October 12, 2011

The international tournament of the unusually shaped ball





If you aren't in New Zealand, you might not know that we are currently hosting the World Cup of rugby at the moment. Expectations are high that the All Blacks, NZ's rugby team, will win the tournament and see us pick up our second cup since the very first one in 1987.
I'm not one for getting all nationalistic on it or anything, but I have to say I am LOVING the RWC right now. I love the flags on cars, I love the haybales in a Carterton field made into a family of All Black supporters, I love the somewhat fanatical way they're pushing it at Harper's kindy. I even love that he owns an All Blacks' supporter's t-shirt and that I know who the players on it are. I love Piri Weepu kicking off the haka like he thinks sparks are coming from his fingers. I love Conrad Smith who has the same wonky teeth as me. I love that small towns have adopted international teams, like how the Wairarapa district adopted Georgia.

I love going round to Rebecca's or Matt's and eating crap and watching the game. I love that I woke up Harper in the next room from screaming at the telly when Ireland beat Australia. I love that there are loads of players who hail from Tokoroa. I love it and will miss it when it's gone.
I saw a clip the other day of the 1995 final where South Africa, the home team, beat New Zealand. SA captain Francois Pienaar got down on his knees and cried with happiness. I really want that for the All Blacks. Is it strange to say that? The weight of the entire country is with them, but so is our support.

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