Field Theory by Hadyn Green


When last you saw me

When last you saw me I was hunched over a media desk in Eden Park, praying that for 20 minutes we could hold out the French. From what I understand, we did.

Since then, well, sport hasn't held my interest much. For various reasons.

The Superbowl was, as it always is, a chance to watch as many closeted fans of American sport come out of hiding for one day. New Zealand did that thing where we beat Australia in the cricket (I even followed along online). The Aussie open gave us record breaking matches and a new Men's champion to watch and be enamoured with. The Sevens was its usual self; full of colour and fun and alcohol. But nothing really grabbed me or inspired me.

Then this article happened (cached version). It might just be one of the greatest sports stories I've read from New Zealand.

"I asked Beaver how much whitebait he had. When he replied 2kg I said son that's enough to get you in the All Blacks."

It marks something we've never seen before, or at least not for a long time. A retiring coach that isn't trying to defend themselves. Graham, sorry, Sir Graham Henry won the World Cup and hasn't stopped smiling since. Just look at the goddamn shirt he's wearing!

But this line, this line, for me at least, is the clincher.

"[If we had lost the World Cup] I would have been in the south of France smoking marijuana and drinking red wine. I would still have the same woman ... nobody else would have me."

He later goes on to call Quade Cooper a "little prick". And why not? Henry never seemed to actually like the guy, so why fake it? Perhaps a sense of class or sportsmanship would have curtailed that. Fuck class, fuck sportsmanship. Hendog is off to get blazed with his lady in the French countryside. Bad ass.

Henry's constant smiling and open candid nature has reinvigorated me. As has his apparent lack of concern for the generations of dope smokers he might inspire (I'm not sure what demographics see Henry as a role model, but hey, who wouldn't want to hang out in the south of France with a joint?).

Long and the short of it is, I'm back into writing, as it were. Sport and beer and all sorts of other wonderful things will be covered. There'll be few small side projects that I'll bore you with eventually, but generally the happy, breezy, swear-filled tracts that you've come to love and ignore. 

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