I’d like to interrupt my regular incoherent weekly blog, for the first of two special posts. The first one concerns sport, particularly rugby union, rugby league, football and cricket.

Whether you are aware of it or not; and I do apologise if you already do, but the 2021 Rugby World Cup¹ was hosted by New Zealand, and the final was played on Saturday 12th November, between England and New Zealand, aka the Red Roses and the Black Ferns.

Running parallel to this tournament is the 2021 Rugby League World Cup² which is currently being held in England. Also next year the 2023 FIFA World Cup will be co-hosted between Australia and New Zealand.

Now for those of you that are keeping score, I’ve just named three of my favourite sports, with the exception of cricket.

So what do these three tournaments have got to do with the price of milk and each other? That’s a no brainer, because all three tournaments are for female players. This is important; because I feel at least in my country, we’re at a point where women playing international sport that has been traditionally identified as male, is finally going to get primetime coverage, attention and recognition.

Firstly, the Black Ferns won on Saturday, claiming their 6th World Cup title. Along with England, they put on an amazing display of rugby, that showcases how fantastic the game is to the entire world. My wife, UMC1, UMC2 and myself have watched as many games as possible, and we have not been disappointed. This tournament has lifted the profile of the sport, maybe forever.

The Kiwi Ferns will also be playing England on Monday 14th November at 7.30 pm (local time) in the 2nd semi-final for the Rugby League World Cup. These games I’ve been watching via highlights because of the time zones difference; we’re 13 hours ahead of the United Kingdom. Added to the fact that next year, the best 32 football teams in the world, will travel to Australia and New Zealand to fight for football supremacy.

As a sports fan, a New Zealander, and as a human being, this is phenomenal. Across these codes; and yes, I am including cricket with this, these World Cups were only introduced recently; 1991 for rugby and football, 2000 for rugby league, and 1973 for cricket.

What I’m driving at; and I’m going to sound corny, is that all of these players across these codes; are amazing. Simply amazing. Somewhere along the road, whether it was when they were a girl, teenager or as an adult, these players would have run into obstacles.

They may have been told that they couldn’t play their preferred sport, because it was only played by boys. It could have been they were told to just stick with sports, that are only played by girls, whether at school or at a club level. Maybe they were rejected for being the wrong size, height, or build.

There also could have been the issue of their school or community, not having the resources, staff, management or teams, to run a girls competition in rugby, rugby league, football or cricket. Maybe these players needed to travel hours to another town or city, to fit into a team that could take them in; committing to travel for trainings and games.

Whatever the case, they would have found an obstacle and discovered a way to climb over it, to go around it, and simply, to go through it. To me, sport is sport. You can have team sports like rugby, or individual sports like swimming, that deal in male or female competitions, and that’s fine. However, and it’s what I teach UMC1 and UMC2, there is no such thing as boys sport, or girls sport; there is only sport.

All of these players, regardless of their sport and country are inspirational. They are playing the sport they love; and they are also showing the current and next generation of players and supporters, that sport is for everybody, regardless of your ability and gender. They are role models for girls and boys to support and admire. Seriously, sport is sport.

So what’s next? Well, if you truly believe that sport is sport, you should do something about it. Demand more games from your broadcaster, so you can watch them; attend live games and if the case arises, buy tickets for the games; volunteer your time as a coach; buy merchandise like jerseys or posters; but just do something to support them.

I’ve taken my own advice, because I’ve purchased tickets for the FIFA World Cup next year. UMC1 and I will watch New Zealand (Football Ferns) vs Switzerland in Dunedin and we can’t wait.

Anyway, congratulations to the Black Ferns. Tino pai rawa atu! Damn, I love rugby.

Thanks for reading, go watch some sport, read some banned books, and I’ll see you on Monday for the second special blog.

¹ Thanks COVID-19 for delaying it one year.

² Once again, thanks COVID-19 for delaying it one year.

I try to keep my promises as much as I can, so here’s the nondescript account of my experience of the Dunedin Half Marathon 2022.

The run started at 9.00 am, which meant I woke up without an alarm, near 5.10 am. We’re off to a great start already.

Let’s back up a little shall we? My wife, UMC1 and UMC2 travelled down to Dunedin with me on the Friday, so we could stay for the whole weekend. I’d been saving for a few months for the trip, because we had some child-friendly activities we had planned to do around Dunedin; especially visiting the museum. We are a family of nerds/geeks after all.

