Blue-eyed Lions boys call the shots

No 8 Martin Corry attempts to chip on to the green, watched by his playing partner Carroll du Chateau, during the Lions' rest day at the Formosa Country Club at Beachlands. Pictures / Paul Estcourt

It's when they approach the golf balls that you can tell they are professional athletes. The Lions, unlike most of the journalists, line up square.

Their legs planted like tree trunks, solid right through their bodies; their swings are smooth. Most of the time they manage to hit the ball too.

This despite the driving rain, hail and wind that would send most people inside in a flash. As the England captain, Martin Corry, who is nursing a recovering elbow and a couple of still-raw scars on his nose, reminds me, they've left a heatwave back home. This is freezing.

But they battle on, a swarm of blue-eyed, red-jacketed teams of four, chugging along in white golf carts spread out over the entire 18 holes at East Auckland's Formosa Country Club, lunching on muesli bars, bananas and sandwiches, only swearing occasionally when it starts to hail or the ball is swallowed by yet another water hazard.

This is supposed to be a rest day for the Lions, sandwiched between the official Maori welcome in Rotorua and a public training session and more interviews, at North Harbour Stadium.

Today the media, if they're here at all, are here to play golf. Which is how I end up on the end of a driver alongside Corry, halfback Dwayne Peel, Welsh rugby writer Andy Howell and Lions media assistant Ben Wilson.

Despite my obvious rustiness, the Lions are unfailingly polite. As long as my club doesn't hit the ball they allow air shots. They ignore the odd slice, praise the rare sweet moment when the club connects and the ball soars into the howling wind. This doesn't happen often. After a while they delight in pointing me towards the women's tee, which on one hole was level with our team's best shot.

But when we putter towards the warm and inviting club house after six holes, it is just too alluring. Our team shake hands, Corry, in best English fashion, gives me a kiss on the cheek.

Inside it is warm, there's cappuccino, wine and tea. Corry, who is from Tunbridge Wells in Kent, strips to his T-shirt to reveal a chunky chest, and talks about how he had played under our former All Black coach John Mitchell.

He considers Mitchell an excellent coach who gets right alongside his players, really fires them up.

Corry's wife is arriving in a couple of weeks with their 19-month-old daughter, Eve, and he is obviously looking forward to seeing them - but pleased he didn't have to sit next to an energetic toddler in a plane for 22 hours.

By mid-afternoon the rain is still rolling over in ferocious bands.

A bunch of players who finished early, or didn't bother, are upstairs relaxing. A few are sweating it out in the gym, while others try their trigger fingers at target shooting.

As I leave, an optimistic Formosa employee is peeling the cover off a large barbecue.