ABS outclassed
If we want to win the next Rugby World Cup, perhaps we should do it in cars
There’s a lot to moan about when it comes to the Kiwi character, and a lot of it is fair enough. Many of us are terrible drivers, for one thing. Of course, for comparison’s sake, the only other place I’ve ever driven is Australia. My foray into driving there, as a learner driver, came to a swift end when I approached a give way far too fast, generously providing my mother with a palpitation worthy of a defibrillator.
For some reason, the lessons ended after that and I didn’t learn to drive — with Dad — until I was in my mid-20s.
But if anything that proves my point — as far as I know I was the only New Zealander at that intersection and I was by far the worst driver of the lot.
When many New Zealanders get behind the wheel, they become a monstrous version of themselves.
Our shy, deferential, shrinking violet persona morphs into something more akin to a titan arum — the corpse flower — known for its stench of decaying meat.
Too many drivers become Paul Walker from the Fast and Furious franchise. Armed only with a small car, they become altogether sociopathic, driving at 70km/h on a 100km/h road for 50km straight.
When faced with a passing lane, they’re good enough to move to the left, but should you attempt to pass, they finally finds the accelerator and steps on it to 120km/h. Later on, they hit a 50km/h area and, never one to conform, zips through at 60km/ h.
God defend New Zealand. Brings a tear to the eye.
That’s not the only thing. As the sleepy country town of the world, we simply cannot believe it when the rest of the world mentions us. Someone could spill tea in England in the shape of New Zealand and we’d be falling over ourselves with delight that we were finally acknowledged.
It’s demonstrably uncool.
But there is also a lot to like about our national psyche.
When called to action, we — generally — pull together to do it. Think: World wars, nuclear free stance, lockdowns, and collective defenestration of the All Blacks when they lose one test series.
I was gutted to see the All Blacks lose last week. But I got as teary as a farmer with a worn out Swanndri when the Irish won. The Irish were the better, grittier, more determined team. Even in the face of a resuscitated All Blacks in the second half, their defense was fierce and unquivering.
The Irish were the better, grittier, more determined team. . . They wanted it
more, it meant more to them and
they deserved it.
They wanted it more, it meant more to them and they deserved it.
Watching them take the win, effusive in their celebrations, I wondered if the All Blacks’ revelry would have been as fulsome. I genuinely suspect not.
That’s not to say they wouldn’t have been happy about it, but I think it would have been a few notches below Ireland’s joy.
The next day the TAB ran ads that were widely shared online in the Northern Hemisphere.
One, at Wellington Airport, said “You’re a class act, Ireland — see you in France”. Another said “Ah well, at least it wasn’t England”. These ads — and they were ads, not missives from the people of New Zealand — were lauded by overseas commentators saying it spoke to the classiness of the Kiwi character.
They weren’t to know in the weeks before the TAB had run a much more smug part of the campaign, which really hasn’t aged well: “Think the flight was long? Try a 28-year unbeaten streak at Eden Park” and “Four Kiwis [sic] in the team. That might help your odds a little.”
Being self-deprecating and willing to laugh at ourselves is an attribute we should be proud of. I think on the whole, New Zealanders are a classy, good-humoured people.
But if we want to win the Rugby World Cup, perhaps we should do it in cars.
That might finally bring out the dogged ferocity that’s currently lacking.