So we went to the SFS to watch the Highlanders play the Waratahs on Saturday night. It was freezing cold and raining, and sadly we had seats in row A – right down the front and not under cover. We did the traditional “sit on some covered seats and hope the rightful ticket-holders have decided it’s too cold to come out” manoeuvre and that worked out well in the end. Luckily the Waratahs aren’t exactly a hot ticket item at the moment.
For the past decade the Highlanders have been at the back of the NZ teams – last year they won only three games - and nobody was expecting anything much from them this year. Nobody, that is, apart from me and David – we keep on supporting them, season after season, in the hope that this year will be different.
And they got off to a surprisingly good start, winning games against much better opposition, so we were mentally booking our tickets to the final and in my case planning a celebratory tattoo. Then the wheels fell off, they lost a couple of must-win games and our chances going into Saturday’s game were mathematical at best.
The Highlanders chose Saturday night to showcase their inability to pass a ball, inability to catch a ball and inability to make up their damned minds what to do with the ball when by some miracle they actually had it. So not the glorious victory we’d hoped for, but hell, they’ll probably finish 8th on the table, so it’s one of their best years in ages.
And once the Super 15 is over it’s the international season, and this year it’s the Rugby World Cup in NZ. Can the All Blacks finally win another Cup? Or are we doomed to choke yet again? [please don’t choke, please don’t choke]
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