There has been a fair bit of discussion on the forums (Fori? Fora? Forgeddit!) about what team should now be followed, for those of us who are unfortunate enough to not have a team in the finals this year.
Let me now hold open the gaping paper cut I received by supporting the team that won the wooden spoon, while you squeeze some citric acid in there.
I gave a fairly blunt response to some of the more enthusiastic fellow GAGR’s; I couldn’t give a f*ck.
That didn’t seem to go over very well with the masses, and it appears that in Australian rugby circles (I would rather chew my own leg off than speak on behalf of NZ or SA rugby supporters), it is rather expected for one to declare a “second team”, a secret favourite if you will, to cheer across the line if your team has fallen in a smashed avocado breakfast kind of way just the week before, as my team did.
This is an interesting phenomenon. It got me to thinking; why can’t I muster the strength to politely hip hip hoorah another Australian province in the finals? Why is there such pressure to do so? Why am I made to feel like a traitor to Australian rugby by declaring my non-interest? Why do I feel that my preference is, in fact, to caterpillar crawl under the doona and wait patiently for the international window to open up, so I can emerge in full Gold fanatical bloom like some kind of LSD-enhanced butterfly?
Being a Rebels supporter makes the answer a bit more complicated, and paradoxically so much clearer; much as I expect our cousins over in the West would appreciate, having been there before. You see, the Rebels came about only 4 and bit years ago, yet Super Rugby, much like the prehistoric rock it is played on, is far older.
So I must have followed a team before the Rebels, right? I mean, it makes sense. And if I did, how did it come about that I could so casually turn my back on my former province? Coward! Thief! Fi Fie Fo Fum, and all that. So here’s my story.
One man’s journey along the Super Rugby highway, to the town of HumBug (Pop. 1).
Back in the day (1995-2009 BR. Oh, that’s Before Rebels, just FYI) I followed the Red’s, for the simple fact that I lived in Qld for 5 years and that was about as close to a provincial alignment I could get. I never went to a game as I was based in Townsville, so the only real sensation of being a Red’s supporter was the fact I was usually in a crowded bar with many other Red’s supporters. To be Blue was instant cockroach-y death, and Canberra is, well, not my favourite place in the world.
After I left Queensland, I spent a bit of time in the wilderness before being fortunate enough to be sent overseas as a Fully Fledged Ex-Pat.
Now, for those who have been a-travellin’, or who may have tasted the sweet, sweet nectar of ex-pat existence, there is but one common language of the ex-pat community, and that language is RUGBY. So, I needed to keep hold of my ever-increasing tenuous hold of the Queensland Reds. I needed to speak the language, and to make beer-shout bets over games, and to wear the uniform of a battle-hardened rugby supporter. To do that, I needed a team. So the Reds stayed with me. Why change, when there was not much on offer elsewhere to change to? I may have only had a micro-affinity to the Reds, but I had zero affinity to all the other provinces.
But here’s the kicker; the Reds never felt like “my” team. It just suited my needs given I love Super Rugby and I need a team to support. It’s a guy thing, I suspect; to fully enjoy the sporting battle, one needs to feel the orgasmic rush of victory, or the gut-twisting agony of defeat. Can I get a “HELL YEAH!” my brothers?
It all changed for me, so clearly, cleanly and wonderfully, the very second the Rebels came into being; I dropped the Reds like a hot potato. And here’s why.
I finally had a team that came from “my” hometown. A team that represented “my” province. A team that I could go to watch week in and week out. A team that I could interact with at functions, training and post-game.
A team to cheer for, and mean it.
A team that gives me chills of joy, and moments of utter despair. Not just because I need to support a Super Rugby team to be part of the culture and the community, but because that team speaks to my very soul in a way that the Reds could never do, as much as I tried to pretend they did.
That is why I have finished my season at the same time as the Rebels; the very second the final whistle blew at Loftus against the Bulls in fact, and why I am relatively indifferent to the other Australian provinces still in the pointy end. My passion, rugby life-force and will to cheer was switched off so completely when the Rebels walked off the field for the final time in 2014 that it cannot be turned back on for anyone else. Not the Tahs, nor the Brumbies. Super Rugby is adios amigo for 2014.
Only the Rebels have the key for that particular lock, my friends.
I wish the Tahs and the Brumbies well, of course, but it’s all a bit blah to me. I didn’t give a rat’s about them all year, and I may have even disliked them a bit from time to time when they played my lads, so how can I pretend to care about them now? I can’t.
But, I hear you cry, there are Wallabies in the Tahs and the Brumbies! And also, just in case you didn’t realise it, it’s still Australian teams against NZ and SA teams!
B.O.L.L.O.C.K.S.
I love Adam Ashley-Cooper in Gold. Could barely care less when he is in blue. Same for Izzy. Same for all the other Wallabies plying their trade for NSW or the ACT. I’ll be watching and hoping they get up over the NZ and SA teams, but not enough to break into a chorus of Waltzing Matilda. Or even worse, that Aussie, Aussie, Aussie chant.
Super Rugby is just another footy competition. Take away the fact that it is played over three countries, it is still just a provincial competition that is tribal in nature. No different to AFL or NRL. Well, clearly it’s much better, but you know what I mean. Stop being so pedantic and just keep reading.
And I bet you all the change in my pocket, against all the change in yours, that Liverpool supporters don’t cheer Man Utd in the Champions League when they get knocked out.
I understand if others feel differently. That’s perfectly fine. It’s just not me.
But here is lock number two; once the Wallabies re-start the ignition, so will I. Big time.
You see, my passion is two-fold; For Super Rugby I am a Rebel’s man, and for the international season I am a Wallabies man. The two co-exist easily, living separate lives in the same body. I prefer to keep my passion concentrated and focused, not sprayed around like a tom cat on heat.
And the No Vacancy sign is burning brightly.
To me that is pretty cut and dried.
Super Rugby finals? Bah Humbug!
