The Rugby

What is it about men and sport? Why are we so addicted? How can the result of a game played by men who are, at the game at least, far superior to the rest of us have such an impact? The book, and subsequent movie – the UK version not the American one - ‘Fever Pitch’ by Nick Hornby is a semi-hilarious look at this phenomenon. And a good insight for all women into the grip sport can have over men.

Every time I watch a game of rugby involving either my domestic team, Otago, or my national team, the All Blacks, I go through the same set of feelings; pre-game nervous anticipation, gut wrenching anxiety and childlike hopefulness. Worry that we’ll lose and hope that we’ll win. Then abject despair if it’s the former or tempered elation if the latter.

Even as I write this it’s apparent that the team and I are intrinsically linked. I’m typing “we’ll win” rather than “they’ll win”. And when “we” do win there’s never that complete and utter joy. We could have always done better.

So on Saturday night I sat at AMI Stadium here in Christchurch and watched one of the worst wins of my life. We were woeful against Six Nations minnows Italy. The All Blacks have a winning record unmatched by any other national team in any other major international sport. They’ve won something like 75% of all their international matches. Yet they continue to let the nation down. Not since the first Rugby World Cup have we been deemed World Champions and now we run out against Italy and scramble through a bumbling effort to win 27-6. Pathetic. Hopeless. Embarrassing. And most importantly not an encouraging sign so close to the Tri-Nations fixtures against the other two rugby supremos Australia and (World Champions) South Africa.

My brother managed to let everyone in earshot know how he felt. Individual players and even some of the lacklustre spectators were offered an array of advice. At one point I offered to buy our first five an air ticket so he could “piss off back to France”. But we had fun. The game wasn’t the try scoring festival it should have been, but Vaughan, his partner Melissa and I had a few beers and enjoyed each other’s company. I got more entertainment from Vaughan’s antics than the All Blacks so I walked away happy. Glad that I’d spent the evening with people I love but saddened to be let down by the team I love. As rugby slips further and further into the realm of entertainment maybe the New Zealand Rugby Union should look to field a side made up of blokes like my brother who can truly entertain rather than a team of 15 who seem to have only mastered the art of looking hopeless.