I have to write about the test match in its own space, it was an event that deserves the limelight. As previously discussed I am not a die hard fan but I love the nationalism, the competition and an exciting game. WH is in his element.
We catch the train with the tens of thousands but it’s all pretty easy. We even get a seat. Follow the herds at Twickenham and meet up with WH brother. There seems to be a lot of Black about and the mood is friendly all round. Time is spent people watching and eating a German sausage as we wait for an excited kiwi girl currently OEing in London who has scored spare tickets to the game but underestimated the time it takes to get there.
With tickets handed over we head to the game only to meet with the solid people block at security and as dark storm clouds gather it feels as though it may take forever. It doesn’t. We are customarily wand waved and checked for contraband and ushered on through just as the first of the rain starts to fall. A Guinness is acquired and as the rain really starts to make its presence felt we make it to our seats breathing a sigh of relief that they are undercover.
It is now that I notice that our little pocket of black, tucked into corner is minuscule. We are merely dots in a crowd of 82,257 and the anthems prove it. The kiwis bluster there way through the Maori version of the anthem, without the words on the big screen the demographic of the kiwi supporters mean there are few who can recite the words and the English version is not much better. The high operatic voice of the singer doesn’t help either.
Englands turn and the crowd belts out God save the Queen with the passion and vocals of a evangelical choir. We are in awe. The Haka takes shape and the English rendition of “swing low” dominates the air space. It reminds me clearly that we are on someone else’s turf and the fire is not all friendly. We don’t hear a word and have to imagine the sound of the slapping of skin. On completion our little corner of black stand up clapping and cheering, if only to make ourselves feel better.
The only time the crowd unite in entirety is the two minutes silence for Remembrance Day, it is a poignant and moving two minutes to be immersed in such silence amongst so many. You can literally hear the rain on the roof and it feels like this amazing crowd of 80,000 has breathed in and held its breath together. The poppies fall in the graphics and we will and do remember them.
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The game itself, I guess you saw it if you were interested and if you didn’t then you aren’t that interested so I shan’t go on but to say it was great. The rain poured but in our little corner it didn’t really matter. The atmosphere was amazing.
I wish I could immerse the sound into this blog as it surely has to be the most memorable. As kiwis our three All Blacks chant. All BLACKS, All BLACKS, ALL BLACKS, seems so inferior not just because in comparison it is a barely heard whisper but also for its lack of tune and tradition when the deafening singing of the English carries itself like a perfect Mexican wave around the stadium.
We won and yes today the press here bare there teeth and fix the headlines but that’s not the reality. It was fun and friendly and I have numerous nameless English who we have promised to meet at the final in Japan. It’s a date.
We vacate our seats and I must admit to being slightly concerned as to how The 80 odd thousand are going to get back so we get more Guinness (or at least WH and his brother do) I drink anonymous “white wine” in a plastic bottle and we watch the aussies and welsh on the big screens beneath the stadium. We eat traditional Cornish pasties for our dinner and wash it down with more unmarked wine. We eventually leave and make our way back to the train, again just follow the herds which are still migrating towards the station.
It’s not that hard and the rain is now an intermittent drizzle so life is good and everyone’s happy. This experience was definitely as much about the journey as the destination.
The outside was imposing
