The game was a lopsided affair, but the night was one to remember. Rugby got the chance to make a match an event, and it took it with both hands.
As usual it tried to rain on Auckland’s parade. It’s like that in the City of Sails in Winter. The rains come in April and move in for the colder months. Even when it’s not raining it’s wet. The old rains sit in puddles and get stuck in the leaves that clog the gutters, it condenses on morning bus windows and echoes in the barks of rheumy coughs. The place is covered in moss and mould by June.
Forget four seasons in one day, it’s just one long season: of damp socks and dripping eves, and the persistent rattle and hum of dehumidifiers.
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It came as no surprise, then, when the first fresh drops fell from skies the shade of boiled steak about four hours before the Super Rugby final was to begin. If you want to really put a dampener on things, plan those things for Auckland in late June. Within the hour the rain was a pestering pox that streaked make up and gave the grass of Eden Park a glistening coat. But even in the damp and the chill and the drizzle, Eden Park looked as good as ever.
Eden Park. I adore its shambling architecture and odd angles, its flagrant rejection of symmetry. I like to think of it as the city’s most enduring Lego set, put together without a manual, and without a care in the world for current design trends. I treasure the memories it’s made for me, the time spent sitting on its terraces or in its stands, in the commentary box or out in the open on afternoons with the kids, making the most of the twenty minutes their attention span would afford me to watch the game.
Forget the debate, Auckland does not need a new stadium, it just needs a crowd. And in the rain andthe cold they came for the Super Rugby final and they made it all worthwhile.
Scotty Stevenson previews the All Blacks squad announcement, and a looks at a great night for Blues fans at Eden Park. (Source: Breakfast)
This is the point that so often gets lost when we talk about the need for something on the waterfront or something in the CBD or something floating in the middle of the harbour, getting in the way of cruise ships and growing barnacles.
It is the people that make these events memorable. Not the place.
And that’s why this was the final you dream of. New Zealand doesn’t do the travelling fan thing. We are home bodies, we stick to our knitting, walk the path of convenience, mind our business. We claim to be tribal but we’re not really, not until we feel threatened.
We’re not accustomed to away fans because we are the bottom dwellers of the sporting world.
It’s a tough sell to the spouse. "Might book a ticket to the game with some friends, love. It’s just over in New Zealand." Good luck getting that past your husband. Or your wife.
Ah, but Saturday we got the lot. They came north from Hamilton and Cambridge and Tauranga and from all the places in between. They drove from Te Aroha and Paeroa and from Te Kuiti and Otorohanga. They filled the seats in between the Blues fans, and brought cowbells and the colours of the Belgian flag.
They were noisy and happy to be there, and the locals were happy to see them because them being there meant they were part of something special, too. That’s what an event is supposed to feel like. It’s supposed to make you feel that you are lucky to be there.
As for the game, well it was a dud if you were a Chiefs fan, and the best thing you’ve witnessed if you support the Blues. They were special on Saturday night, a team that rose to their own occasion.
There were many in the crowd who had never seen a Blues team win a title. There were many in the crowd who had seen them do it three times before. Everyone got a laser show and pyrotechnics and the stadium lights went out and the crowd went “ooooohhhh” like crowds are supposed to when they feel like something interesting is about to happen.
And so it rained, and for a time it poured, but the fans at ground level put on plastic ponchos and let the water fall and those in the covered stands patted themselves on the back for their perspicacity and enjoyed being dry.
And for a couple of hours on a Saturday in June, rugby put on a show, with a little help from the 45,000 fans who turned up to watch.
And on the walk home the rain felt good on my face, and I smiled at the drops in the streetlights. I wiped the water from my glasses, and looked forward to changing my socks.
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