We stayed at a hotel, and I’ll be honest; no matter the different places we went to, or the different things that we did with UMC1 and UMC2, the highlight of the trip for them, was the hotel room. We don’t have a television at home, so watching Saturday morning cartoons, was unreal for them; particularly using the remote control. It took both of us to convince them to actually leave the hotel room, because they were having so much fun.

Anyway, after picking up the race pack, and making our plans for Sunday morning, it was time for me to start slowly getting anxious. What a winner.

Like I said at the start, I woke up at 5.10 am on Sunday morning, because we were all sleeping in the same room. I could only listen to UMC1 and UMC2 argue in their sleep for only so long, before I had to get up. Reading news articles and watching video clips about Queen Elizabeth II’s death, at the time seemed like a good idea, like an ejection seat in a helicopter.

After reading and watching an avalanche of information about the Queen, I knew I needed breakfast, however this is a riddle I have never been able to solve. It comes in two parts: what do you eat before a race? and when should you actually eat? I’ll be damned if I know.

Being a very amateur runner, I decided on cereal, toast and yoghurt, because…well, we didn’t have anything else in the unit. After eating, getting changed and packing my bag, I needed to wake everybody else up and the results were not pretty.

After my wife dropped me off near Forsyth Barr Stadium, I followed the stream of positive and intelligent people, that were deliberately going to put themselves through hours of pain. Caledonian Ground was the destination, and after arriving there, things just got real.

There was a sea of people in and around the ground, so I decided to perform my token stretches on the rugby field next door. After embarrassing myself by smothering my legs with vaseline to avoid chafing, I wandered over to the starting line.

As I walked past the elite runners at the front and headed towards the back, I started noticing people. They were ready and I was woefully not ready. The realisation that I was ill prepared for the run, was a horrible thing. A bad diet and a somewhat lack of training is never a great combination; like vodka and swimming.

There was a guy vaping, while he was waiting near me, which did a lot to build my confidence. Oh, I’m sorry, did I say build? What I meant to say was destroy! And before you could say, “Pachycephalosaurus were crazy looking bipedal herbivore dinosaurs”, the race had started.

We headed out towards the industrial area, while trying not to crash into anybody. From there, it was along the water front and out towards the peninsula. And this is where it got weird for me.

I remember passing the 5 km mark, because it was the turning point for the 10 km runners; but from then on, I didn’t see another distance marker until the 18 km mark. It was weird to be actively participating in an distorted example of the Uncertainty principle. I knew how much time had passed, but not my location.

After finally reaching the turning point for the race, I started remembering and listening to my body. I remember my brain convincing my heart, legs, stomach, and everything else, that running in this race was a great idea. On the way back, my brain had absolved itself of any involvement in the decision making process, and was trying to force a confession from some other body part, blaming them for the decision to run. My body was not happy with itself.

On the way back, something very predictable happened; young and older runners started passing me. I found that experience to be soul crushing, especially when I’m running as fast as I can! Eventually I saw the 18 km mark and I realised that my dream time was not going to be achieved. So being the winner that I am, I slipped down to aim for my second dream time.

Running towards the finish line, which was actually a pub, did not have the desired impact for me; I just wanted it to be over. I crossed the line and even though I didn’t get the time that I wanted, I got the time that I needed. I shaved nine minutes off my previous time, though I sound like such a loser, it’s hilarious!

Anyway, the run was not the total disaster I thought it would be, I could even do squats the next day, which was a minor miracle. I showed UMC2 my finisher’s medal and he said it was stupid, because it had no yellow on it. Cheers mate, thanks for the support.

I have another race in a fortnight, but this one is actually local. This means hundreds of people in the community will get to see me fail. I’m a D-List celebrity, so I’m looking forward to people telling me that I suck. Can’t wait.

So that’s it. I’m back to running half marathons, by starting with energy and hope, and ending with despair and misery. Cool. House of the Dragon is now up, so I need to study some more fictional royal family trees. Thanks for reading, walk your dog, read some banned books and I’ll see you next week.

I want to talk about grief, in particular when your favourite team is losing. I’m serious! Anybody that supports a team; no matter the sport, will know the highs and lows of being a supporter.

