Whanganui Midweek

Time for some balance in rugby

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“It’s an odd world,” he said, “out of step with itself,” as he sat stooped, gazing sardonical­ly into his beer through overgrown eyebrows and a wildman’s drooping moustache. “It’s all gone soft. I remember back then before the turn of the century, when rugby was played by real men, there was none of this cancelling because of the weather.

When the All Blacks scored through those 12 inches of aquaplaned mud at the Basin Reserve (or was that Athletic park?). Bugger me, it was a long time ago. It was exciting.”

So Typhoon Hagibis deluged Japan. Bit of a let down really, I thought. Opportunit­y lost. I expected the media to love it. Think of the spin fodder, the blood and guts, the torrents and melee of wind and rain, the flying flags and spectators, the law suits, litigation and controvers­y. Yeah, times have changed. Ah well. Rugby men have gone soft and the women have gone hard. Now they protest about the Brits forming a V challengin­g the All Blacks as they performed their haka. Kamate was drowned out by Swing Low Sweet Chariot. Why the whimpering, gentlemen?

I imagine no quarter is given in warfare to Queensbury rules and polite taking of turns when the blood is up. So the British V reached into NZ territory. What affrontery. My heart bleeds. We will probably see the Scots bare their buttocks next time and the Ma¯ ori do the same. Then we can all descend to childhood preschool antics and call each other nasty names. “Time to Prune the Roses” headlined the Weekend Herald. The gloves off, they forgot roses have thorns. Oh how the mighty have fallen. Tut tut.

In 1988 Wellington Repertory Theatre staged The Rugby Poet ,a play written and directed by Charles Harter (maths teacher at Hutt Valley High). As the title suggests, the romantic plot involved a rugby player who wrote poetry. He was a SNAG in the age of rugged men. He was a philosophe­r amongst philistine­s. As a cast member Charles Harter suggested I dress as Biggles for the publicity shoot at the Basin Reserve. A quirky idea maybe, but William Web Ellis is the British lad credited with picking up the football and running with it, thus sparking the traditiona­l game now called rugby. Hark, there is more to life than Rugby if you read beyond lines and lineouts. So what? New Zealand lost its kudos in the rugby world and the media did its damnedest to recapture audience with its vast marketing investment in the World Cup.

Frankly there are more coverage-worthy stories than that game, and news organisati­ons would do well to recognise balance and poise, or risk being red carded.

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 ??  ?? Chris Cape from a 1988 photo shoot for The Rugby Poet. On the Rugged Rugby-Playing Trail
Chris Cape from a 1988 photo shoot for The Rugby Poet. On the Rugged Rugby-Playing Trail

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