Rugby & a Road Trip North

The New Zealand All Blacks v Canada
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A week after my first rugby match – New Zealand v France in Wellington – I was headed north for my second test match with my Kiwi friend Erica for her first rugby match. It happened to be in Hamilton, an eight hour drive north, only an hour and a half south of Auckland. It’s a sizable town for New Zealand standards, possibly the third largest city in New Zealand, definitely on the North Island. After a long drive, snow on the Desert Road (which isn’t as rare as you might think as that’s where the mountains are), a few tense road trip moments, and some iffy sushi we arrive in Hamilton 45 minutes before kickoff. Getting across town to the stadium was guesswork, but not a major problem. Parking, however, was a major problem. No public lots at a stadium that seats over 20,000 people! At least not that was remotely signposted. We ended up parking 10 minutes away from the stadium in a counseling office’s space. By that point, after driving in circles looking for a spot for over a half hour, we were cutting it really close and decided to take our chances with being towed. I began to trot, not wanting to miss my favorite part, as I heard them announcing the players entry on the sound system, stopping only to check Erika was coming up behind.  It was unclear which entrance to take for our tickets so we tried the first one we saw. After a time wasting search of our bags, we were then redirected to the other side of the stands as they finished the Canadian national anthem. We sprinted to the second entrance during the New Zealand National Anthem, but Erica got stuck once again in security. She had to empty her entire bag as I shifted from one foot to another like a child who needs the potty willing them to let her go. Finally she was through; we passed through the ticket takers, ran up the stairs, flew down the corridor the final stretch as fast as my out of shape lungs and legs would carry me. Finally I gave up on making our seats (Erika already had) and fought for position at the top of the stairs just in time to see the teams facing each other, ready for the Haka.

Intimidation time - the Haka
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The first time I saw this pre-match ritual it was an aside really. I went to the pub with two friends in London. The instigator, the true rugby fan, was a lifetime Springbok supporter despite having left South Africa for England over 20 years before. He brought us along to support his team and give us an ‘education’ in rugby. This was about the same time I was learning football so the match was interesting, but just too much information as I couldn’t possibly learn two sport at the same time. However, the next match on just happened to be New Zealand v somebody so as we were finishing our beers I got my first introduction to New Zealand culture in the form of the Haka. It’s a traditional Maori war dance used to intimidate the enemy into backing down before the battle even began or at least intimidating them into knowing they were going to lose. The Kiwi national team dressed all in black (hence the name All Blacks) has taken on that piece of their heritage and made it their own. Literally; they have their own Haka that was written specifically for them. Each Maori tribe has their own Haka so the team has a few to choose from in their arsenal that they’ve adopted over the years. The entire team, Maori or European descendents alike, line up facing their opponents with the halfway line their only defense. They then proceed to shout, stomp, and slap themselves while widening their eyes and often sticking out their tongues. The description may sound a bit silly and sometimes it does make me giggle, but it honestly is very intimidating especially when you see it the first time. The field is transformed from green grass with white line markings into a field of battle. This dance, for lack of a better term, coupled with the fact that even a diehard South Africa fan admitted that this team was probably the best in the world, made the memory stick with me. When I came to New Zealand I decided to make it my rugby country and set a goal for myself to go to an All Blacks match. Lucky me, I managed two!

Really, you’re probably going, ‘ok, so what’s the big deal? What’s so impressive?’ For me, it’s that I really don’t think you’d get a bunch of American white boys out there doing an African American or Native American tribal dance. If you did, they definitely wouldn’t have the same fluid motion, complete commitment or extreme intensity that every single member of the All Blacks has when they face down their opponents. I think it honestly goes beyond rugby and shows that Maori and European descended race relations here are much more consolidated and from people I’ve talked to, are even continuing to improve as the country includes, if not celebrates the Maori heritage that’s been often overlooked.

I digress. Getting back to the match… Canada was expected to be stomped on. Even in interviews with their coaches the week before, the articles reported the Canadians as looking at it as a learning experience, but doing their best to get under the AB’s skin. Surprise, surprise then that at the end of the 1^st period (quarter) there was less than a try (touch down) separating them. The first half was fairly back and forth, but the second was an all All Blacks show. The Canadians didn’t add a single point to the scoreboard in the entire 40 minute half.

Despite this, the match was more exciting than the Wellington test the week before. I doubt it had much to do with the game being played, but instead I credit being able to see the players themselves instead of just black forms in the distance and the greater excitement feeling included invokes. The crowd was very involved as well giving the entire stadium an intense vibe that Wellington lacked, at least in the seat I occupied. I was also impressive that the Kiwi fans were very polite, even cheering the Canadian player who picked off a pass and ran the entire length of the field to score the try that put them within arm’s reach of the ABs. Who knows, maybe it was shock?

Deep into the second half, however, even the biggest fans were starting to lose interest as the ABs scored again and again without Canada giving them the same challenge. The wave started, just like any other sporting event when the crowd decides to entertain itself. However, the Kiwi’s gave it their own twist. They started flinging their empty green plastic beer bottles into the air in addition to waving their arms and standing up to cheer as it rolled past. First there was just one or two, but then it caught on and travelled around the stadium for several rotations growing in volume each time before people ran out of empty bottles and started throwing their beer itself. It sprayed out of the bottles like a spinning fountain suspended in mid air. Behind the try lines (think end zones) were now littered with light green plastic. Finally an announcer told people to ‘use their common sense,’ which after a few grumbles put an end to it. The match finished not much later.

Erika and I stayed to watch the after match, the rather uneventful presentation of the trophies and the players exiting the field, some signing autographs on the way. Then I was surprised to see new ABs running onto the field like they just realized they were late for kickoff. The National Union names over 30 players to the squad, but only 22 dress for each match. The rest rotate in and out of the bench or replace hurt players. These players and the 7 who didn’t start the match, including their regular captain Richie McCaw, chose sides, donned red mesh practice jerseys, and picked up a nurf screamer for a little run around.  One thing I will say for this team; they manage to have some fun along the way.