There are very few times that your average 'hard as nails' Kiwi bloke will show their emotion. I used to place myself in this category, 'hard as nails'. In the past six months, our national game has not only made me show emotion, it has reduced me to tears three times. Each time displaying a different form of emotion.
Tears of happiness - 23rd October 2011, RWC final. From the moment I got up this day until I heard the final whistle blow, the day was filled with unspeakable tension. I had confidence; the semifinal against Australia had a large part in providing this. But also fear, my boyhood dreams of seeing my national rugby team win a world cup had been shattered before, five times. Two of which came from our upcoming opponents; the French.
My friends told me I was stupid for getting so worked up - "it's just a game!" - I heard on more than one occasion. They were wrong, rugby is more than 'just a game' here, like the phrase at the beginning of this piece, it's a way of life. So when that final whistle blew, my boyhood dream was realised. In sheer elation, tears rolled down my face, I'm sure I'm not the only Kiwi male who had this experience, winning our second world cup has been a dream for a long, long time.
Tears of pain- I had decided to do this a few months earlier if the All Blacks emerged victorious from the world cup, I was going to mark the victory, permanently. The next day I went down to the tattoo shop, design in hand, still filled with joy after the game the night before, and asked my tattooist to etch the ABs logo into my leg, along with the date.
You may recognize the font of '2011' in the picture of my tattoo, it was everywhere and on everything. I chose this font over other standardised fonts to remind myself of the event itself, it meant so much that we had the cup held here in NZ. Although my friend never saw me cry, my eyes welled up a tad, tattoos are supposed to hurt . . .
From 2002 he was the NZRU's chairman and in '05 successfully led a bid for the 2011 Rugby World Cup. When he announced he was stepping down, you could tell how devastated he was, rugby was his life (something I truly empathise with). When you saw him walk out on to the field to present Richie and Mils with their 100th caps, you could tell that the amount of respect the players had for him. Jock Hobbs did more for our game than anyone else, he saved the All Blacks.
On Tuesday when I heard of his passing after his long battle with leukaemia, I wiped away a tear.
I call myself a hard Kiwi bloke, but three times in the past six months, I have physically shown emotion because of our national game. If it wasn't for Jock, not one of those would have happened. We rugby fans owe so much to that man, not everyone knew him personally, but his story has touched so many lives.
Jock leaves behind a family, his wife and four kids, including Michael Hobbs, who has been in top form for the Blues. Today I look down at my tattoo and I don't see a scratch on my leg, I see a legacy, thanks to a man who gave his life for our game.
RIP Jock
- Paul McDonald is a 21-year-old Media and Communications student at the University of Canterbury.