Brendan Telfer's place in the Pantheon of New Zealand sports broadcasting is assured, and he will leave a big gap when his Radio Sport tenure ends later this year. Sports editor Hayden Meikle talks to the emeritus of the airwaves.
Brendan Telfer: I grew up in the Hutt Valley and went to St Bernard's College. Never quite made the First XV. It was a very standard boys school in the 1960s. The only sports you could play were rugby and cricket.
HM: Did you come from a sporting family?
BT: My mother had no interest in sport. My father was a keen rugby man and coached one of the local Marist club sides. I joined that club after I left school. Made the Wellington representative side. Under-18, I think. But I decided that year, about 1969, that I wanted to go overseas.
HM: Where did you go?
BT: Africa. The All Blacks were there, so I followed them around for a bit. I spent a couple of years there. Then I had an issue because I met a Chinese woman. We couldn't marry in South Africa because of the apartheid laws. We left the country in a hurry and came back to New Zealand.
HM: Have you been back to Africa since?
BT: I have, but I've never been back to South Africa. I have been meaning to get back since apartheid was abolished. It would be interesting to check out the place now.
HM: Were you the kid listening to the wireless in the middle of the night?
BT: Yeah, I was. I can recall vividly listening to the commentaries of Bob Irvine when he was away with the All Blacks, and the magic of the short-wave static. Cardiff Arms Park, Twickenham, Murrayfield and wherever. The other guy I remember was Lance Cross, who was actually my first boss. He did all of the athletic commentaries from the Olympic and Commonwealth Games during the 1960s. Snell and Davies and Halberg and company. I guess, looking back and feeling all romantic about it, listening to those guys sowed some sort of seed within me to want to be a sports broadcaster.
HM: Did you re-create your own commentaries in the back yard?
BT: I probably did. But it wasn't until later in my years at college that I really thought about it. I lived next to a guy who was an announcer in Wellington on radio and television. I went in one day to have a look at some programmes being broadcast.
HM: Where and when did it all officially start?
BT: I came back from overseas with my South African wife, who subsequently has sadly passed away. We lived in Christchurch, a place I rather like. I got a job with an insurance company. One day, while I was having breakfast and listening to 3ZB, I heard an advertisement for a junior sports commentator. I applied. There were months of auditions. To my surprise, I got the job and joined the New Zealand Broadcasting Corporation, as it was called, in 1973. So, earlier this year, I passed 40 consecutive years in broadcasting. I was with the NZBC, then TV2 or South Pacific Television, before it was amalgamated into TVNZ. I stayed there until the sports department was basically closed down. Then I joined Radio Sport when it started in 1998.
HM: I recall some scepticism, when Radio Sport started, that you could fill the whole day.
BT: Yeah, we all felt that way. I was surprised that people were so optimistic. I assumed we'd have all these reports from the BBC, from the European snooker championships or something. But they wanted local stuff. Commentaries, talkback, interviews. It was a simple kind of formula that had worked well in America.
HM: Talkback radio. Discuss.
BT: There's an unpredictability about talkback, which keeps it stimulating. Yes, you get the odd fruitcake who rings up. The America's Cup and Sonny Bill Williams seem to bring that out of people. I prefer doing interviews but Radio Sport tries to get a good mix. You don't want hour after hour of talkback. But if you do a bit, then do some interviews, then try to elicit some responses, it has a bit of focus and flow. You can expand and develop on what someone has said. And if people ring up and talk on the air, they feel they have a little bit of ownership of the station. Station managers like that.
HM: You're known for your willingness to ask the hard questions. Has that always been your approach?
BT: I've always had an inquisitive mind. Teachers used to say in my school reports that I tended to be dogmatic and argumentative. I do like argument. I never take it personally. When you're interviewing somebody, it is your job to challenge their assertions. If people get a soft ride, it's boring radio. By asking them to justify their point of view, everyone is better off. If you ask sugary questions, you get sugary answers.
HM: Have you ever really got offside with someone?
BT: I think I have over the years. Quite a few. But it doesn't bother me greatly. Most people I've had disagreements with don't take it personally. I had some very strong interviews with Martin Snedden during the players' strike many years ago. Steve Tew, over a host of items. I remember Liza Hunter-Galvan absolutely opened up on me. Not on air. I'd finished the interview and my producer could see she was very agitated. I'd questioned her quite vigorously. She unloaded to my producer what she thought of me, and made it clear she would never be interviewed by me again. I've never rung her, and she's never spoken to me.
