The Bledisloe Cup made its first visit to Brisbane in a decade last week - for rugby union's second city in Australia, that is disgraceful for the biggest game of the year. And don't give me that crap about how England and South African games can possibly compare. Since 1996, Melbourne has had the game twice, and Sydney seven times - plus the World Cup semi.
Of course I support the All Blacks, the Hurricanes and the other Kiwi teams, but I do support the Reds - when they aren't playing Kiwi opposition - because I would like to see the game grow in this part of the world. With no Super 14 coverage on free to air TV and endless AFL coverage, over all three commercial channels no less, it is a bit hard to be a rugby fan here.
Anyways, the ABs won a rather dour encounter, not too much excitement about it, only one try in the match and that was a breakaway, but with a four point margin for over half the match, it was as tense as anything. Could have been more tries, but just too many handling errors.
And what the heck was it with the Wallabies continuing to warm up, using the practise bags, after the haka? And on the haka, what with all the controversy about whether the ABs would do the throat slitting one, I have to admit that it was actually exciting when they did the 'real' haka - I haven't felt that frission of excitement, anticipation, and pure joy to the haka in a long long time.
Anyways, the last time a Bledisloe Cup game was played in Brisbane, ten years ago, the last weekend in July 1996, I was actually in town. Well, flying through on the Thursday and Friday before, on to Singapore, London and two months of Contiki bus touring. I was on the flight that took the Bledisloe across the Tasman, and I held it, had a photo with it, in Wellington airport - teary eyed farewell from the parents for my first big trip overseas, and all I had my eyes on was the Cup.
Not quite perhaps, but it would be funny to embellish that thought into real memory LOL. And then on the plane, sold out full of rugby heads - how did I time my trip to coincide with that? - that ran out of alcohol halfway across the Tasman - for the young ones out there, that was back in the day when alcohol was provided for free on flights, and you actually got a menu that didn't have prices attached, kind of hard to imagine in these low cost airline, charge for everything additional to the actual seat days, of course the fare prices were through the roof but you didn't have sneaky things like taxes or fuel surcharges adding 300% on top of what you thought you were paying...
Anyways, the plane was full of rugby heads, I had a lucky seat draw to win an All Blacks jersey - back in those nostalgic Canterbury before we sold our soul to adidas days - signed by Sean Fitzpatrick. The signature was just in chalk or something, and it rubbed off completely sometime in Europe - after Paris, but before Rome I think.
My mother was saying to me that if I had kept it in mint condition it could be worth a bit nowadays - again, reminiscing, 1996 was before eBay - but Sean Fitzpatrick wasn't my favourite player at the time, so the quicker the signature was gotten rid of, the better. The only thing was, that as soon as he retired, it seemed the ABs lost a lot more matches, maybe that hard nosed, talk to the ref attitude was worth something - although I can't stand George Gregan when he chats for 79 minutes to the referee either.
And what is it with referees and microphones anyway - do we, the audience, actually have to hear them natter away to all and sundry? I long for the old days, when all you heard of the ref was his whistle...
I overnighted in Brisbane, a near airport motel, the connecting flight to Singapore was not until the next day, and this was the first week of the Atlanta Olympics - a few days before, back home, I watched amazed as New Zealand, Danyon Loader, got a swimming gold medal - I would like to see that race again, in the breast stroke I think, because the memory I have of it is that he was about fourth at the final turn before powering in to win the thing. Was simply amazing, because at the time we had not won a swimming gold ever.
Anyways, so the swimming competition from Atlanta was on television the night I stayed in Brisbane ten years ago. If there is anything approaching a national sport in Australia, that unites everyone who loves the summer game or winter football codes, it is swimming - and boy, were they Aussie Aussie Oy Oying when I was watching the box.
Of course, I could have changed the channel, but sport is an easy turn brain off thing to watch, rather than dipping my toes into Australian television of the mid-90s, which, apart from Blue Heelers, I had hardly any experience of.
I could do a whole series of Hotels I Have Been In By Myself if I wanted to - from the overnighting in Brisbane between flights, to Singapore five different languages on television, working up the courage to go out into the hot and humid outdoors, to London, missing my connecting flight back from Belfast, starting to let myself fall apart after ten days of band aiding myself after the disastrous second H trip, to Saskatoon and Vancouver in January, feeling without any direction, the mind numbing coldness outside, the cold numbness inside.
Yeah, Belfast and London I was broken, Saskatoon and Vancouver I was numb. That about best sums it up. And yes, one day I might stop thinking or writing about my Northern Irish experience, but it's not likely to be anytime soon.
