Rise of the unknown Warrior

Wayne Scurrah, new Warriors CEO, surveys his new domain at Ericsson Stadium. Picture / Greg Bowker

So new is Wayne Scurrah to his job that he doesn't know how to find his way down to the pitch at Ericsson Stadium. He has to ask at the reception desk.

He doesn't know, either, that to get off the pitch, you can take a shortcut, up through the players' tunnel. We could have told him this, but he was off - giving us a rare view of a chief executive, running across turf in his nice suit and jacket, tie flying behind him.

This is not a particularly dignified image, but you suspect it is not one Scurrah, the new Warrior's CEO, would be entirely unhappy with. He wouldn't mind being seen as a man in a hurry.

He will be unhappy with me for not calling the team the Vodafone Warriors. He still has seven and a half weeks before he takes up his new job, but he's got the patter down. Ask what he drinks and he says, "Wine, and Lion Red."

He already refers to the Warriors as "we", and said he did so at his job interview. This is clever because it demonstrates economically all those bigger words he likes to use: passion and commitment and challenge. Warriors fans - and management - know all about what "we" means in the context of the club.

He's still, technically, the general manager of North Harbour Stadium but he's spent most of the week at Ericsson. And he's doing the talk brilliantly. Every mention of the Warriors is preceded by the sponsor's name. "Yeah, well, that's the team."

The fans don't call them that, I point out - and he was just a fan until his appointment was announced on Tuesday. He makes a valiant attempt to tell me that he's "often heard the fans" using the name of their sponsor in front of the team name. This is patent nonsense. And he's had his plug. But try stopping him.

"They might not be referring to them as the Vodafone Warriors but hopefully they'll be using the ... network."

He's the consummate salesman and is very good at his job - even before he's started his job. Scurrah likes selling things.

He says: "In my career I've sold hairdressing products, sold events at the stadium, I've sold Tampax, chocolate, paint. And I think I know more about league coming into the job than I did about a lot of my previous jobs. Including pantihose."

This comes across as slightly defensive, although he says he wasn't at all miffed by media questions which amounted to: what the hell does this guy know about league?

He says he doesn't mind the scrutiny. "No, no. It's a good opportunity. I guess it sets me up to be able to prove myself and if I get it wrong the whole world will know about it. Either I'll be moving to Southland and opening a dairy, or I'll be staying in Auckland for a good career with the Vodafone Warriors."

And, by the way, if he is getting a bonus for the number of times he manages to mention a sponsor, he can split it with me.

He played as a young thing, as did his dad. They were, he says, a league family. He also knows about hair. "Yeah, well, I've been asked the question, 'What do you know about league?' And I know that the team with the most points wins and for a CEO that's probably a good start."

He says he'll be staying well away from any advice on what's happening on the field. Given his background in the hair trade, "I might give them some technical advice on hair-styling ... and that's probably as much coaching as I'll give them."

He says he'll be "a low-profile CEO"; that the team are the stars. Which can't help but sound like an implicit criticism of his predecessor, Mick Watson. What he means by low-profile, says Scurrah, is "to respond to the media and be media friendly. And answer any questions but not try to be above my role."

Say that, oh, we've heard all that before, about being media friendly. "Well, I promise you," he says, "you can still talk to me if we come off a 50-point loss and the management perspective of that needs to be questioned."

He's "passionate" about selling things. At this moment he is engaged in selling himself. He is passionate about using the word passion, and vision and, oh, all those words that have infiltrated the corporate workplace like verbal spam. And like most people who use jargon, he denies he does.

He's about to go and talk to the Warriors in 15 minutes and "they'll understand what I mean - trust me," he says. It seems sure that they will because "I'm not giving them a pay rise. We can't afford it."

He seems a friendly, even-tempered sort of bloke and he says he loves playing pranks. He'd "rather not comment" about his past exploits but does tell a yarn about how his team at Schwarzkopf put an ad in the Herald advising of a garage sale at his place - starting at 5am. He was "very amused. And seeking revenge straight away."

But I'm sure he can be pretty strict. Exactly one hour after we sit down in the boardroom, he starts tapping his watch. The last person I saw doing this was a very cross schoolteacher.

The door opens and in bursts the former All Black coach John Hart, now on board the Warriors as an independent director. "Oh, sorry, it's the new CEO," he says. And I say, "He's tapping his watch at me."

"No, he's okay," says Hart.

Tell him he'd better not go around tapping his watch at the players, and he grins a little sheepishly and says, "No, I never do that." It's just that it's almost time for his first talk to the boys. He says he's not nervous - "aah, probably no more nervous than I am talking to you. But it's part of the new role."

But then he says, quickly, that he's not nervous at all. although he was a bit when he faced the media after his appointment.

He says he'll be good at listening to what the fans want, so this seems the moment to give him some direction. Which is: buy some cute guys.

"I'll do my best," he says. "Can't hurt." That's sorted then.

And, despite all that jargon he insists he doesn't spout, Hart is probably on to it: he's okay. Until, of course, the Warriors lose by 50 points. And then, we'll be back to see if he's still being media friendly. He's grinning now. We'll see about that later.