You believe that supporting the team, helps the players to achieve heroic deeds on the field/court/pitch. You don’t listen to the haters and non-believers that preach insane things like, telling the referee/umpire to open their eyes, will not actually make it happen. “Haters are going to hate”, you say. “My team needs me”, you say.

You’re a staunch supporter, always watching or attending a game, whether you were introduced to the team as a young child or as an adult. Whatever the case, you’re loyal to them. When they win, you share in their glory, reinforcing the amazing belief, that your support of them can actually bend the laws of the universe, and actually make them win. They won because of your support, because you’re part of the team. Search your feelings, you know this to be true.

But there is the other side of the coin. Much like Two-Face’s double headed coin, or with the concept of love, in Jane Austen’s novels and the Brontë sisters’ literature; one side is amazing and beautiful, while the other is twisted and scarred.

When your team loses a game, you can sit down and semi-rationalise the loss. It’s like when you hit or knock your ulnar nerve on the humerus bone; it hurts, but you know you can get over it. Everything will be alright, the team will learn some lessons from the loss, so they can get straight back to winning.

But what happens when they don’t? What if the unthinkable happens and they fall into a losing streak? Fear, doubt and anger start to seep in. However, just like Master Yoda said, “Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”

The truth is this: if you truly support a team, you will end up suffering along the way. That being the case, I thought a guide to understanding your grief may help some people in this. I know what I’m talking about, because I’m an All Blacks supporter¹, so parts of 2021-2022 have been…unpleasant and very uncomfortable.

The Five Stages of Grief: Team Sports Edition

First Stage: Denial

Alright, so my team has lost a game. Who cares! Every team loses at some point during the season. They’re fine.

Sorry, what did you say? They lost again. That’s two games now. Not a problem, they are ironing out some wrinkles in their set plays. They’re fine.

Hmmm….that’s three games they have lost now. It’s still ok, they have had some injuries and travel issues. This is not a slump, it’s a small, tiny, extremely minor bump in the road. They’re fine.

Yes, yes, I saw the game, they lost again. I think that makes it four games now. That referee was an idiot, so technically they didn’t lose, it was stolen from them. They’re fine.

I’m telling you, they’re fine! Losing five games does not mean a losing streak. Seriously, stop talking about it! The players and coaching staff are doing their best, stop talking about them. THEY’RE FINE!

SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! They are not in a slump! I know they have lost six games, but its not their fault! Leave them alone! THEY ARE NOT IN SLUMP! THEY’RE FINE!

Sadly at some point during the season; but try as you may, you can’t deny reality anymore. Whether they have lost two, three, four, or even ten games, whatever the number for whatever fan/supporter, sooner or later, you have to face the reality that your team is losing. You can’t deny this anymore, than you can stop Last Week Tonight from winning Emmys for Outstanding Writing for a Variety Series or Outstanding Variety Talk Series.

Second Stage: Anger

Dammit, what the hell is happening?! You really need someone to blame for this disaster!

Let’s make a list of accountability:

• It’s the players fault: They are not training or focused enough.
• It’s the coaching staff fault: They are not preparing the players well enough.
• It’s the players children’s fault: Their parent is missing the game to attend the child’s birthday. How selfish is that child to want to see their parent on their birthday?
• It’s a player’s new spouse’s fault: How dare they think getting married during the season is a good idea? What? There’s a honeymoon as well? Divorce their arse, right now!
• It’s a player’s pregnant wife/girlfriend fault, for going into labour: What in the nine circles of Dante’s Hell is she thinking, giving birth during the season?! How self-centred can you be?
• It’s a player’s family member fault, that has died: Oh, don’t get me started on that selfish person! They have made this season into all about them!
• It’s the media’s fault: The media keeps writing terrible things about the team; the team reads the terrible things; the team plays terribly; and the cycle repeats.
• It’s the team’s bus driver’s fault: The driver is not providing a ride that allows the team to arrive at the stadium, fully refreshed and ready. They are playing the wrong music and making too many left turns.
• It’s the President’s or Prime Minister’s fault: They are in charge of the whole country, so this means the team’s failures are their fault. Vote them out!
• It’s Climate Change’s fault: Bloody Climate Change! It’s making the weather unstable, so the players can’t play properly.
• It’s Stephen King’s fault: His books are so creepy, that after reading them, the players refuse to go to sleep anymore, because of the nightmares.
• It’s Critical Race Theory’s (CRT) fault: This educational module confuses the players and makes them turn on each other, thus the team performs badly.

