Holding his breath to wear the silver fern

Photo by Gerard O'Brien.
Photo by Gerard O'Brien.
It's a sod, but not all we stumblebums are clever enough to wear the silver fern and play for our country.

While my sister once smacked 100 in the back yard at Mum's, there is no immediate family member who has, with fern on beating breast, graced the international stage.

True, there was once an ancient cousin, thrice removed I think, who set foot for the Black Caps on the hallowed turf of Eden Park. (Yes, I know I've told you this before, but it is important).

On that day his team set a test cricket record which, 60 years on, still eludes the game's other greats. They were all out for 26 - the best ever low score. Cousin Tony did his bit for the fern's posterity, but only after some initial messing about. It took him two balls to craft his duck.

The next chap in breezily topped his effort, getting out first ball - for the second time in the match. Only 17 other humans have accomplished a test ''king pair''. No names, no pack drill.

Tony's day is a part of our ''distant family'' history that I hold dear. It sprang to mind with Kyle Lockwood, the flag designer who's had five of his banners chosen for the Final Forty. (His red and blue silver fern flag, with Southern Cross, is John Key's favourite, and mine too).

Kyle has a sporting bloodline. When drawing his flag, Kyle explained, he had reason to ponder the fern's significance, because his dad had proudly worn it for New Zealand underwater hockey.

Huh? At first I thought Kyle was bagging the Great Flag Debate - taking the mickey out of New Zealand's 4.5 million new vexillologists.

But when I checked his claim (it was a wet day and the internet sat begging) I discovered Rongotai College keeps a register of old boys who have honoured the school. There, among Black Sticks, Black Caps, and All Blacks, is the citation: ''Underwater Hockey, Simon Lockwood.''

I know my hockey stuff. There's ice hockey, field hockey and indoor hockey. At boarding school we added dormitory hockey, an all in tourney fought with coat hangers, a Sellotape roll puck, and upturned beds as goalposts. It was primeval.

You may imagine the coat hanger's efficiency when tenderising rumps. It generated impressive bat speed, and oh, the character building joy of shoulder charging a weedier boy into the wall heaters.

Dorm hockey put St Kentigern sportsmanship back a decade. It's why St Kents First XVs remain world beaters. If you believe underwater hockey is a corner to hide wusses, you are poorly informed.

The YouTube match videos are frightening. That swarm of angry tadpoles fighting for the aquarium's last speck of food, is actually two teams of humans in masks and flippers, battling to push a lead puck towards underwater goalposts.

The basic kit is flippers, stick, mask, glove, snorkel, and lungs that let you count to a hundred without breathing. I presume a crotch protector is worn against fouls inflicted whenever the ref has to surface for breath. No shark would dare approach.

I know the ruder readers are giggling at underwater hockey. But hear me out. It is serious stuff. Our under 19s have just honoured the silver fern by winning their age group world champs in Spain. Next year, the women's team pulls up its togs as defending champs in South Africa.

Underwater hockey was a highlight sport at the 2012 World Alternative Games held in the Welsh town of Llanwrtyd Wells.

This international event, which also crowned world champs in gravy wrestling, tug of war, bog snorkelling, and Poohsticks, was funded by a $120,000 grant from the Welsh government.

Meanwhile, up here in Arrowtown, we're trying to raise money for an arts festival. Have we got this all wrong?

John Lapsley is an Arrowtown writer.

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