Munster Christian Cullen Christian Cullen has screeched to a halt. For an instant, his mouth hangs open. Unsure of what to do, he gazes from behind the security cordon at the wall of grinning strangers.
It's a scene that takes in many frames. It is a Take That moment. It is Robbie Williams, flanked by his broadly grinning handlers, Alan Gaffney, Jim Williams, Len Harty and Pat Geraghty, arriving to dance, sing and twinkle in Thomond Park.
It's the clap-happy fizz of the crowd and the dumbstruck way the adults step back to gaze. It is the blue-collar boy arriving in the blue-collar town. It's more red shirt than red carpet.
Four gardaí sweep him across the airport atrium in a driving maul to a red corner of the building that Munster have made their own.
Less than six foot tall, physically unimposing, Cullen lounges back in his chair as parents push their children forward and a growing queue of autograph hunters snakes around the terminal.
Cullen is no Jonah Lomu with his cartoon dimensions and sprigged head. He is no John Eales with his grammar-school propriety and towering frame, or a Brian O'Driscoll, peroxide wisps dancing on his forehead. He's any guy you see on a Sunday morning pushing the pram to the coffee shop. He's your average snooker-hall punter, peaked cap, loose shirt. Spookily ordinary. Zero attitude. No charismatic static to alert the unwashed to his stardom.
Alan Gaffney stands and watches with his arms crossed. A beaming father at the back of the maternity room as the in-laws crowd around to catch the first glimpse of what the Munster family have delivered. "This is the biggest signing in Europe," he says, barely containing his pride.
A journey's end as much as a beginning, the former All Black is fleeing home for a new life, another challenge after a messy divorce with New Zealand rugby and current coach John Mitchell. Words have been exchanged by the two, words so strong that there is little hope of reconciliation.
When Mitchell dropped Cullen, Taine Randall and Jeff Wilson, a triumvirate of rugby gods, he iced them with all the warmth of a professional hit. Mitchell said he did not coach the players. He said he did not "owe them" a phone call.
Cullen hit back and in his biography Christian Cullen, Life On The Run drew blood from Mitchell and his assistant coach Robbie Deans when it landed on New Zealand bookshelves in the middle of the World Cup last month.
"Coming from an All Black coach I think he was a bit of a dick for saying that," said Cullen. "That's like saying everything that has ever been achieved in that jersey before he came along counts for nothing. It's like saying the heritage, the tradition, the winning record. . . everything that Adidas paid $100 million plus to be associated with is worthless. The result of all this is that I didn't trust him. From day one."
Day One. As the rugby development officer for the Manawatu Union, Cullen - who would one day command 268,000 from an All Black contract - was satisfied with his €86 weekly wage and a place to live. It was 1995 and he was 19 years old.
Starring in a New Zealand Schools team that would beat the Australian schools 52-5 and produce nine All Blacks including Lomu, Cullen was already regarded as someone to watch, but not yet special, nothing more than potential. His older brother Shane had been stacked up as the most likely of the two to wear an All Black jersey.
Within 12 months, the shy working-class kid with the fierce work ethic transformed himself into the shy superstar. Dazzling at the 1996 Hong Kong Sevens, Cullen single-handedly led New Zealand to victory. His points tally of 136, including an 18-try haul, obliterated two tournament records and fast-tracked him into the fifteens version of the game.
The 20-year-old then carved his initials deep into the All Black psyche when, after running in three tries in the New Zealand trials, he repeated the feat in his first test, against Samoa.
Early claims of wizardry and a prodigious talent were not left to grow by rumour and when he stepped out for his second ever test against Scotland, his haul increased by another four tries. Over the next seven years, the full back, although personally sparing with words, became one of the main themes in All Black literature.
A serious knee injury in 2001, followed by unimpressive fitness and form in 2002, heralded the beginning of the collapse of his dreams to play for his country in this year's World Cup.
It was in Cardiff in the last test of 2002 that Cullen finally knew he was being swept out. Left off the side to play Wales, he immediately sat downand wrote a note to his manager and friend David Monnery.
The All Black legend spoke of being "pissed off", being "treated like a shit" and being "cracked and broken".
