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Roger Rabbits with |
Can a person be of two faiths?
Can you be both “Proddy” and “Tyke”, as my intolerant old Nana labelled Protestants and Roman Catholics in my intolerant “them and us” hometown?
Without being hauled out, tortured and burned at the stake as a heretic?
Ghastly! Not the way I prefer to go. When my time does come, I simply want the referee to whistle fulltime, pack both my Wahs and Steamers jerseys and shuffle me off to the great after-match function in the sky.
Because two faiths are vying for my soul – rugby union and rugby league. “Multiple religious belonging,” they call it.
I don’t favour one code over the other. Nuh-nuh! Saturday night I turned down a restaurant chicken saagwala because the New Zealand Warriors were on the menu at home – taking on the South Sydney Rabbitohs. A banner at the game proclaimed, “Build a Wah’ll around Bunnies and destroy them”. The Wahs did just that.
Bigger than Tupperware
Then a few ZZZs later, 3am Sunday precisely, I scramble to watch the All Blacks lay waste on the high veldt. It’s a treat watching expectant Springboks fans, the sons of the Boers, weeping tears of disappointment on the infamous and intimidating turf of Ellis Park. More exciting and satisfying than a relaunch of Tupperware.
I was christened into rugby union, worshipped at “The Brook”, Carisbrook, a cold, soulless mud-hole in South Dunedin. That’s where the ABs-Boks rivalry – hostility – began 105 years ago, almost to the day. We beat them that day too! Then I had a shift, not even a conscious shift, from rugby to league.
The Warriors and the NRL nurtured an appreciation for a game that had been pooh-poohed in my hometown. Rugby was always a bit sniffy about league – I sensed it was a class thing.
Liniment and Lion Red
My epiphany happened at another wet mud-hole called Carlaw Park, 1000km to the north. A real “aha” moment. My first rugby league match, midweek, an international and floodlights strobing in driving rain as hundreds of kilograms of cured beef collided head-on.
The smell of liniment blended with spilled Lion Red. Great theatre. You could hear bodies crunching. The sound rattled my bones and shook my allegiances. Gloriously gladiatorial, great theatre.
So I uncluttered the heart to make space for a new love, rugby league. There was room for both rugby and league. They don’t rival each other; they each hold their own precious space. Now, to the point.
A Christchurch bloke, a defensive, fix-viewed rugby fan, recently wrote to a newspaper suggesting league would “never rival rugby”, even though league had just scored a whopping $6.5 billion broadcast war chest to spread the word. League, that bloke decided, was “clutching at straws”.
Flick a sooty bird
League was never intended as a rival, rather an alternative. Once upon a time, rugby wouldn’t allow players who were miners and mill workers to be compensated for time off work to play. So they flicked rugby a sooty bird and started their own game. And here we are today. Their game is thriving.
The numbers are stacked against league, according to “bloke” – rugby has 8.5 million registered players worldwide, league just 300,000. “Yawn!” my friend the Swami responds. Swami because he’s renounced everything worldly except rugby league. “Same tired old tropes.”
Bloke suggested league is only played along coastal Australia, England and only in Auckland is it a major game in Aotearoa. “Umm, look over your shoulder,” the Swami suggested.
He reckons the figures show league is the fastest-growing field sport in Christchurch – because for kids, it’s easy to understand, easy to play and it’s fast, open and exciting. And there’s the Wahs factor. And of course, in a couple of years, Christchurch could be home to the 20th NRL team.
And what about the extraordinary scenes as league fans flooded central Christchurch for the massive pre-match hīkoi ahead of the historic, sell-out match against the Cowboys at One New Zealand stadium?
Drums thrashed, as did the echo of “Up the Wahs!” The Swami was there. He said the Warriors created a game-day experience everyone wanted to be part of.
Jonquils and Steamers
“Even non-league people there said the culture, the noise and atmosphere was quite different to anything experienced at a rugby game. Something else completely.”
Not bigger or better, just wonderfully different. Perhaps because the Warriors are enjoying something magical right now, atop the NRL and on the cusp of something special? Perhaps. Hopefully.
The scaffold seating’s up at the Wharepai Domain. And like the jonquils and daffodils blooming, it’s a sure sign of spring and the Steamers coming home.
I’ll sit in the sun and watch them battle their way out of the middle of the table. Then wander home around a glistening Waikareao estuary to watch the Wahs dick whoever. A double happy. There’s room for both.