When we talk about rugby today, the name of Jonah Lomu inevitably echoes across time and continents. Born on 12 May 1975 and taken far too soon on 18 November 2015, Lomu was not just a rugby player. He was the first – and in many ways remains the only – man capable of transforming this sport into a global phenomenon, of giving it the face of a superstar recognised by anyone, even by those who did not know the rules of the game. His rise, accompanied by dizzying triumphs and personal tragedies, had an almost Shakespearean magnitude, with moments of glory but also inner battles and hidden suffering.
Jonah Tali Lomu was born in Pukekohe, in South Auckland, to parents from the Haʻapai islands of Tonga. His childhood was marked by the harsh environment of South Auckland’s suburbs, where gang violence was part of everyday life. It was his mother who nurtured his interest in sport, sending him to Wesley College in the hope of a better life. From a young age, Lomu stood out thanks to a remarkable physical maturity: at 12 he could easily have passed for an 18-year-old. Fast and powerful, he proved his abilities in athletics, but above all on the rugby pitch, where he first played as a lock and then as a flanker, intimidating his peers.
His international debut came like a bolt of lightning. At just 19 years and 45 days, Jonah became the youngest All Black in history, taking the field in 1994 on the left wing against France. It was a promising appearance, though not without flaws: inexperience and nerves betrayed him in key moments, including the famous French score known as “the try from the end of the world”, produced at Eden Park. Yet coach Laurie Mains continued to believe in him. The reasons were obvious: at 6 ft 5 in and nearly 120 kilograms, Lomu could run 100 metres in under 11 seconds. In an era when wingers were usually slight and nimble, he was an anomaly, a weapon of devastating potential.
And so it proved. The moment that turned him into a household name across the globe came in 1995, at the Rugby World Cup in South Africa. He had already made an impression against Ireland, but the semi-final against England went down in history. That afternoon, Lomu scored four tries, including the legendary one: a 60-metre burst, blasting past two defenders before literally trampling over the unfortunate full-back Mike Catt. Commentator Keith Quinn almost lost his voice with excitement, and the world realised that before them was not just a rugby player, but a force of nature.
The impact was seismic. Media magnate Rupert Murdoch famously ordered his aides to “get that guy” for a television project. Within months SANZAR was born, the alliance between South Africa, New Zealand and Australia that laid the foundations for the Tri Nations and the Super 12 – the very bedrock of professional rugby. In the most concrete sense, Lomu’s success was the catalyst that carried rugby from the amateur era into the modern age.
The years that followed were a blend of triumph and tragedy. On the pitch, Jonah remained a colossus. At the 1999 World Cup he scored eight tries, adding to the seven he had managed in 1995 and reaching a total of 15 – a tournament record later equalled by Bryan Habana. At the same time, his health was beginning to show worrying signs. The diagnosis of nephrotic syndrome, a serious kidney condition, became public in 1996. Even so, he continued to play and to amaze. In 2000, before 110,000 spectators at Sydney’s Olympic Stadium, he scored a decisive try in the 80th minute against the Wallabies in what would be remembered as “the match of the century”.
But the illness stalked him. By 2003 he required dialysis three times a week. In 2004 he underwent a kidney transplant that allowed him to return sporadically to the game, though never at the legendary level of the ’90s. His international career had already ended in 2002, at only 27 years of age, with 63 caps and 37 tries – figures that in 2015 still kept him sixth on the All Blacks’ all-time list.
Alongside the New Zealand national team, Lomu played Super 12 rugby for the Blues, Chiefs and Hurricanes, as well as in Europe for Cardiff Blues and Marseille. Curiously, because of his medical problems, he actually earned more international caps (63) than Super Rugby appearances (59) – a paradox for a man who lifted crowds to their feet wherever he went.
Off the field, Jonah became a cultural icon, especially for Polynesian and Pasifika communities. He was a global star but remained a modest, generous man, often paying the bills of childhood friends and always giving his time to fans for autographs and photos. He worked with major global brands – McDonald’s, adidas, Reebok, Heineken – yet money, as he admitted, was never his priority. He even turned down a huge contract offer from the Dallas Cowboys, choosing instead to remain faithful to rugby and the black jersey of the All Blacks. “I just want to play with my mates, I want to wear this jersey for as long as I can,” he once said.
For these qualities he was officially recognised: in 2003 he was made a Member of the New Zealand Order of Merit, and in 2007 he was inducted into the International Rugby Hall of Fame, followed in 2011 by the World Rugby Hall of Fame.
Beyond the numbers and honours, what made him unique was the improbable combination of brute strength and graceful movement. Nicknamed “the freight train in ballet shoes”, Jonah managed to blend blistering speed with devastating impact and an uncanny ability to evade tackles. In a sport defined by physical confrontation, he rewrote the rules of the game. Coaches, opponents and former teammates alike admit that his presence forced teams to rethink their defensive strategies. Joel Stransky, the former South African fly-half, confessed that simply facing him was more stressful than any other challenge. Brendan Venter, a defensive specialist, recalled being literally run over by Lomu in a tackle, left with the bitter memory of how impossible it was to stop him.
Sadly, Jonah’s story ended abruptly. On 18 November 2015, at just 40 years old, he died in Auckland following a heart attack linked to his kidney condition. The reactions were overwhelming. The Argentinian team took the field wearing number 11 jerseys. Tens of thousands gathered at Eden Park for a memorial service. Queen Elizabeth II and the New Zealand Parliament sent condolences, and children from his primary school performed a haka in his honour.
His legacy goes far beyond the rugby field. He inspired generations of athletes – from Julian Savea to Billy Vunipola – and gave an entire Tongan and Pacific Island community a deep sense of pride. “We don’t know anything about rugby, but we know who Jonah Lomu is,” people would say from the most distant corners of the world. That made him an ambassador of the sport, a global star compared with Muhammad Ali, Don Bradman or Tiger Woods.
Today, as rugby continues to search for its next superstar, the figure of Lomu remains unrivalled. And perhaps the most precious thing he left behind was not the chaos he caused on the pitch, but the way he treated people off it. He was feared by opponents, but loved by everyone else. He was, at the same time, a colossus on the field and a simple man with a huge heart.
Jonah Lomu never won a Rugby World Cup, but he achieved something rarer: he won the whole world.
Photo sourced from www.roxboroghreport.com
By Honor Et Patria/ Eduard Popiea