Five Years After the Christchurch Earthquake, Lancaster Park Is Still Broken and Covered in Weeds

When 41-year-old former All Black Scott Robertson thinks of Lancaster Park, he thinks about how Norm Berryman once made the whole stadium shake.

In a Super Rugby semi-final against the Sharks in 1998, the former Crusaders loose forward—and 23-test international—was running outside Berryman. The try line was beckoning, and the stadium was packed full.

Berryman—a cult hero for the newly formed franchise—was moments away from scoring the match-winning try, earning the Crusaders a spot in their very first Super Rugby final. One of the greatest dynasties in professional rugby was about begin.

"When I was running behind him, I could hear the embankment," Robertson told VICE Sports.

"I could hear the roar—they were jumping. I thought 'holy hell.' It felt, ironically, like an earthquake—can I say that?'

For a long time in Christchurch, or anywhere in New Zealand, mentioning the word 'earthquake' wouldn't get you a second glance. Since February 2011, it has taken on a deeper, more immediate meaning.

On February 22, 2011, Christchurch was rocked by a 6.3 magnitude earthquake. It killed 185 people—the third-worst death toll for a natural disaster in New Zealand history—and caused widespread damage in Christchurch's CBD and eastern suburbs.

Government estimates have since put the total cost of earthquake's damage at around NZ$40 billion.

Continuing after-shocks, drawn-out insurance claim battles and criticism of the government's redevelopment agency have been constant reminders of how much the quake has altered life in Christchurch forever—as has the loss of the city's top sporting facilities.

While Queen Elizabeth II Stadium—which hosted the 1974 Commonwealth Games—suffered major damage during the quake, and was demolished in 2012, it is the resulting disuse and uncertain future of Lancaster Park that has cast the biggest shadow on the famously sports-mad city.

Built for rugby and cricket, the 38,000-seat stadium—also known as Jade or AMI Stadium—was a true cathedral of Kiwi sport. Since opening way back in 1881, the ground played host to some of the New Zealand's most iconic sporting moments.

Countless All Blacks tests. Springbok tour race riots in 1981. The era-defining 1985 Ranfurly Shield match between Canterbury and Auckland. The infamous Super Rugby 'Fog Final' in 2006. Nathan Astle's glorious 222 against England in 2002. Pre-World War I tennis matches featuring legendary Kiwi player Anthony Wilding. The list goes on.

Like all stadiums, Lancaster Park was a place where people came to join together in collective passion; be it for sporting reasons or otherwise. After generations of that kind of activity, the stadium became a cultural touchstone for life in Christchurch, and the wider Canterbury province.

Yet since the quake, not one game of sport has been played on its beloved turf. Located in the suburb of Waltham in the CBD's southeastern corner, it has turned into an eerie reminder of all the things the city has lost since 2011.

"For a lot of people, I reckon that field still is the emotional heart to the Canterbury psyche," Jason Maling, co-founder of Australian artists collective Field Theory, says.

Drone footage of Lancaster Park from last year

In 2014, Field Theory—a collective of Australian artists based out of Melbourne—were granted the first, and only, public access to Lancaster Park since the quake for a stadium broadcast project.

Field Theory bought a caravan onto the ground, and broadcast a 72-hour internet-radio show from inside Lancaster Park. They interviewed Christchurch residents and former athletes about their memories of the stadium, and its importance to the city.

"It's that whole identity forming thing, probably more pre-professional rugby especially," Maling says.

"That era of sports and events was a serious touchstone. A lot of people came in and told us they had the ashes of their loved ones spread on the field. It's hugely important for people."

IT IS rare for natural disasters to knock stadiums out of commission.

New Orleans' Superdome weathered Hurricane Katrina in 2005 and was used to house and protect city residents from the storm.

San Francisco's Candlestick Park—which was eventually closed in 2000—had its stands full and ready for Game 3 of the 1989 World Series when the Loma Prieta Earthquake struck California.

Yet both stadiums suffered relatively minor damage from the disasters. Both were up and running again within a year, whereas Lancaster Park remains unused.

When the quake initially occurred, stadium operator Vbase told the BBC the ground facilities had only "minor repairable structural damage" with damage to the surrounding streets much worse.

But as the stadium was more closely inspected, concerns grew.

Cracks were found in both the Paul Kelly Stand on the western side of the ground and the NZ$60 million Deans Stand, opened just the year before, on the east.

Rugby World Cup organisers for the 2011 New Zealand-based tournament moved seven games—including two quarterfinals—away from Christchurch, while the annual Anzac rugby league test was relocated to the Gold Coast.

The Crusaders would play their entire 2011 Super Rugby season on the road, and remarkably reached the final where they were beaten by the Queensland Reds.

Beyond the immediate loss of top-level sport, worse news was still to come.

In an engineers report to the Christchurch City Council in August 2011, it was found that both the Kelly and Deans stands had dropped up to 40 centimetres, while the historic Hadlee Stand at the stadium's northern end was recommended for demolition.