There could be one or several reasons why the team has lost their form, but whatever it is, your anger will be directed at one person or several; whether they deserve your criticism or not. If a scapegoat can be found, then everything else will just fix itself. If only…

The problem is no matter how angry you are feeling, the players and coaching staff are feeling it 1,000 times more.

Third Stage: Bargaining

This is an odd one, because you need two things for bargaining: something to bargain and someone to bargain with.

With the former, maybe you’re going to give up drinking beer for a month, if your team starts winning. Or it could giving up smoking; giving more to charity; cleaning the bathroom for six months; changing every nappy for a week; start watching the game in your least favourite chair, attending a game in different seats; creating a swear jar; being less judgmental, cynical, pessimistic, or sarcastic; or maybe it could be to give up watching the games for the rest of the season, if only they could please start winning games!

For the other part, whom are your negotiations directed at? God? Jesus? Allah? Jehovah? Moses? Buddha? Waheguru? Brahma? Vishnu? Gandalf? Captain Planet? Spider-Man? Green Lantern? Goku? Yoda? Spock? Splinter? Aslan? Harry Potter? The Doctor? Neil degrasse Tyson? King Charles III? Elon Musk? Liz Truss? Or maybe any patron saint or god of sport?

Ultimately your bargaining will fall on deaf ears. Why would anybody accept your prayers for your team to start winning again, when there is another person praying for your team to lose; or at the very least, praying for their team to win?

I think God has bigger things to worry about, like fighting against racism and climate change, but also trying to figure out why Sour Cream and Chives were created, than worrying about your team. Sorry.

Fourth Stage: Depression

Depression or the black dog is easy to describe; your beloved team is losing and it hurts. Everywhere people are talking about it: talkback radio, breakfast shows, work places, newspapers, magazines, podcasts….you can’t escape it. Your busy mind is now stuck reliving the defeats, but also wondering what else could happen?

It is such a bleak outlook, when watching people that support the team, slowly turn on them. You try to distract yourself by actually living your life, but the defeats are still there. Always there, following you around like the entity in It Follows; except for the sex, because who can think of sex when your team is losing!

Food has lost it’s beautiful taste, and your beloved sport now feels like it was created to punish those that love it.

You refuse to read or listen to anything about the crisis, until you do by accident, and you wish you hadn’t. Your mind dives deep into the catastrophe, which causes you more torment, which in turn, causes more depression.

Your team is losing, people are laughing at them, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. But it will be alright, this will not last forever, even though it feels like it will. Your team will survive this, and so can you.

Fifth Stage: Acceptance

Having a brutal and honest conversation with yourself is never easy, and acceptance is the worst. When staring at yourself in the mirror, you have to admit: this is not an episode from the Twilight Zone or Black Mirror; it is not a dream from a hateful elder god; it is not a vision from a parallel world; this is real. Your team is losing.

You have accepted a horrible truth, but it’s a truth. And at this point, you realise that all of the negative emotions you have been experiencing, is because of one thing: you still love your team. If you didn’t, you would be indifferent, but you’re not. You still care.

It is very easy to love and support a team when they are winning. It’s more difficult to love and support them when they are losing, but that is exactly what a fan would do.

So after everything, what do you do? Easy, you start wearing your team’s jersey/shirt/uniform in public. You don’t give up on them when it’s hard; that’s when the team needs your support more than ever. People will hassle you for wearing their colours, but let’s face it; haters are always going to hate. Let them.

You love your team. You always have and you always will. Keep the faith and don’t give up on them.

Hopefully this guide will come in handy for someone, because it’s been therapeutic for me to write it. Anyway, my stomach has woken up and I need to search for ice cream. Support your team, walk your dog, read some banned books, and I’ll see you next week with the blog about the Dunedin Half Marathon. I know, I know, you can’t wait to read it, but you’re going to have to. Sorry!

¹ I know it is so cliché for a New Zealander to support the All Blacks, but I’m a product of my environment. But what I am doing to do? Support Australia?!