KERRE MCIVOR
“It was another gritty, valiant performance from a team that has undoubtedly won over a new generation of fans.”
Igrew up in a staunchly rugby football household. My grandmother, right up until she died at 99, took a keen interest in every All Blacks match and held strong views about the rotation policy favoured by some All Blacks coaches.
I swear, if she’d been the boss, we’d never have lost a Rugby World Cup. Not while Cherry was in charge.
As a family, we went to support Waikato when they played at home or away, and we used to get up in the middle of the night to watch the All Blacks when they played overseas. Although I inevitably fell asleep before the final whistle, despite the midnight cups of Milo.
We were interested in other sports — Mum and Dad were good golfers and we were members of the squash and tennis clubs — but rugby was pretty much the only game in town. Apart from soccer.
Once a week, the match of the day was screened on Television One. This was in the days before Sky. It was on a Sunday from memory. And to be honest, the game never really appealed. The skies in England were always grey, the game would often end in a nil-all draw which seemed like a lot of effort for no result and my father was derisive about the players’ celebrations if a goal was actually scored.
He didn’t say much, but his contemptuous snort when players lay on top of each other after one of them had kicked the ball into the net told us all we needed to know about soccer. It wasn’t our game.
Until the All Whites came along in the early 80s and their grit and sheer audacity captured the hearts and minds of even our resolutely rugby household.
Who couldn’t marvel at a tiny team of mostly amateur players taking on some of the giants of world football — and beating them at their own game?
Steve Sumner, Ricki Herbert, Wynton Rufer and Grant Turner among others slogged their way to the World Cup in Spain in 1982 and became enshrined in New Zealand’s sporting history.
The New Zealand team travelled more miles than any other in the tournament and went longest without conceding a goal.
They made the World Cup but were drawn in the group of death, and had to play Scotland, the Soviet Union and Brazil to go any further. They were beaten by all three nations and didn’t advance beyond pool play, but in this case it really was the journey and not the destination that mattered.
Since then, I’ve always taken an interest in soccer — or football as it’s known in the rest of the world.
And having a husband from the northern hemisphere means I understand more about the niceties of the game now.
So I have enjoyed watching this All Whites team as they battled to reach the World Cup. They were beaten by Peru 2-0 on Thursday after holding the football-mad nation to a nil-all draw in Wellington last week.
The lead-up to the game in Lima was extraordinary with stories of witchdoctors casting spells on the Kiwi team, local fans letting off fireworks outside the team’s hotel in an attempt to disrupt the players’ sleep and reports of lasers being shined into the eyes of the All Whites players on the pitch.
The All Whites may have lost the game but it was another gritty, valiant performance from a team that has undoubtedly won over a new generation of fans — just as their predecessors won over this die-hard rugby fan all those years ago.