That emotion flowed out of a player who had played 60 games for New Zealand, including a record 58 Tests at full back. He was the All Blacks leading try-scorer in Tests with 46 and he was third on the all-time list.
A career graph that looked like the Wall Street Crash had steeply inclined to a Himalayan peak before falling off into a black hole.
Today, Cork is picture-postcard New Zealand. Cullen throws back an arm towards the window, at the constricting gloom and the menacing fronts of grey drizzle consuming the horizon. Still showing a trace of the broken nose he suffered in an All Black training session in Tauranga in 1999, he's half relaxed, entirely jet lagged.
"Just like home," he says, drawing on a safe analogy. The hurt and anger of his book have softened, the anguish of what many agree was the premature end to his international career seems no longer volcanic. Not quite.
"Yeh, it's the first time I've played outside New Zealand. I'm definitely looking forward to it. I guess my time was up in New Zealand so I suppose that's why I'm looking forward to playing here," he says. "Regrets? No, I've no regrets. I've spent good years there and I realise now that I've moved on. I've better things to do now.
"That's why I've come over here. Yeh, I do think I've got a bit to offer and maybe if they changed the coaches over in New Zealand I might get a look in. But I doubt it.
"It wasn't really a hard decision. It was harder leaving family and friends. Financially as well, not being in the All Blacks is a big pay cut for any player, so . . . we're just rugby players and we don't last forever. We've got to make it while we can. In the end it came around for me quite easy.
"I thought about coming to Munster for a week. Then I decided. I knew then I probably wouldn't play again because of the end of last season, when the All Blacks toured. I knew deep down then that I probably wouldn't make the team, so this year it wasn't a shock to me that I wasn't picked."
At 27, Cullen's departure has coincided with what should be his peak years, and yet he has committed himself to Munster for three years despite former All Black coach John Hart naming him the best full back in Super 12.
In Wellington, where he played his club rugby, the outcry over his leaving was one of disbelief, a common thread being that he was too young to pack away his trademark gliding runs.
Gaffney appears to suspect as much. His personal touch and his briefing of the player about Munster in Auckland earlier this year sold Ireland to Cullen when there was good money from easier rugby to be made in Japan and bigger money in France.
Biarritz were also courting him. In agreeing, Cullen shattered his earlier pre-Mitchell declarations that he would finish his career in New Zealand, partly because he's a working-class boy from the sleepy town of Paekakariki and liked Gaffney's comforting spin on blue-collar Munster.
"Still good enough to play for the All Blacks? Maybe, maybe not," he says. "One of the reasons I came here was because I still believe I've a lot to offer on the footy field.
"I got offers to go to Japan, probably easier rugby, but I wanted to play a pretty good standard.
"When Alan came down to Auckland and we chatted, he made it sound really good and I nearly made a decision then, but my manager ended up flying over and he came back and said 'I thought it was going to be good, but it is better than good.' Everything came together.
"Sure, I suppose that in the end me coming here to play my rugby probably wasn't in the books and I always said I'd finish in New Zealand. But things change . . .
"I can't say I've seen too many Munster games to tell the truth. But you know, I'm hoping I can get a bit of ball and have a crack. Alan told me they want to use the ball a bit more this year, throw it around a bit. Perhaps I can bring that in."
For a player who has built a career around delivering the unexpected, Cullen's self-imposed exile strikes up a new challenge. Brian O'Driscoll now has a celebrity equal in Ireland and Gaffney has a player who, once he gets over his current shoulder injury, can bring uncharted originality to a strong but occasionally predictable side.
One of his father's homespun wisdoms was, when you are knocked down, you get up and you work harder because that is life.
A child in a red shirt is thumped into Cullen's lap and a giant marker produced. A mobile phone is thrust into his face by a local radio station. He looks up. Thirty people are smiling at him, five may want to mother him.
"Sure mate," he says to the four-year-old as his powerful arms delicately scrawl on the back of the Munster top. CHRISTIAN CULLEN.
Name
Christian Cullen
Age
27
Place of birth
New Zealand
International debut
June 7th, 1996
Last Test
November 16th, 2002
Height
5 ft 11 in
Weight
196 lbs (14 st)
Caps
60 All Black
(record 58 caps at full back)
All Black record test try-scorer
46
Super-12 record try-scorer
56
