. He turned to me and grumbled "Listen to those little bitches moan, anybody would think they are related." I was quite surprised by Micks reaction given that he had played rugby with the brothers for about four seasons, but obviously never made the connection.

Mick loved the third half just as much as the previous eighty minutes and enjoyed nothing better than staying behind in the sheds to help his front row colleagues polish off a cheap flagon of port. After a few hours with his mates and family in the clubrooms he usually shuffled off with his wife to the infamous public bar of the Nottingham Castle. Although he didnt say much you could tell 'Hootin Annie' relished the culture of club rugby and his valued his place in the team. Up and coming professional players could have learnt alot from him.

Mickey passed away unexpectedly after a short illness in 2005. He has gone but will never be forgotten. Thankfully the legacy continues with a strapping young centre named Micheal Hotene making his mark in this years Morrinsville Sports senior side.