HM: Do you get sick of the fluff, the PR spin, the obfuscation that seems so prevalent in modern sport?
BT: There is a lot of that. That's another good thing about talkback. Talkback is about the last bastion of raw, uncensored, honest opinion.
HM: Has sports media changed since you began?
BT: Like everything in sport, there's a lot more aggression than there was in the 1970s. Back then, you had Glenn Turner playing a bit of professional cricket in England, and Bob Charles making some serious money hitting a golf ball. But apart from that, there was no real connection between money and sport. All that has changed. And the legacy of money in sport is aggression. Everybody involved in sport these days seems to me to have an aggressive stance. If you're a CEO, you're aggressive in your sport and aggressive with anyone that criticises you. Journalists and commentators are aggressive and opinionated. Social media is all about aggression and unloading on everyone. It all comes back to the money in sport. And that's not all bad. It's fantastic that people can make livings and careers through sport. I wouldn't change that for the world. But the price to pay is the loss of some gentility from the sport. Aggression is everywhere.
HM: If you could turn back time, would you focus exclusively on radio or exclusively on television?
BT: I've always enjoyed being able to do both. There are some obvious differences but they complement each other very well. I've always liked doing a bit of television and a bit of radio. I had 25 years, basically, of television, and now 15 years of mainly radio with a little bit of television. Moving between the two has never been particularly difficult.
HM: What about the finest form of media? Did newspapers appeal?
BT: I've always enjoyed writing. I wish I had done a lot more. I did an English degree at university and I consider myself a voracious reader.
HM: Favourite sportswriter?
BT: Norman Mailer. Loved him. Boxing was his great passion and his boxing books were wonderful. And I love the English papers.
HM: Did you ever have the opportunity to join Sky TV?
BT: I've done a lot of work for them over the years. When Sky started, TVNZ was a part-owner, so there was constant crossover of commentators. I did a lot of track and field for Sky. Some rugby, too. I've never seriously considered joining Sky and they've never offered me a fulltime position. But even this week, I spent a couple of days with Sky, doing the golf show for Mark Leishman.
HM: So golf and athletics have been the sports you've enjoyed the most?
BT: Those are the two sports I've enjoyed commentating the most. I've had the most experience and connection with those sports. I used to run a few marathons and belong to an athletics club. I don't run any more, because I've got arthritis in one of my knees. But I still play golf every week.
HM: Where do you play?
BT: At the Akarana club, in Auckland. It's only 10 minutes from Queen St.
HM: Handicap?
BT: At the moment, 14.7 or 14.3. I had a brain haemorrhage five years ago. Thankfully, most of my critical faculties recovered well. But I've never been able to get my golf handicap back to single figures. I've spoken to the neurologist and he waffled on about ''spatial awareness''.
HM: What has been the most memorable New Zealand sporting moment you've witnessed?
BT: I'd have to go back to the 1976 Olympics in Montreal. The first was the gold medal in the hockey. And after that, I went to the main stadium with Peter Montgomery and watched John Walker win the gold medal in the 1500m. Watching Walker, with his hair flapping as he powered up that home straight, was just a very special moment. Another gold medal I was there for was Hamish Carter winning gold in the triathlon in Athens.
HM: Are you sad to be leaving Radio Sport?
BT: I'm sad and disappointed. The company wants to take the station in a different direction. To appeal, I presume, to a younger audience. I guess they feel a 62-year-old doesn't necessarily tick all the boxes. There's no bitterness or anger. But there is a certain sadness. It's been such an enjoyable time. The great thing about radio is that you are encouraged to say what you want to say. Bill Francis, my first boss at Radio Sport, said I could say what I liked, but if I said something libellous or abusive, I was on my own. I like that idea. The broadcaster had some responsibility but was also very liberated in terms of expressing opinions.
HM: Any plans?
BT: I want to continue broadcasting. I don't subscribe to this idea that if you spend a lot of time in a job, you become more knowledgeable. You don't so much acquire knowledge, as knowledge acquires you. You become more comfortable with who you are. You don't worry so much about your ego. Some narcissism ebbs away. I feel I can still work well as a sports broadcaster, so it's my intention to continue. Hopefully, someone out there might find a use for me.
