OPINION: We’ve talked a lot about rugby and we’re going to talk a lot more.
As Brodie Kane said to me yesterday - we've gotta celebrate this as long as possible! And we really do.
In times gone by - recently gone by - if I was exposed to quite this much rugby chat I probably would have disengaged.
I’ve always liked rugby but more because of what it represented and that was usually hanging out with my dad.
I remember a lot about the first live game we went to. At the mighty Carisbrook. I was about nine, my sister and I smuggled a beer in for dad under our big coats. We were in the terraces. I saw my first fight - drunk guy keeps knocking into less drunk guy. I saw my first example of police probably going a bit overboard for the circumstances - an officer’s knee on the guys face, smooshing it into the ground while he cuffed him. When they pulled him up his face was all cut up by the gravel. I remember enjoying the game, enjoying cheering for tries but I couldn’t actually tell you who played. Definitely the Highlanders and in the mythology of time I like to think the Hurricanes because Dad and I have a friendly scrap over my split loyalties.
But yeah, my old colleagues in the press gallery would eye roll whenever I was called upon to offer commentary on the rugby or a player. My usual response harked back to Zinzan Brooke, Jonah Lomu or Tana Umaga.
It’s been about that long since rugby players were any kind of real household name for me. Since I really knew who they were, knew about them, understood their strengths and picked them out in a game.
That’s until now. This rugby world cup has changed all that. I know the players by name, I follow them with keen interest on the field, in interviews, I know about their backgrounds. I’m totally invested.
And this time, I’m going to the matches or watching them on telly cause I really, really want to. Not just for a shared experience or bonding with the old man.
Though it was great to receive this text from Dad at about 11 pm on Saturday, he’d been watching from Dunedin - ‘well-done ladies, cats rule. Better than any male game that I have seen in a long time.’
And he’s seen em all.
I don’t know about the comparison with the men’s game - though I’ve heard a lot of people who do know echoing that sentiment from dad.
What I do know is I went to a couple of world cup games with my sister at Eden Park. There were no fights in the stands, no pissed dudes knocking into each other and no police with their knees in drunk peoples’ faces.
Instead, it was sheer exhilaration, joy, excitement, and a fair dose of anxiety when things got hairy, but it was pure positivity.
I mean there were still cries of smash ‘em from the stands - this is still rugby - but when players went off injured on either side, they were roundly celebrated.
I learnt a lot about rugby. I enjoyed the vibe. I loved the competition. I loved celebrating these legendary women. I even thoroughly enjoyed the actual game. Hell, I might even give the blokes another chance after this.
Though Zinzan and the boys definitely have their work cut out for them to bring it like the Black Ferns.
