I might have been a nerd when I was young but I did play rugby, even if it meant putting up with a bit of rough play for being a nerd. My favourite position was half-back because I was fast and fleet on my feet. I could whip those passes out with astonishing accuracy for my age.
The incentive was to get the ball away before I was smashed to the ground. Still, there were many who ignored the late tackle rule to their peril as our team was quite protective of me. Once they got to know me, a few of the refs were as well.
I left rugby late at High School, I didn't see the point in being pummelled week after week when I had other things I wanted to achieve. I had a small deputation of the rugby playing teachers try to convince me to stay on saying I had potential in the higher levels in the game. Flattered as I was, I did not relate to those old rugby veterans held together by titanium and opted for a more academic path. It did not mean that I fell out of love for the game and I have been an enthusiastic follower all my life. Within reason of course; after all it is just a game isn't it?
Well, yes and no.
The two most powerful teams in the Rugby Universe are New Zealand's All Blacks and South Africa's Springboks. These two teams have been uncompromising foe on the field for decades. Their games are always brutal but off the field they have always been mates.
In these two countries Rugby is a religion
The game in South Africa was traditional to that of the white Afrikaans and many years ago the White South Africans harshly suppressed the majority Black South Africans under a system called apartheid. Rugby matches were highly symbolic of the white rule. The blacks who were allowed in to the stadia had to sit in designated places and would actually cheer for the All Blacks.
There were riots in New Zealand as many felt we should not be playing a game with a country that did not allow equal rights. The protestors tried to disrupt the games. The country became divided and there was near civil war during one Springbok tour of New Zealand.
But rugby is just a game, isn't it?
Well, what has this to do with my story and extra time? Those supporting South Africa's right to play said that politics should not interfere with sport. It's an absurd proposition because politics control every facet of our life. We simply don't see it until it is too late. Believe me I know, from bitter experience.
Let me give you an example.
The greatest rugby match of all time was the 1995 Rugby World Cup final. At that tournament the All Blacks were undoubtedly the favourites and the team to beat. In their march to the final they had annihilated the English; the All Black's legendry mountain of a wing, Jonah Lomu, repeatedly grinding tacklers into the South African dust.
Inevitably the final was to be South Africa versus New Zealand. From the start of the game there were things stacked against New Zealand. The game was to be played at altitude, on Ellis Park Johannesburg. The altitude had always been South Africa's advantage as they were used to training there.
Apartheid in South Africa had only recently been shattered; Nelson Mandela was the first black president who was desperately following a policy of reconciliation to avoid civil war. This was the first world cup that South Africa had played in, it was at home and their final was against the might of the All Blacks.
Immediately before the match two thirds of the All Black team were stricken with food poisoning but they elected to play.....at altitude.
The game was as brutal and uncompromising as All Black Springbok games can be and at full time the score was 12 all. No player had successfully crossed the touch line, all the points were penalties.
The game went to extra time.
Following a five minute rest both teams were back on the field to play a further 10 minutes to try and break the deadlock. And the Springboks did it with one measly three points from a drop goal leaving the once mighty All Blacks, literally vomiting on the field.
It was Mandela's triumph, as dressed in a springbok's jersey and cap he held the Webb Ellis Trophy. The sight of a black man of such stature in a Rugby Jersey was revolutionary and may well have symbolically paved the path of reconciliation avoiding the civil war everyone feared.
South Africa had to win that game. Were the All Blacks deliberately poisoned? Some were sure they were but it was all swept under the carpet. Maybe in 50 years' time, in some declassified document we will finally get the truth.
Anyway Rugby is just a game, isn't it?
Well consider this.
Nelson Mandela's success inspired Obama to become President of the United States, whose success provoked the implacable desire of Trump to gain the presidency and so on.
Now imagine if you were the All Blacks coach. He was focussed on the All Blacks winning. He was not interested in all this geopolitical crap. He had the best team and was expected to win as he watched his players dropping like flies. What the fuck was going on? And then he loses the game and nobody is interested in his protestations. Who knows? If he happens to live for another 50 years maybe he just might find out what happened.
This gets me to the ending of my story, in extra time.
As unrest continued in the United States there was fall out in New Zealand. New Zealand had received a large number of refugees from the States. Some of these were Climate refugees but increasingly many were from the now nearly defeated Confederate resurrection looking for an offshore bolt hole. The long standing progressive government in New Zealand was becoming a little stale. The opposition were exploiting the refugees to bolster their support.
That was the politics of the situation. On our home front Mary was the director of Civil Defence. New Zealand fortunately had few natural disasters of late and the global situation and the influx of refugees was seen as the greatest risk. Mary was mandated to coordinate the agencies overseeing health, housing, and security. The refugees often arrived in waves and the effect of them had the potential to destabilize New Zealand's small population so her job was an important one.
We at least had a stable home life although Mary, these days, seemed remote. She was there at home in the weekends and for events like birthdays and anniversaries. We had our holidays but Mary always seemed to be detached. Our intimate life was comfortable but uninspiring. It took a bit of alcohol and some special event to invoke a romp in the hay, as it were.
In short Mary was not the mother and wife she had once been. Sexually, I usually had to do it solo; late at night when the kids were in bed. There was very little love in our love making, she seemed focussed elsewhere. Let alone the sex, I was missing affection or even just conversation about the inconsequential. Our conversations about children digressed into something akin to planning military logistics.
I began really discussing the personal and private stuff that one would normally do with the wife with my work colleagues. They were all now my long standing friends and I think they understood and were sympathetic. One of these was Mary's father Frank and the other, dangerously, was my former wife Georgia. Both had now joined partners and me in the architectural firm.