Goddamn it. GodDAMN it.
Four more long, patient, humble-pie eatin’ years. With a few long weeks ahead surrounded by English workmates sniggering as they come to collect the bets.
Goddamn it.
Last night was tough. Five kiwis in a rowdy Oxford English-laden pub standing next to a crew of Frenchmen. We didn’t stick around long after full time. I think it’s the first time I’ve said yelled ‘fuck’ in front of my girlfriend’s mother. And it was the first syllable I groaned as I woke up this morning. Sorry Annette; I’m sure you understand…
Still, it’s been worse. Of course the record books will show that this was New Zealand’s worst World Cup performance ever, but as I lay there in the dark at 1AM…2AM…3AM…4AM…going over the game, the tactics, the red card, that bastard forward-pass in my head my mind wandered back to the past two decades of World Cup hopes dashed and realised I was taking this one relatively well.
Given the nature of the turnaround, the blinking early morning kickoff, the sobriety and the going to work afterwards, ’99 would have to rate as the worst of the lot. So unbelievable – so unbelievable that it seemed the natural order of things had really been wronged that time – that when a colleague came up to me at work a couple of days later and told me the French team had failed a drugs test and the match would be replayed, I took it hook, line and then some. Bastard. Bastard.
2003 wasn’t so bad. It’s become less painful to lose to Australia since I was a wee lad for some reason. It feels ok. Though having English pals about in Auckland for a year afterwards was only just bearable.
95 I cried. So fucking close. We all cried and swore and got drunk(er), kicked some stuff, threw up, fell down, passed out etc etc.
So it’s been a progression. Maybe not for the All Blacks – in fact, when you look at the results you could almost call that side of things a regression – but for me I seem to be coping (caring?) a little better. Which has gotta be a good thing. I think.
Ah, damn it. Still hurts like a bastard.
Bloody French. Well played, but bloody French.
Matt
If you feel gutted think of the very intelligent forward thinking (not) guy in New Zealand that has had a huge tatoo done on his thigh.
Huge silver fern and words – "Back to back World Cup winners 2007 and 2011"
Indeed. That surely has too be at least a touch worse.
Link to story and photo here.