Dashed hopes rats in the toilet of a dream hotel

THE BLACK Caps managed the near impossible in Cape Town. No-one expected anything but, in the first innings, the team somehow found a rung even lower than that.

Like a once-in-a-lifetime holiday, half the pleasure in following sport is in the anticipation, so dashed hopes on the field are rats in the toilet at a dream hotel. Perhaps, because New Zealand fans usually lean to the glass half empty camp before major events when we are totally confident we’ll win, disappointment runs deep and bitter.

Cardiff and the rugby world cup quarterfinal loss in 2007, ground like broken glass into the country’s sporting DNA, is probably the worst but there are shattered dreams in other sports to go with it.

The Kiwis in 1988. League came to Eden Park for a world cup final between the Kiwis and Australia on a wave of goodwill and optimism.

The high hopes. After a shock 13-6 win over Australia in 1987 in Brisbane it was taken as read that on a home track victory was assured. When all 47,363 tickets sold out a $27.50 seat was scalped for $500. To suggest on talkback the Aussies stood a chance was treated like treason.

The reality. By halftime the Kangaroos were up by 21 points, and strolled on to an easy 25-12 win.

‘‘You don’t expect to be up by 21 points at halftime in any senior game of football, let alone a world cup final,’’ helpfully noted Aussie captain Wally Lewis, who probably earned the right to rub some salt in by playing on despite breaking his arm.

The classy aftermath. The Kiwis turned on each other. Some players blamed coach Tony Gordon for a lack of a game plan and spending too much time at haka rehearsal. Gordon bagged players for going the biff early on and had a slap at legend Mark Graham, saying he wasn’t the captain because he ‘‘wants his own way all the time’’.

With hindsight the only bright spot for New Zealand was Graham Brazier performing the most soulful version of the national anthem you’ve ever heard.

The America’s Cup Big Boat challenge. New Zealand’s first shot at the America’s Cup went all the way to the final in Fremantle in 1986, when, in a 12 metre boat, KZ-7, they lost to Dennis Conner. Michael Fay then rocked the yachting world by taking Conner to court and winning the right to sail a huge 130ft single hulled boat.

The high hopes. Initial reaction in New Zealand was euphoric. In 23 years working on commercial breakfast radio the biggest response I’ve ever seen to a contest was when Fay asked Radio Hauraki listeners to nickname the big boat, officially called KZ-1. The winner called it Kiwi Mischief.

The reality. The fun dissolved before they even hit the water in San Deigo late in 88, when Conner announced he would defend in a catamaran, so much quicker than a single hulled yacht, the one-sided racing in the actual challenge was known as ‘‘The Coma off Point Loma’’. Conner said, ‘‘We sailed the cat, somebody else sailed the dog.’’

The classy aftermath. At the final press conference Conner hissed at KZ1 designer Bruce Farr, ‘‘Hey, big boy. You’re full of s.... Get lost. You’re a loser. Get off the stage.’’

Beatrice Faumuina at the 2008 Olympic Games. A world champion discus thrower at 23 in 1997, erratic performances followed but she still hovered in the upper reaches of the world rankings.

The high hopes. While her 68.52 metres at an Oslo meet in 97 was a step above anything else she would throw again, for 14 years Faumuina

Hey, big boy. You’re full of s.... Get lost. You’re a loser. Get off the stage. Dennis Conner

to KZ-1 designer Bruce Farr never had a season where she threw less than 60 metres, and in 2007 she hit 62.20m. In an event as technical as the discus there was a realistic chance all the stars would align and for the first time she might win an Olympic medal.

The reality. In her worst Olympic competition Faumuina threw 57.15m, and failed to qualify for the final.

The classy aftermath. When she met the press Faumuina’s reaction to her performance was surreal.

‘‘To be honest, I had a ball out there – it’s exciting. You can’t take this moment away from me no matter how much you write it off.’’

She then asked if she could fly home early. Chef de mission, Dave Currie, said she would have to pay for her own ticket. ‘‘People support you and you go out and support your mates.’’

On the other hand, how sweet it is when expectations are wildly exceeded.

At the 1960 Olympic Games in Rome a BBC commentator wrote off the chances of an unknown New Zealander, Peter Snell, in his first heat of the 1500m, where only four runners started, by saying, ‘‘This is ridiculous. A four-man field and you can write down the first three names before the race starts.’’

Snell won the heat, and a few days later he won the final too.