Journalists David Leggat and Mark Geenty on Day 3 of the 2nd Test match between the Black Caps and Australia in 2016. Photo / Photosport.co.nz
OPINION
In my 40 years as a journalist nothing has felt anywhere near as difficult as writing this because the emotions are still so raw.
A few weeks ago I wished ‘bon voyage’ to my dear friend and longtime fellow New Zealand Herald sportswriter David Leggat as he prepared for a family adventure in Europe.
David and his wife Jacqui Bensemann were traveling with one son and meeting the other in London. This is supposed to be life, anticipation, fresh fields, with the people who mean the most to you.
Now I’m writing a tribute to “Leggo” who died suddenly at the age of 64 while swimming in Lake Como, Italy.
It feels heartbreaking and surreal and the mourners will – I can say with certainty – include much of the sportswriter and media community across New Zealand. Because he was a truly unique and special character, with unforgettable charisma, warmth and charm.
Long a central part of our industry, David Leggat has been the undisputed Elder Statesman in recent years.
He started at the Christchurch Press when a major newspaper still had room for club table tennis coverage, worked for the New Zealand Press Association as sports director and representative in London and held a number of positions with the New Zealand Herald/NZME including sports editor.
Sports readers know him for his coverage of almost everything from his first calling – cricket – to the Commonwealth and Olympic Games, Rugby World Cups and more.
Sportswriters will remember him for his bonhomie, generous manner, endless stories, hallmark of being a champion tourist in the age of long sports tours, scathing criticism with no apparent malice, and natural ability to command humbly, the self-deprecating humor, the general humor, the phrases, the lunch, the afternoon tea, the morning tea.
He influenced so many people but this story really sums him up.
Sports broadcaster Andrew Alderson recalled – with awe – hearing a knock on his hotel door as a nervous newcomer to a New Zealand cricket tour. Leggat – the veteran – went out of his way to ensure the newcomer was aware of the Touring Media dinner and felt welcome. Alderson never forgot this simple but easily overlooked gesture.
My favorite Leggat travel story involved the 2002 Commonwealth Games, which we covered in Manchester.
Leggo ran the company register and for two days I had been living on meager rations until we met so he could hand me a stack of £20 notes.
Within an hour I was licking my lips eagerly at a curry house, only to learn the money was no longer legal tender. Before leaving Auckland, Leggo had apparently taken leftover money from a previous assignment abroad.
I don’t remember his reaction to my desperation and growling stomach, but it might have been something like “sorry about that champ”. He loved the word “champion”.
His own stories lasted much longer than the above, and they could be described as a series of detours expertly cobbled together.
These stories were littered with nicknames like The Knight (Sir Richard Hadlee) or Harry Potter (Daniel Vettori), and his stories took on a special meaning when it came to cricket.
He was raised close to Christchurch cricket royalty – his Test cricketer father Gordon became a National Selector, team manager and chairman of New Zealand Cricket until his death aged just 46.
And yes, fittingly, David Leggat’s memorable work traversed familiar territory, such as a play about the death of Martin Crowe, a scintillating column recounting how the Kiwi legend pranked him on tour, and then remembered a moment that betrayed frustration Crowes often felt he had come off badly as a cricketer.
He could beautifully lament the departure of Bill Lawry from the Australian cricket comment boxes or – as he did in 2016 – give a decent and widely read serve to an Eden Park audience.
However, he didn’t let Cricket block his view.
The files are packed with his stories of athletes big and small, including the first-ever mention in the New Zealand Herald of one Lydia Ko shooting a round of 98 in the national amateur golf course and “jumping down the Titirangi fairways”. like any other seven year old.
Without openly championing the cause of women’s sport, he did so by covering it like everything else. There were stories about Lisa Carrington, Eliza McCartney and so many more. Women’s hockey became something of a treasure for him, and I think the last article he ever submitted to Newsroom was a memoir about the White Ferns.
He loved writing about athletes and as far as I could tell it was mutual.
Journalists also loved working with him, and not just because of the warm experience. He filled large spaces with precision and class and ran the department with similar aplomb.
It was considered “a print editor’s dream,” as one boss put it, being able to have three articles on the go at once — say, a column, a profile, and a news article, all neatly written, on time, while he was still in the office busy conversation was around him.
Leggo mastered the skill of juggling balls in the air with the best of them.
Only those who have held key positions in the news media can understand how difficult that is to achieve on a day-to-day basis.
He was, to put it simply, a full-fledged sportswriter from another era, and his belief that many things deserve at least some coverage survived into a digital age when analysis revealed that wasn’t the case.
I have no idea how to say goodbye to David Leggat, nor will I try.
His spirit will always live on for me.
And that leaves the last word to a veteran sportswriter from an opposing team who – when he heard of his death – reckoned he would always feel so much better in Leggo’s company.
That was his very special gift.
Thanks for sharing it with us all, champion.