This will be the last time I talk about the Rugby World Cup.
My Art Friend will be very happy; apparently I have been a pain in the arse to live with the last 6 weeks, not that she would ever say it in such a way. “It” managed to intrude on our Family holiday, encroach on most dinners and events and generally act as a highly effective passion killer.
I am glad the All Blacks didn’t lose, maybe as much as I am that they won. It doesn't bear thinking about the carnage that would have ensued had we lost. The country has dodged a social bullet (golden).
I think the greatest lesson I can take from all this is that we should remain humble and proud to keep our heads down in triumph and defeat. My Grandparents taught me not to count my chickens before they hatched and I approached the weekend with a mixture of pessimism, superstition and trepidation.
Back in 1987 when chips didn’t come in individual packets and Lego came without instructions the win seemed sweeter. Maybe it was the lack of professional pressure and expectation. Less pressure from Sponsors and Media.
The players that stand out for me in this 2011 team are the humble men like McCaw, Thorn and Franks. They seem to hark from a different era. I don’t think it is any small coincidence that they come from Canterbury and were raised on Farms and in Towns where you still listen to your Grand Parents advice.
Let’s hope that this culture remains.