Rugby World Cup 2011 - Back in Black

'For the first time in 24 years' the boys in black have brought it home for New Zealand. Go the ALL BLACKS!!!

I'm unsure how I feel about all the drama coming to a close. I'm personally not a rugby fan, but I couldn't help being swept up into the excitement that has infected New Zealand, particularly manifested on the 5km 'fan trail' that leads right by my house on the way to Eden Park. Yes, crossing the road at game time has been difficult for the last 6 weeks, but I've enjoyed hearing the supportive cat calls and leers towards 'the enemy' in a variety of different languages.

Particularly prominent has been the black flags fluttering in the breeze of passing cars and the silver ferns painted on the cheeks of many a fan, child or adult. Random shouts of 'GO THE ALL BLACKS' have been common at all times of the day and night, and supported with eager replies rather than the looks of disdain that would ordinarily be cast towards overzealous fans at any other time. For this has been 'Rugby World Cup 2011' and 'the world is here to play!'

I'm not actually a native kiwi, so last week watching the game between New Zealand and my home country of Australia, I felt a little 'patriotically-confused'. Especially considering the 'friendly rivalry' (ie. 'Aussie bashing') that one receives when living on enemy territory. There's only so many times you can laugh it off the taunts about your accent and the talent of your nation's rugby team before it gets a bit samey.

But despite my inability to sing along to the New Zealand national anthem, I still couldn't help feeling a sense of patriotism last night as the boys brought it home. And only just! As the clock counted down, with the All Blacks leading by only one point and those nibble Frenchies threatening to kick a drop goal and take it all, I felt just as tense as the hundreds of surrounding Kiwis packed into the old man bar with me.

As morning peaked its sunny head above Auckland's sky tower, the streets tell the story of last night's victory. Unlike every other game night, where late night volunteers have worked hard to clear the streets by morning to maintain New Zealand's 'clean and pristine' image, last night pushed the barriers.

Now that it's over, I've got time to ponder the psychology of it all. The nation seems to be in a state of glorious ecstacy. Perfect strangers talking in the streets, honking horns, and shouting fans, so who cares about a bit of temporary rubbish?My question is how long will this national pride last for? And more than that, what would've happened to the national psyche if the French had managed that drop goal and New Zealand had failed once again? (Thankfully, I don't have to imagine.)

Watching the moments after the game, the All Blacks huddled together as one, ruffling each others hair and slapping their behinds, and all that 'man stuff'. United as one. In start contrast, the French stood in isolation, each carrying the weight of failure alone, magnifying its effects. Standing to receive their medals, they did not seem to remember how far they had come to win the silver medal, but what they had lost. Surely an admirable achievement, but to them second may as well have been last. In that respect, I have to wonder if coming third is more joyous, as at least the Aussies exited the tournament with a win.

Go New Zealand! Congratulations on holding it together despite all the injuries and set backs, to deliver the world cup on home turf. I can't imagine the emotions that Richie McCaw must have been feeling when he held the cup aloft.

But I have to part with words of irony. Whose idea was the colour scheme of New Zealand's rugby team? Apart from the fact that it sounds a bit racist (?), it doesn't give the fans much vibrancy to work with. At midnight last night, the darkened streets were packed with thousands of fans, all dressed in black. And to celebrate the victory, Auckland's sky tower was 'lit up' in black against the night sky. Well I imagine it was, I couldn't see it...