Prayers of relief
I would like to begin this week by thanking the large and jolly bouncer on the door at the Mac’s bar on Sunday night.
After realizing at halftime I was unable to take any more of the tension, I had to get out of the bar. I spent the next 40 minutes pacing up and down outside while he fed me a running commentary.
“We’ve got the ball!” That always made me trot to his vantage point, only to see the All Blacks kick it away.
I don’t deal with tense Rugby World Cup knockout games, let alone finals, so when the final whistle went without France sneaking over a drop goal or getting penalty out in front, I dropped down into the nearest chair and said a little prayer.
Wellington did itself proud on Sunday night. The tens of thousands who thronged the waterfront and Courtenay Place after the match were all in good spirits, things ran smoothly, and everyone had a good time.
It’s a stretch to call it a true ‘cultural’ experience, but it showed that if you want an event run properly with a fun (for want of a better word) outcome, Wellington is the event capital of NZ.
Even one as ad hoc as thousands of people jumping in the air and running down Taranaki St was almost choreographed. I was relieved. Everyone else was ecstatically happy, even the French fans, who were jumping on the winner’s bandwagon for the night.
For me, I’m just pleased it is over and we finally got the right result for the first time since 1987. It has been a stressful time – not just on the field. We can now return to news hours that don’t have a third of the time taken up with rugby player’s eating habits, drinking habits, or foot injuries.
The whole extravaganza has been marvellous – a bit like a huge university orientation week for two months. Just when you are starting to feel like doing some work, it’s another All Black game, or a game in your town between two teams you wouldn’t normally watch, and then it’s into recovery mode again for another week.
The script may not have had France in it after week one, but they showed a commitment other teams could not match and turned on a stunning final performance. Of course, I may have felt slightly differently had the result been reversed, but pas de probleme…
Now it’s life back to normal. The Black Caps will take over for a little while before Super 15 starts again, the Phoenix will get a bit more scrutiny than they have received recently, and I won’t have to stay up until 9pm waiting for a kick off.
Sure, like any good party, there will be fall out. The final tab for the whole thing might end up giving us taxpayers a bit of a shock, and I sense an out and out war with the International Rugby Board is about to kick off.
Nonetheless, after that non-stop party, and that marvellous result on Sunday, will we really care? After all, it’s that tiny gold cup that matters. Everything else is incidental.
After realizing at halftime I was unable to take any more of the tension, I had to get out of the bar. I spent the next 40 minutes pacing up and down outside while he fed me a running commentary.
“We’ve got the ball!” That always made me trot to his vantage point, only to see the All Blacks kick it away.
I don’t deal with tense Rugby World Cup knockout games, let alone finals, so when the final whistle went without France sneaking over a drop goal or getting penalty out in front, I dropped down into the nearest chair and said a little prayer.
Wellington did itself proud on Sunday night. The tens of thousands who thronged the waterfront and Courtenay Place after the match were all in good spirits, things ran smoothly, and everyone had a good time.
It’s a stretch to call it a true ‘cultural’ experience, but it showed that if you want an event run properly with a fun (for want of a better word) outcome, Wellington is the event capital of NZ.
Even one as ad hoc as thousands of people jumping in the air and running down Taranaki St was almost choreographed. I was relieved. Everyone else was ecstatically happy, even the French fans, who were jumping on the winner’s bandwagon for the night.
For me, I’m just pleased it is over and we finally got the right result for the first time since 1987. It has been a stressful time – not just on the field. We can now return to news hours that don’t have a third of the time taken up with rugby player’s eating habits, drinking habits, or foot injuries.
The whole extravaganza has been marvellous – a bit like a huge university orientation week for two months. Just when you are starting to feel like doing some work, it’s another All Black game, or a game in your town between two teams you wouldn’t normally watch, and then it’s into recovery mode again for another week.
The script may not have had France in it after week one, but they showed a commitment other teams could not match and turned on a stunning final performance. Of course, I may have felt slightly differently had the result been reversed, but pas de probleme…
Now it’s life back to normal. The Black Caps will take over for a little while before Super 15 starts again, the Phoenix will get a bit more scrutiny than they have received recently, and I won’t have to stay up until 9pm waiting for a kick off.
Sure, like any good party, there will be fall out. The final tab for the whole thing might end up giving us taxpayers a bit of a shock, and I sense an out and out war with the International Rugby Board is about to kick off.
Nonetheless, after that non-stop party, and that marvellous result on Sunday, will we really care? After all, it’s that tiny gold cup that matters. Everything else is incidental.
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