How does my iPod know? Know when I'm most susceptible to the calls of home? Walking back home today, my iPod queued-up the Muttonbirds You Will Return (where the f**k is McGlashan getting strong strong coffee from, not bloody Sydney mate) followed by Dave Dobbyn's Loyal... I almost cried... but then, as if to ensure I understood, Greg Johnson's Don't Wait Another Day and Shihad's Home Again... I shit-you-not!
I'm particularly susceptible because Mrs backin15 and I are once again looking to buy and, quite apart from the fear associated with Sydney-sized debt, I'm struggling with where I want to be? NZ or Australia? Home or this foreign land I quite like?
Either way, I'm not watching any significant Rugby World Cup games with Australians. It's not like they're unpleasant or particularly unreasonable... it's just that I may wish to be and I don't want to feel in any way restricted if, for example, I need to question George Smith's technique, moral fibre or parentage. I also want to be surrounded by fellow kiwis, rugby tragics and hopeless optimists. I want to feel the camaraderie and warmth of fellow devotees and need to know that they too experienced the devastation of '91, '95, '99 and 2003. I don't want to have to hear how good Gregan, Larkham, Giteau are. I don't care if Sharpe's a top bloke or that Staniforth's a try magnet. I want to be enveloped by blackness, by flattened vowels and a shared belief in Richie McCaw's virtue. I don't even want to have a token Australian to mock and bait. I want to drink DB, eat Rashuns and Pixie Caramels and hear only Keith Quinn, Murray Mexted and Grant Fox calling the game.
And at the end, when we've won and William Webb Ellis is held aloft and we are all drunk on relief and exaltation, I want to to be hear...
Hope whai ake!
Waewae takahia kia kino!