Like most lads growing up in NZ at the time I played Rugby as a kid. At primary school we charged about in bare feet all through winter skating across thick frost with feet so numb you couldn’t feel them. At intermediate age and for the 1st couple of years of high-school I played club-rugby for Ohaupo.
For one reason or another (mostly alcohol and selfish leisure time pursuits) by the time I left school I just kinda lost interest in getting up early on the weekends, practising in the dark in the cold winter, and sliding about in the mud getting dirty and injured.
And in the decades since I last played a game (actually I did play a few in London in the early 90′s) I just haven’t really felt the tug or need to identify as strongly with a sport that seems to obsess so many that don’t even play the bloody thing.
Don’t get me wrong (actually feel free if you must) but I do love to watch a good test match. I get along to a few NPC and Super-whatevers a season, and I scream and yell along with mates in sheds and lounge-rooms every month or so.
It’s just that… I honestly couldn’t give more than a couple of shits about the All Blacks losing the world cup.
I’m not disappointed in the players especially, I don’t hate the French, I don’t want to kill the ref, I don’t care whether the coaches (whoever they are) resign or get sacked, I don’t care about rotation, etc etc etc…
This now means of course that I will have to wear a titanium-strengthened cod-piece everywhere I go in Hamilton in case I get kicked in the nuts (yes Woody/Vike, I’m on to you!!!).
But so be it. Life goes on for Christ’s sake.