Rarely do I agree with anything Mark Reason says...but...

OPINION: In 1995 Jonah Lomu appeared on the world's television screens. Suddenly blokes who were normally down the allotment digging spuds were wedged into their armchairs. Women rushed home from their book clubs. Lomu wasn't about sport. He was bigger than that. He pushed the boundaries of what a human being was capable of.

Lomu's performance in the '95 World Cup semifinal against England was rugby's moon landing. It was one giant step for mankind. Rugby was no longer seen as a game played in a few former Commonwealth countries and the British public schools. Overnight rugby became sexy because this colossal, young Tongan New Zealander had trampled empire under his hooves.

What a symbol of uprising that first try against England became. Young Tony Underwood, well spoken, born in Malaysia, educated at Cambridge, had been given the job of marking Lomu. It seems extraordinary now, but England had no set plan to stop this athletic freak. So little Underwood, sounding more like a quaint English village than a resistance fighter, was assigned to stop the great march of globalization.
Underwood reached for the tackle and was left face down in the dirt. The first surprising things about Lomu, all 6ft 5inches and 17 stone of him, was the sheer speed of that outside swerve. Underwood was seriously quick, but Lomu took him on the outside with astonishing pace and deception.

Underwood said later, "On that day he became more than just a player, he became the essence of the World Cup."
The next man in the firing line was Will Carling, who epitomised the world's view of English arrogance. Carling was English army background and took privilege for granted, wide chin thrust out at the hoi polloi. Carling got close to Lomu, but only close enough to try an ankle tap.

The second truly surprising thing about Lomu was his balance. Maybe the bigger they are, the harder they fall, but how many times did we see Lomu keep his feet. He was hit so often and from so many angles, yet he very rarely went down. That wasn't because of any clichéd advantage, like a low centre of gravity, it was because he had the balance of a gymnast. Lomu stumbled, but he didn't fall.

The last line of defence was Mike Catt, the English South African.
"I remember him stumbling towards me. I remember thinking there's going to be a bit of a train crash here and recalling the words of my teachers – go low and drive through the tackle. The next thing I remember is lying on my back."
At that point Robin Brooke arrived on the scene, like a Sunday afternoon rubbernecker. He tapped Catt on the face and said, "Mate, there's a lot more of that to come."

There was another 77 minutes to come and rugby changed for ever. Normally an impartial Englishman, much to the disgust of my mates I wore a New Zealand silver fern tie that afternoon. Yes, I was being provocative, but I was also trying to say that the rugby mattered a lot more than the country. Who cared about being English when you could watch Lomu. My allegiance was to his talent.

Before the final South Africa altered their whole game plan just to cope with one player. Bill McLaren would some day say, "It's like trying to tackle a snooker table…Now I'm not a hod man, but if I saw Jonah Lomu running at me I'd be putting down bricks, I'll tell you."

South Africa put down a lot of bricks. The only thing that could stop Lomu on the pitch was a wall. I remember him tossing big Fijians to the grounds as if they were a handful of paper clips. He once carried eight Frenchman to the tryline. These are legendary memories and, unlike most memories, they are not so very exaggerated. Go check out YouTube.

Because that was the thing about Lomu. He was the exaggeration. Was he really just 20 years of age at that World Cup? Lomu really was larger than life. That was the point of awe. He didn't need a nickname. Jonah was all that had to be said.

After that World Cup the game of rugby turned professional. A suave Welshman called Phil Kingsley Jones sold Jonah to the world, but he didn't need selling. In fact Lomu was rather shy and quietly spoken, a whale out of water. He had this great, great gift but it came with a Faustian pact.

Lomu's kidneys were shot. On the pitch he was superman. But once the game was over, Lomu's blood limped round his veins like lead. The world would go out on the lash and tell tales of wonder at his great exploits, while Jonah crept back to his hotel room and fell asleep in an egg sandwich.

You think of Pele and Best, of Bolt and Borg, of Woods and Phelps, and you think of Jonah Lomu. He was one of the seven wonders of the world of modern sport. Lomu gave his life to rugby and he changed the game forever.

- Stuff