It’s something every rugby-mad family dreams of – a call-up to the All Blacks.
After
years of training, devotion and sacrifice, my brother Harry Plummer was drafted into the squad for the opening games of the Rugby Championship against Argentina.
My family could not be prouder. Yet it’s an elevation tinged with apprehension for me.
Because for the past five years my family has experienced the effects of tall poppy syndrome more acutely than most in New Zealand.
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It is a cancerous epidemic in our country which professional athletes, above anyone, are extensively subject to – none more so than rugby players.
I don’t know a single professional rugby player who hasn’t received some form of abuse during their career.
Harry, 26, is a professional rugby player for the Blues and Auckland. He has faced this phenomenon first-hand on a daily basis for the past five years.
And now, as Harry has joined the All Blacks as injury cover, my family celebrates.
Harry, a first-five and inside centre, burst on to the professional rugby scene at 20, debuting for the Blues in 2019 against the Crusaders at Eden Park.
Growing up, Harry, our older brother and I dreamed of playing for the Blues, devoting countless hours in the backyard where we had goalposts erected. We’d religiously fantasise we had a kick to win a match.
But, different to when we were kids, Harry actually had a kick to win his first match for the Blues – 45 metres out with one minute to play. It missed.
And then began five years of abuse, death threats and personal attacks. It was a public lynching. My family was in the hostile Eden Park crowd that night, listening to the barrage of attacks and boos being thrown at Harry. It cut deep.
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A 20-year-old had just achieved his dream – representing his region in a sport he’d already dedicated most of his life to – and he couldn’t feel worse.
I can’t think of a time I was more ashamed to be a New Zealander.
Despite devoting countless days of his life to training, becoming stronger in the gym, and honing his craft – excelling at first XV, age-grade, and club levels – it seems the success of his career was pre-emptively judged by a single kick.
What should have been a momentous occasion for my family back in 2019 – one that so few experience – was debased by negative reports in the media and social media posts, comments and messages of abuse from entitled “fans”.
Although the bombardment of abuse online fluctuated from week to week, it was always persistent – highlighting the not-so-glamorous side of professional sport.
Over the past five years I’ve come to learn this prejudice is ironic. Harry can go from being one of the best players on the field to the worst in the country in the space of a week – seemingly determined by people who sit at home on their couch watching him achieve his dream.
What are these keyboard warriors achieving by attacking someone’s character, telling them they’ll never be good enough and should be fired?
Spectators seem to think they have the right to abuse athletes online – a notion that has always baffled me.
How would you cope if hundreds of thousands of people criticised how you perform your job each week?
In rugby, we’ve seen it happen to everyone, from players and coaches to referees and even more recently, national anthem singers. Not to mention outside of rugby and sport in general – tall poppy syndrome is one of the biggest problems facing New Zealand.
You don’t know what these people are going through. And they are just people, facing the same hardships as everyone else in everyday life, arguably more.
Witnessing someone you care about navigate such an onslaught of criticism is heartbreaking.
You might think it would be easy to ignore, but when it’s everywhere, it’s impossible.
I’m not saying there is no place for constructive conversation – but at the point it turns into a character assassination, it’s inhumane.
The ability to rise above the criticism and excel, despite all the backlash, is noble but to stare adversity in the face and come out the other side as a stronger person – like Harry has – is nothing short of inspirational.
We celebrate Harry’s successes, but we also celebrate any time he dropped a ball or missed a kick and worked that much harder to become a better player.
We celebrate his resilience and determination when recovering from two heart surgeries, two shoulder reconstructions, concussions and countless other injuries. Because that’s the pain that spectators see, but they don’t know what happens behind closed doors.
These challenges make the successes even more rewarding. We’ve become a stronger family because of them. And at the end of the day, it’s just a sport.
As a nation we must strive to support and celebrate one another’s achievements rather than diminish them.
Tall poppy syndrome only serves to cut down the spirit and contributions of individuals who push themselves to their limits.
There’s a famous quote from former US President Theodore Roosevelt that resonates in my family:
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
It’s time New Zealand fosters a culture of encouragement and respect, rather than one of relentless criticism.
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