Was it fame? The money? Was it an insatiable pull to the rugby pitch that brought All Black prop Karl Tu'inukuafe back to the game? No, he says it was his family.
Tu'inukuafe takes us for a drive in his 25-year-old Toyota Corona when we meet him at the Blues headquarters in Auckland. In the car park outside their office and gym, you can see that these guys arent doing badly.
Theyre professional rugby players in a country thats mad about the sport and the All Blacks in there, such as Tu'inukuafe, are deemed the best of their generation. But Tu'inukuafes rise to, and grasp of, the black jersey has at times been messy and uncertain.
That he chooses to drive his old Toyota Corona says something about what he values. Hes not much interested in money.
In our interview, for Stuffs podcast about modern masculinity, Hell Be Right, he says hes worried about the materialistic world his young sons are entering.
That materialistic stuff is ruining kids these days... People keep asking about my Toyota Corona, they all think I should be driving a brand-new car. I dont think thats necessary, he says.
You might get a new phone, but youll want a new something else. You end up just wanting things all the time and youre never happy with what youve got. Before rugby I was happy with my security job. And thats what I would want to go back to as well.
Hannah Peters/Getty Images
Karl Tu'inukuafe is an All Black prop, husband and father.
Tu'inukuafe worked as a security guard after finishing high school.
Hed been a promising rugby player at Wesley College, in a first XV that proved to be the starting point for a further three professional players.
After school, however, he needed to find a job. He needed a stable income because he wanted to provide for his kids. At the end of the day, family is all that matters.
Tu'inukuafe recalls, My old man, since I got married at 19, he basically told me like, you got to be a man Take care of your wife and if we have kids, which we do, I gotta take care of them too.
He liked the job. He worked for Auckland Live, got to see some gigs and learnt a bit of music along the way too. But he spent a lot of time behind the desk, and Big Karl as hes affectionately known in rugby circles got bigger.
He was unhealthily big. He had worked to make sure his family could live a good life, but at the same time his lifestyle meant he wouldnt be around much longer.
It was 2014, and Tu'inukuafe says he could barely breathe when he bent down to tie his shoelaces.
I was basically struggling to, you know, go to sleep. Like I could barely tie my shoelaces without getting lightheaded, he recalls. Thats what motivated him to see a doctor, but the news wasnt good. He was told he was on a fast path towards a heart attack.
I just had my son the year before, in 2013, so I was just thinking I didn't want to, you know, die early or not have my wife and son set up if I was to die the next day. So all I was thinking was, I got to do something. And I thought rugby was the easiest thing to go back to.
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Karl Tu'inukuafe is the second heaviest All Black of all time.
Was it easy? Not really.
Tu'inukuafe pushed himself, hard. He went from barely being able to touch the ground, to grounding tries for the All Blacks.
He went from 175kg to 135kg all in just four years.
His weight loss story, and incredible return to rugby, is well known in rugby. Tu'inukuafe is the second heaviest All Black of all time.
But our interview, for Hell Be Right, is about more than numbers and weight loss. It's about more than the game.
Discussion turns to his own sons. Will his values cut through the rest of society trying to impart opposing views of success? And his dad, who taught him to fill what many may see as a fairly traditional role as a father.
His weight, its been both a curse and blessing.
His body requires serious work to stay in shape, keep healthy and thereby keep him alive for his family. Its also what gives him power on the field. And he says his power comes with expectations.
I kind of look intimidating, says Tu'inukuafe. But he doesnt want to be.
He speaks softly, hes a family man. He enjoys chats with his sons, he says he talks to other All Blacks and his teammates at the Blues about how theyre feeling just as much as they talk about training.
Hannah Peters/Getty Images
Karl Tu'inukuafe worked as a security guard, and then got back into rugby.
Things are changing.
The game these days, its important to be vulnerable around these guys that youre going to war with, Tu'inukuafe explains.
Theres a clear clash. Old expectations of staunch men dont fit the bill for Tu'inukuafe and he says rugby players, to be successful, also need to open up. But hes not throwing out the rulebook on masculinity, either. His role as a father is his most important, far exceeding his famed position as an All Black or anything else. And even though hes achieved some of the traditional markers of success, with fame and wealth, hes actively hostile to them.
Listen to the full interview with Karl Tu'inukuafe at stuff.co.nz/hellberight.
Hell Be Right is a podcast about modern masculinity in Aotearoa. Hosts Glenn McConnell, a Stuff reporter and student in Auckland, and former professional rugby player John Daniell in rural Wairarapa meet Kiwis across the country to find out what it means to be a modern man.
They meet rugby players, a Tinder expert, a professor of tikanga and many more incredible men and women along the way.
This series was made with the support of New Zealand On Air.
