Wine in a cave with French Great!
Here’s for a night I’ll never forget, the night I stepped into Philippe Sella’s wine cellar.
For those who don’t know, Philippe Sella is a French rugby great, a legend of the game, especially in France, with 111 Test matches for the national team. He was our managing director at Agen in 2015. He’s a man I respect deeply, not only for his rugby résumé but for the connection he had with the Pasifika boys in our Agen team. He treated us like his own, plenty of fun and great moments, but firm when he needed to be. For us Pasifika boys, Philippe was a father figure away from home.
This particular night came right after something even more memorable: we had just finished playing Mont‑de‑Marsan in the grand final of the Pro D2 competition at a packed Stade Ernest‑Wallon in Toulouse on Sunday 23rd August 2015.
It was a regulation match that sealed the Pro D2 title for us, and with that win, Agen earned promotion to the Top 14 (highest level in French club rugby) for the following season.
After the match, the formalities, and the big celebrations for a couple of days, on the wednesday the whole team gathered for a cold beer in centre‑ville, Agen. The mood was electric. Some of us were staying, others were moving on to other clubs, but that moment, just the team, the city, the history was something special.
During the cheerful evening, I found myself in the company of Philippe Sella. We got talking about wine, one of my great passions and how I was doing online study to learn more about wine, and it turned out it was one of his too.
Out of nowhere, he said to me, “You should come visit my wine cellar tonight.” It was about 7pm. Just like that, no big talk. Just the kind of humble gesture that sticks with you.
His home was right there in the centre of town, just a short walk away from the bar we were at. Later, around 10pm, he insisted. “Bring the Island boys,” he said. “Just you and the Pasifika boys.” He then texted me his address as he made his short walk to his house.
I secretly gathered the boys, Viliame Waqaseduadua, Sione Tau, Jacob Botica, and Api Ratuniyarawa. It felt like a quick huddle on the rugby field. I couldn’t find our other brothers, Viliamu Afatia and Leka. The plan was simple: I’d give the signal, and we’d leave the bar together to share a glass of wine at Philippe Sella’s house. The boys were cheeehoooo‑ing with excitement and were thrilled!
I remember ringing his doorbell, 11pm sharp. He opened the door with a smile and led us straight down into his cellar. No fanfare, just genuine hospitality and a quiet sense of mana. Our first steps down to his wine cellar were exciting; we didn’t know what to expect at the bottom of the stairs. And voilà… Philippe turned on the light, and the grins on our faces were magical. There were bottles everywhere, easily hundreds. We were amazed and felt privileged to be there.
Then came a special moment: Philippe Sella moved around his wine cellar, looking for the bottle we were going to share. We had our phones out, taking photos, the boys were giggling like little kids, so happy, ecstatic, and thrilled to be in his cellar. It was just us boys.
We gathered around the high table we’d been standing at. Philippe set a tray down, placed the glasses on it, and made it feel special. He opened a bottle sealed with a cork. Watching him work the opener felt extra special. The boys went quiet, then pop. He smelled the cork and said, “Smells okay.” He poured a small first glass to check the wine, tasted it, and said, “C’est bon” good to go.
The bottle was a Chateau La Lagune 2000, Haut Medoc Grand Cru Classe
He told us to give it five to ten minutes to open up before we drank. So we used the moment to sing. Led by Viliame Waqaseduadua, the boys slipped into harmony. We didn’t sound like Boyz II Men, but the gesture was beautiful. We sang “Isa Lei,” the Fijian classic, a fitting choice, as some of us wouldn’t see Philippe again once we departed for other clubs. We wanted to make the moment count.
After the song, we tasted the wine. What I remember is its bold, generous body, blackberries, smooth and that was enough. The room settled into a quite full of aroha; it felt like the right way to say goodbye to a great man and a season well won. We finished the bottle. I asked Philippe to sign it, put the date on it and I carried it home.
Today it sits in my cabinet in New Zealand, beside my kids’ sports trophies, small victories next to a big memory. That signed bottle is more than glass and cork; it’s a reminder of humility, hospitality, and the mana of that night with Philippe Sella. Every time I see it, I hear his quiet “c’est bon.” I’ll never forget it.