I decided to take my less than 3-week-old son to what could be the last game for Manawatu in the premier division.
It was a risk because either a) he could have screamed in distress for the entire 80 minutes, causing his parents much embarrassment and ruining the occasion for those around us; or b) we could have screamed in distress for the entire 80 minutes if the Turbos didn't put on their best show in front of Steve Tew and Jock Hobbs, eating pies in the grandstand.
There is nothing like an external threat to bring a community together and the parochial pride of the Manawatu has strengthened thanks to the "Save the Turbos" campaign.
People were walking off the street and donating $100 towards the campaign spontaneously.
Turbos hooker Sean O'Connor (aka Goldilocks) shaved off his blond shaggy locks for $20,000, and even legendary All Black Colin Meads lent his hand to the cause by signing a whole bunch of NPC jerseys to be auctioned.
This campaign may be hopeless in terms of keeping the Turbos in the premier division, but it has been hopeful in terms of uniting a mishmash of Manawatu supporters and enhancing civil pride.
Who would have thought that the humble bucket would be the symbol of unity in a region? Everyone in the Manawatu is now proud to wear green jerseys, scarves, beanies and buckets.
Aliens landing in the middle of FMG Stadium during a Turbos game would think they'd gate-crashed a Kermit the Frog convention.
Even my son wore green clothing and a green and white blanket to the game.
When did I become one of those passionate, crazed provincial fans?After much reflection, I've realised it is because I am so invested in the team and the game.
I know most of the players and have taught some of them (man, I'm getting old).
I know many of the hardcore bucketheads (students), and the volunteers around the field.
I know the Manawatu Rugby Union staff, and both my partner and I work in rugby to some degree.
Knowing that the Turbos are more than likely going to be relegated to a first division that struggles to catch my imagination or incite enthusiasm is a bit of a downer.
That's why it was great to finish the NPC on such a high.
The sun was shining, the crowd was a healthy size, the banners were out (some were considered a little too inappropriate for the eyes of Steve Tew and Jock Hobbs so were removed at half-time), and the "green and white, keep it tight" brigade were ready for a great match between Manawatu and North Harbour.
In many ways, it was a chance for a little minnow like Manawatu to prove to the NZRU and the bigger fish like North Harbour that we wouldn't go down without a fight.
The first half was less than inspirational from both teams, but whatever Dave Rennie said at half-time worked.
Apparently he confronted his players in the changing rooms and reminded them of what they owed their fans and supporters who had donated time and money to support them during the season.
It was great to see players like Andre Taylor and Rob Foreman step up, and there is something about little general Aaron Cruden that inspires confidence and brilliance in a backline.
I jumped up and down so many times during the second half that a woman behind me became concerned that I might throw my baby up in the air to celebrate.
She needn't have worried.
The baby slept through his first live game (a bit like North Harbour slept through the second half) and despite everyone around him screaming with joy and having a raucous time, he slept contentedly.
He has shown me that life does go on despite rugby, but I will always appreciate having been a part of the Turbos era and I will always enjoy those brief moments where the underdog wins.
I live for moments like Southland winning the Ranfurly Shield after 50 years, and for the Turbos kicking North Harbour back over the bridge.
Cheers to the underdogs of the sporting world.
May they continue to annoy and upset the top dog for years to come.