I was meaning to keep this on just the one topic, the transit through Brisbane ten years ago, but as usual, my mind sprouted various different thoughts from the one original memory.
More later
Pauly
Of course I support the All Blacks, the Hurricanes and the other Kiwi teams, but I do support the Reds - when they aren't playing Kiwi opposition - because I would like to see the game grow in this part of the world. With no Super 14 coverage on free to air TV and endless AFL coverage, over all three commercial channels no less, it is a bit hard to be a rugby fan here.
Anyways, the ABs won a rather dour encounter, not too much excitement about it, only one try in the match and that was a breakaway, but with a four point margin for over half the match, it was as tense as anything. Could have been more tries, but just too many handling errors.
And what the heck was it with the Wallabies continuing to warm up, using the practise bags, after the haka? And on the haka, what with all the controversy about whether the ABs would do the throat slitting one, I have to admit that it was actually exciting when they did the 'real' haka - I haven't felt that frission of excitement, anticipation, and pure joy to the haka in a long long time.
Anyways, the last time a Bledisloe Cup game was played in Brisbane, ten years ago, the last weekend in July 1996, I was actually in town. Well, flying through on the Thursday and Friday before, on to Singapore, London and two months of Contiki bus touring. I was on the flight that took the Bledisloe across the Tasman, and I held it, had a photo with it, in Wellington airport - teary eyed farewell from the parents for my first big trip overseas, and all I had my eyes on was the Cup.
Not quite perhaps, but it would be funny to embellish that thought into real memory LOL. And then on the plane, sold out full of rugby heads - how did I time my trip to coincide with that? - that ran out of alcohol halfway across the Tasman - for the young ones out there, that was back in the day when alcohol was provided for free on flights, and you actually got a menu that didn't have prices attached, kind of hard to imagine in these low cost airline, charge for everything additional to the actual seat days, of course the fare prices were through the roof but you didn't have sneaky things like taxes or fuel surcharges adding 300% on top of what you thought you were paying...
Anyways, the plane was full of rugby heads, I had a lucky seat draw to win an All Blacks jersey - back in those nostalgic Canterbury before we sold our soul to adidas days - signed by Sean Fitzpatrick. The signature was just in chalk or something, and it rubbed off completely sometime in Europe - after Paris, but before Rome I think.
My mother was saying to me that if I had kept it in mint condition it could be worth a bit nowadays - again, reminiscing, 1996 was before eBay - but Sean Fitzpatrick wasn't my favourite player at the time, so the quicker the signature was gotten rid of, the better. The only thing was, that as soon as he retired, it seemed the ABs lost a lot more matches, maybe that hard nosed, talk to the ref attitude was worth something - although I can't stand George Gregan when he chats for 79 minutes to the referee either.
And what is it with referees and microphones anyway - do we, the audience, actually have to hear them natter away to all and sundry? I long for the old days, when all you heard of the ref was his whistle...
I overnighted in Brisbane, a near airport motel, the connecting flight to Singapore was not until the next day, and this was the first week of the Atlanta Olympics - a few days before, back home, I watched amazed as New Zealand, Danyon Loader, got a swimming gold medal - I would like to see that race again, in the breast stroke I think, because the memory I have of it is that he was about fourth at the final turn before powering in to win the thing. Was simply amazing, because at the time we had not won a swimming gold ever.
Anyways, so the swimming competition from Atlanta was on television the night I stayed in Brisbane ten years ago. If there is anything approaching a national sport in Australia, that unites everyone who loves the summer game or winter football codes, it is swimming - and boy, were they Aussie Aussie Oy Oying when I was watching the box.
Of course, I could have changed the channel, but sport is an easy turn brain off thing to watch, rather than dipping my toes into Australian television of the mid-90s, which, apart from Blue Heelers, I had hardly any experience of.
I could do a whole series of Hotels I Have Been In By Myself if I wanted to - from the overnighting in Brisbane between flights, to Singapore five different languages on television, working up the courage to go out into the hot and humid outdoors, to London, missing my connecting flight back from Belfast, starting to let myself fall apart after ten days of band aiding myself after the disastrous second H trip, to Saskatoon and Vancouver in January, feeling without any direction, the mind numbing coldness outside, the cold numbness inside.
Yeah, Belfast and London I was broken, Saskatoon and Vancouver I was numb. That about best sums it up. And yes, one day I might stop thinking or writing about my Northern Irish experience, but it's not likely to be anytime soon.
I was meaning to keep this on just the one topic, the transit through Brisbane ten years ago, but as usual, my mind sprouted various different thoughts from the one original memory.
More later
Pauly
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