The Crusaders would move to the far smaller Rugby League Park in Addington, while first-class cricket was temporarily moved to Kaiapoi and Timaru.

Talk shifted to revitalization, and plans draw up calling for Lancaster Park to be torn down—and a new stadium, and sports precinct, to be constructed.

The government announced they would pledge NZ$470 million to a roofed replacement stadium, which they saw as an anchor project for the city rebuild. The target date for its opening was 2017.

Yet save the demolition of the Hadlee Stand in 2012, nothing has happened to Lancaster Park or a potential replacement since the quake.

The hallowed turf of the stadium has browned and died. Weeds have grown, as have deep cracks in the turf. The remaining stands—the Paul Kelly, Deans and (Southern) DB Stand—are cavernously empty.

"There's kind of a ghostly, eerie vacancy to the place," Maling says.

Central to the lack of activity on the future of Lancaster Park and its potential replacement has been the wrangling between the Christchurch city council and its insurers.

According to The Press, the insurers claimed the stadium could be restored for less than NZ$50 million—and said they had three loss adjustment firms to back them up. The council retorted that Lancaster Park—which was insured for NZ$143 million—was beyond repair.

Last December, the council reached a NZ$635 million settlement with its insurers—New Zealand's largest ever—and banked the money three months ago. It is understood that the stadium claim was their biggest, but it is unknown how much is in the kitty.

The council still seems in favour of tearing down the stadium. Last year, they removed Lancaster Park from their list of strategic assets, meaning it can be sold without extensive public consultation—while mayor Lianne Dalziel told The Press in January that the "odds were against it being repaired."

Former Christchurch mayor Garry Moore believes Lancaster Park is salvageable, though.

Moore, who was mayor of the South Island city between 1998 and 2007, advocates a rebuild of the existing stadium—as well as buying up the land around stadium and making it a sports district.

Speaking to VICE Sports, Moore said he had consulted with a top engineer that worked on the building of the Deans Stand who told him it could be cut in half and turned into two stands—as well as "jacked up" at each end to reverse sinkage.

"In my opinion, that's what should be reconsidered. I would rebuild the stadium," Moore says.

"We need to look seriously at whether it is possible to not build this huge bloody monster with a roof on it, that is being proposed in the middle of the city—or to see how much it would cost to fix Lancaster Park."

Christchurch residents seemed to be in agreement with their council, however. A recent survey commissioned by the Canterbury Rugby Union found only 28 per cent of Christchurch residents wanted Lancaster Park repaired.

The survey also found 94 per cent wanted a new sports stadium for the city.

Former All Black Leon Macdonald is amongst that number, favouring a new roofed ground like Dunedin's NZ$200 million Forsyth Barr Stadium, which was opened in 2011.

Macdonald, who grew up in Blenheim, attended his first test as a 17-year-old in 1994, and went on to play over 100 games at Lancaster Park for the All Blacks, Crusaders and Canterbury during his rugby career.

"Given Dunedin has done it and looking at how successful it has been down there, there's no reason why now's not the opportunity to do it properly," he says.

"Put a roof on it, and create something pretty special. There were plans there about putting the stadium in the city, which would be just magnificent."

From speaking to residents during Field Theory's Stadium project, Maling believes a new stadium is inevitable.

"I reckon they'll demo it, and turn it into a kind of memorial park," he says.

"The cost of getting to fixed up is too big. I don't know if they'd even be able to fill the stadium anyway—maybe three times a year, who knows?"

While a council statement to VICE Sports indicated that no decision on Lancaster Park's future was imminent, The Press reported in March that a final report on the stadium's issues is expected to be complete next month.

Until then, Lancaster Park will remain what it has been for the last five years; a tomb for the Canterbury sporting psyche and a reminder that, for all the progress they have made since 2011, the city still carries surface wounds from the quake.

It's likely the last game of rugby or cricket has been played there. There will be no more tries, tackles, wickets or roaring crowds. For the next generation of Christchurch residents, Lancaster Park will just be a ghost. A reminder of another time.

"It would be a terrible shame if they don't—somehow—mark the history of it," Maling says.

"I'm sure they will—because there'd be a public backlash. But the more time that goes by, it's easy to forget just how rich the history was and what occurred on that field."

Eighteen years have passed since Robertson felt the stadium shake, and watch Berryman dive over for the game-winning try.

Berryman's gone now, dying of a heart attack in Perth last year, while the paddock that he tackled, mauled and sweated his heart out is cracked and full of weeds.

He is already conscious that the experiences he had as a player—and what fans gained from it—at Lancaster Park are slipping away. Something, the ex-All Black says, needs to be done.

"You keep driving past, and it's just a reminder," Robertson says.

"We need to move on—and create a place that our kids are really proud of and aspire to get to. The stadium is makeshift at the moment, until we get what we deserve.

"We deserve something that reflects our sporting achievements, that we're really proud of when we go to, and people look at it and think 'geez, look what good has happened from the earthquake."

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