Six Nations hitches ride on Pacific backpackers
COMMENT OPINION: The Six Nations kicked off at the weekend, that exhilarating, vibrant, tribal melting pot of rugby styles and nationalism. A form of benign racism among the supporters is a celebration rather than a crime, at least for the weekend. And the rugby, although still played to tightly coached modern recipes, at times tips over into something visceral, something played out of the guts of each country.
New Zealand enjoys many beautiful benefits from its global isolation, but the greatest of all rugby nations has always missed not being able to play in a championship as historically rich as the Six Nations. In the early 20th century something like a Pacific Championship between New Zealand, Australia, Fiji, Samoa and Tonga would not have been economically viable. And so the All Blacks had only their great tours for sustenance.
Yes, there is now the Tri Nations or the Quad Countries or the Rugby Championship or whatever it is called. But it was not spawned of humanity. The Rugby Championship was fathered by money and mothered by television. We enjoy the individual matches, but as an organic entity it simply does not exist. The Bledisloe Cup, another squabble between neighbours, means far more.
But the New Zealander is a man who climbs mountains. He is not to be deterred by such an inconvenience as geography. He has decided, if you can’t beat ‘em then join ‘em.
The Six Nations is no longer just a tribal scrap that can get nasty. And having been on a Welsh schoolboy development camp as a teenager and seen the inherited racial hatred of 15 and 16-year-olds, it can get very nasty. No, the Six Nations is now, more than ever, an overseas experience for backpacking Pacific travellers.
And each of the Six Nations is becoming stronger for it. Ireland continue to achieve things that they have never achieved in their history. They dominated France for most of the game in Paris but then fell behind late in the game.
When Ireland was just Ireland, that would have been it. They never came back from the dead in Paris. All that was left was a wake that went on for days.
But this Ireland team has got some Kiwi ruggedness about it. Joe Schmidt has got them thinking their way out of trouble, rather than just reacting. It has always been an All Blacks strength. If you think about where you are and don’t panic, the river will eventually take you out of the bush.
And so Ireland won a precisely placed 22 restart and then went through 41 phases of play. There was no panic. Jonny Sexton has become an even better player for his time in New Zealand on the Lions tour. And there was Bundee Aki, the backpacking New Zealander, carrying the ball up five times in all those phases, but always valuing possession over progress.
This was a victory born in Ireland, but bred in New Zealand.
The Pacific influence now runs through the Six Nations like a salty, turquoise stripe. France have their Fijian wing Virimi Vakatawa and Sebastien Vahaamahina, their giant lock from New Caledonia. Scotland, brought up by Vern Cotter, had Ben Toolis of Australia.
Wales had Hadleigh Parkes at second five-eighth and Italy had Dean Budd, who could just be the title of a New Zealand opera.
And England, their England. The Daily Mail reported of England-born, Scotland-raised Zach Mercer, the son of a New Zealand rugby league international, ‘‘There aren’t many Ma¯ori men who could scream the haka in a broad Yorkshire accent, kiss the red rose on their chest and then say: ‘‘I love the bagpipes - I still listen to them now even though I’m English. It gets me pumped’’.
But then England are now a very hybrid rose. Coached by a cheerful Australian of a Japanese mum, they are captained by a Kiwi, driven on by globe-trotting Tongans and have a New Zealand basher in the centre.
It is such a rich time for English-born talent, that it seems almost unfair to supplement it with Pacific know-how and physique, but I guess New Zealand have been doing some of that for years. Vilimoni Kori, the star of their sevens team at the weekend is the Fijian son of a Fijian sevens star who grew up in Feilding.
The Pacific diaspora is having such an influence on the shrinking world of rugby, that I can one day see a team playing in the top league of French rugby.
They would play island rugby, running the ball for the sheer joy of feeling the sand under their feet, with a kit of black, blue, white gold and red. I already shudder to think how good they can be. And one day they might just play the All Blacks, the machine against the peoples. I hope I live to see the joyful day.