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The joy of daring to dream…

There are many things in life that bring me joy; my wonderful family, the beautiful friendships I am blessed to have, and excellent health that happily continues as the years go by. There are, of course, a myriad of other things, only these are smaller and less obvious yet still capable of bringing a smile to my lips and a generous lift in my mood — blue skies and sunshine on a crisp winters day, the sweet serenity of my house when there’s only me in it, finding a pocket of time within the day that I am able to write in peace, and the reason for my post today, the heart-bursting pride and unmitigated elation I always feel swelling in my chest when the All Blacks score an emphatic win.

The All Blacks celebrate their win against Australia 30-14
and the securing of the Bledisloe Cup for another year!

While it’s true that I’ve lived in Australia for more than half of my life and now have an Australian passport, I was born a New Zealander. As such, I still hold a very dear affection for the country of my birth, especially when it comes to what rugby team I barrack for. This is something that many an Australian will rib me about at length, usually with typical good humour although this hasn’t always been the case! It’s a tough one, you see. While I consider myself more or less Australian these days, there are some things that I simply can’t bring myself to do, like cheer for the Wallabies when they’re up against New Zealand. I have ‘All Black Supporter’ ingrained into my psyche, imprinted in my DNA, stencilled on my brain; I just CAN’T go there. Add to that almost-certain excommunication from my family in New Zealand, and you can see the continual dilemma I have, lol.

It’s no surprise, however. All Kiwi children are taught right from birth that rugby is a small but very important part of life in New Zealand. It forms an integral part of the national identity, its citizens taking an immense pride – and with good reason – that their little nation of a mere 4.4 million are able to continually produce a team capable of being the world’s best in the rugby arena. I think back over my childhood years and can recall many instances when I set the alarm for 1am to be in front of the TV with my Dad and my brother. We’d watch the All Blacks play in Europe or the UK in the wee small hours before stumbling back to bed when it was over, tired but glad we were part of the viewing audience. It was what we as a nation did; we supported our Men in Black, no matter what the hour.

It hasn’t changed much since I was a kid, I’m sure. And with the Rugby World Cup being held in New Zealand this year, interest will be higher than ever. There’ll still be young boys kicking a ball around their backyard dreaming of becoming an All Black like their heroes, Dan Carter or Richie McCaw. And like I did, more young girls will grow up learning the difference between a ruck and a maul, will be able to hold their own in any rugby conversation and will love the awesome spectacle of the pre-game Haka just as much as I do.

Ma’a Nonu in full cry during the Haka

God, I love the Haka. It’s a beautiful thing. *g*

Kiwis are a special bunch. We take immense pride in the men who pull on that hallowed All Black jersey, because they represent a unique breed of man; tough, physical and determined; a man who will shed blood, sweat and tears on the paddock for All Black glory and will relish the challenge while he’d doing it. After watching our boys produce a magnificent display of class and skill that totally overwhelmed the Wallabies over the weekend, I know for sure this pride has been well-placed. The average age of the current All Blacks might be 29, but let me tell you, there’s plenty of spring in their step. These boys know their stuff — and they’re not about to let anyone else tell them any different.

So it got me thinking – perhaps I can dare to dream. Could this year be the year that the awesome AB’s will get to put the (ridiculously small) Webb Ellis World Cup silverware in the trophy cabinet? (You’d think a World Cup trophy would be a little bit more impressive, wouldn’t you? Compared to the massive Bledisloe Cup, it’s puny.)

David Kirk, captain of the victorious 1987 All Blacks, holding the Webb Ellis
trophy aloft. This was the last time we won a World Cup. I want to see
Richie McCaw doing the exact same thing this year!

The road to World Cup glory is a long and treacherous one, but we’re heading in the right direction and with great momentum. For 24 obvious (years) reasons New Zealanders are a little reluctant to get ahead of themselves in the fear of jinxing the result, but I have to say I’m feeling good about our chances (albeit very quietly, lol.)

It’s pretty hard not to get excited, though. The thought of a victorious Richie holding that cup up high is one that fills my heart to the BRIM with sheer, unadulterated joy. Go BLACKS. :o)

4 responses to “The joy of daring to dream…”

  1. Neal Avatar

    Sarah, nice to see that you're still supporting the AB's after all these years, I'm with you. GO BLACKS! :o)

  2. What Sarah Did Next Avatar

    Well, it's like this, Neal: you can take the girl out of New Zealand but you can't take the New Zealand out of the girl! I'll be supporting our fabulous boys til the day I die. 😀

  3. Gorgeous Gran Avatar
    Gorgeous Gran

    I'm right with you there – it is part of my DNA as well. GO The Blacks indeed!!!

  4. What Sarah Did Next Avatar

    Hehehe! I'm sure the whole country has a real buzz about now… only a few more days to go until the World Cup starts! 🙂

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About Me

Hi, I’m Sarah!

Former wild-child of the 80’s, classic rock fan and loyal friend to a particularly awesome group of people. Forever planning to write more. Fervently wishes she lived at the beach. Loves the mighty All Blacks. Rather partial to a cheeky glass of red.

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