![]() His use of Buck Sheldford’s testicles as an allegory/window into our attitudes towards rugby is brilliant, funny, and also, if you’ll forgive me, nuts.) It’s an outrage more people haven’t read it. (Greg Bruce, by the way, writes about this brilliantly in his book, Rugby Head. The idea of masculinity as something dark and impenetrable. Yes, I do think that’s also on male rugby, and the culture it orginally arose from. Stay with it for the next few minutes and see what happens as that brilliant player leaves the field: She smiles. But in the process Stacey Fluhler gets injured. Zip through to 1:29:45 and watch the try Stacey Fluhler sets up for Ayesha Leti-I'iga. Indulge me, if you have the time, and watch this: It is that famous Rugby World Cup final, between the Black Ferns and England. And “special” wasn’t contingent on the result. We were watching something special, and we knew it. Even when the Black Ferns were behind, the crowd remained in a state of elation. Every time I watch it, I smile.īut it wasn’t just in the winning, almost anyone can look happy when they win, it was during the moments when things weren’t going so well that I began to truly appreciate how different this version of my beloved rugby felt. That Joanah had done something almost miraculous. ![]() It took a second to comprehend the Black Ferns had stolen the lineout. Against the odds, against the inevitable, against gravity. Joanah Ngan-Woo, of course, had other ideas. There wasn’t the awful dread that descends over a New Zealand crowd on the rare occasion the All Blacks are in trouble. (They were so brilliant at this, it seemed inevitable.) The crowd was tense, yes, and full of disappointment for the Black Ferns, who’d played so wonderfully, but also, still, celebratory. We all knew, that England would win the lineout, form a maul, drive the ball over, score and win the Cup. When the Black Ferns were leading England in the final of the Rugby World Cup at Eden Park, last November, time almost up, England won a penalty that gave them a lineout in the corner. In part, the revolution is taking place in the grandstands. Sport played by women, with way more women and girls in the crowd, feels different. Of being liberated from the weight we have demanded the All Blacks carry.Īnd what do these two World Cups have in common? That they were both being played by women. I want to say, the same sense of being unbound. what? Delight? Yes, but that’s not sufficient. What’s been happening, since that first special night at Eden Park when New Zealand beat Norway and we were all, suddenly, alive to the sparkle of this tournament, reminds me of what we saw when the women’s Rugby World Cup was held here, last year. FIFA are revolutionary in the same way that Ronald McDonald is a vegan.īut it’s not just football. That it is being led by a FIFA product is truly unexpected. And it occurs to me that we are witnessing a revolution that sport (in this country, anyway) desperately needs. But I’ve been reflecting on how they were different. So, the past seven days began with men’s rugby and ended with women’s football.
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