Field Theory by Hadyn Green

Twenty ten is all about football. Forget rugby, we can worry about that next year.

The All Whites victory over Bahrain to get to the World Cup was the just the start of what has become a true movement. At yesterday's Phoenix game against the Newcastle Jets there were over 32,000 people, a club record. The true fanatics, the casual fans, the people who follow football but never got to many games, the people who were curious about what this was all about, the people who wanted to see what it was like being in this crowd, and the people who actually supported the Jets.

Compare that 32,000 to the 24,000 that watched the second fixture of Melbourne and Sydney, or the 4,000 that watched Newcastle play Gold Coast last week. In fact the 32,792 who watched the Phoenix beat the Jets was the biggest crowd all season by over 2,000.

Click the photos for a prettier size

The hoardings were all Australian ads, the big screen played ads to bolster support for the Socceroos, the loud speakers blasted Wolfmother and all the money went to Football Australia. What did the home ground announcers control? The volume. This was an Australian show, but a Wellington home field.

As Newcastle made their first break they ran towards the Yellow Fever corner and hit a wall of sound that clearly spooked them and they turned the ball over. Yeah man, it was loud. Newcastle scored first, causing the only moment of silence. It took three seconds before the "Fee-Nix!" chant came back.

Not long after coming Daniel screwed up a good chance. Instead of dropping his head he walked towards the Fever and pumping up the crowd. The louder the better and the better the noise the more chances the Phoenix had.

I sat next to Michael Burgess up in the press booth and consummate professionals that we were, we swore and yelled and cheered along with the crowd just outside the window. The Aussies at the other end were a bit grumblier.

I know it'll be in every media piece about the game but the crowd really was bloody loud. And there was a distinct lack of munters. On twitter after the game there was a fair amount of bah-humbugging at the supporters driving about with horns going and jerseys hanging out the windows but really it was Cuba Carnival level excitement.

And it was truly fun to be part of. From where we sat you could watch the Fever corner slowly change from yellow to the colour of sunburnt Caucasian.

How long will this excitement last? Will hordes of New Zealanders catch the football (ahem) fever and book tickets to South Africa? Will they be drawn in their hundreds down to the public big screens to watch the team? A dry-run for Party Central perhaps? I hope so, but I'm a wee bit pessimistic.

Then again the World Cup is a big event here when New Zealand isn't playing. If anything Nike can expect to sell a few more plain white shirts (we must be the easiest team to make uniforms for).

I'm not going to talk rugby, but Cory Jane and Jason Eaton attended the first Phoenix play-off game and couldn't believe how amazing the crowd atmosphere was. They marvelled at the songs and wondered why their fans weren't like this. So they put out the call for Hurricanes supporters to come along and sing and chant. The CEO of Wellington Rugby asked for the same thing during yesterday's massive win. So basically they are asking them to not be New Zealand rugby fans.

I'm not placing a value judgment on this, but New Zealand rugby fans just aren't the chanting, singing type. Maybe the Welsh and English will belt out a few tunes but New Zealanders watch the game with their arms crossed and tell you to "bloody siddown" if you get in the way. It's not all that, naturally, but in general the crowd isn't a singing/chanting one.

You can't simply change a community by telling them to be more like another one. Sorry rugby.

It should also be noted that this is the first play-off appearance in the history of New Zealand's only pro football club. And football, while popular, isn't the dominant sport in New Zealand, and is traditionally a sport we don't do all that well in. So the crowd is probably going to be a bit more raucous than they are during the opening rounds of a tournament where the team is playing fairly easy opponents.

Now the question is going to be, who is flying to Australia to help fill the stadium over there?

All of Mike's photos can be found here.

I sat eating my late dinner of meat and three veg and drinking a beer from an old Lion Red pint glass while, on the television, New Zealand played Australia in the cricket. The nostalgia damn near pushed me out of my chair.

I was surprised to be honest, but I really was taken back to those days in the 80s. On a warm summer evening in the suburbs of Tauranga you could ride your bike around and hear the cheers from the houses as we got a wicket or hit a six. Or alternating between lying on the floor in front of the TV and running outside to practice bowling against a wall.

Of course back then there wasn't someone on the couch doing the grocery shopping from a laptop while I checked the stats on my CricInfo iPhone app. But something about it felt all Wonder Years-y.

I have to admit I missed the end of the game, and that I also assumed we would lose after Ross Taylor was out. Turns out we didn't. Saved by the man I once described as looking like a Grizzly Bear when he bowled, Scott Styris.

And what do you NOT do to a Grizzly Bear? Head butt it. You probably shouldn't head butt a guy in a helmet and carrying a large bat either. Heck you can't even kick him in the nads, silly Australian.

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There is also a Public Address/Cricket/Wellington announcement coming up, so keep an eye out for that.

"The men's ice hockey final", I thought, "that's an odd thing to have so early in the games". Then a quiet part of my brain showed me a distant memory.

I was in a bar with friends catching up over a beer, and in the background on a small TV over the bar the New Zealand team were walking into a stadium. The grainy image quickly changed to the Norwegians and a wide shot of the arena filled with giant totem poles and native Canadian dancers.

I had missed the Winter Olympics!

What the hell? I watched the sports news every night, the only sports on were cricket and rugby with the occasional story about how a rower was training. I mean there was that sixty seconds or so where they showed some skiing and skating, but that couldn't have been their coverage of the biggest winter sports event in the world that's only held every four years, could it?

Compare and contrast Prime/Sky's coverage of the Winter Olympics with TVNZ's coverage from Beijing and it doesn't look so great for the pay-tv model. And this was the network that was so excited about the Olympics it had the rings logo embossed on the screen since the middle of last year. Sure Sky actually had extra channels running, but TVNZ ran its extra channels online so I could watch all of them at once (and for free).

And Prime's evening coverage seemed to be mainly The Crowd Goes Wild. I'm not sure about you, but I want to see the sport, not some out of their depth "reporters" attempting humour.

I did actually catch some of my favourite sports: luge, skeleton, bobsled, biathlon, figure skating (yes, get fucked, I like figure skating), curling, downhill, and giant slalom. I missed out on the speed skating though, which is my favourite winter sport.

To me speed skaters look like super heroes. Incredible speeds, huge muscles, tight lycra. Just compare these photos to this.

But the games are over and we are sadder for it. We battled adversity and with courage, overcame challenges. With our moms, dads, sons and daughters, we were able to triumph over tragedy and with determination take an emotional journey to reach our dream.

And with that I think I broke the Olympic Sap-O-Meter.

The concert started with a bunch of heavy power chords from the first song. And crowd was into it. They weren't instantly moshing, but their heads were nodding rhythmically to the notes and some were singing along. This felt like it was going to be another hit.

This is why the crowd had pushed through the concert doors early. Why they jostled for the best position in front of the stage.

"You love the things that are made with love!" And love is all you need.

They felt like they were once again part of a larger movement. It was a range of American Blues mixed with gospel. "Yes we can!" and we did!

Then something happened. Songs that were good when played while relaxing at home didn't translate well to the big stage and crowd grew restless. They felt a little cheated. Self-referential music and a shout out to Wellington that felt like the singer looked at the back of his guitar.

Then the Hi-Fi started hiccupping and the grumbles became rumbles. The concert promoters were sweating.

The crowd broke up and went to the other stages where different flavours of music were playing. In the VJ tent the mood was good. There were even some moments of nudity as the lyrics rang out: "Where do you like to be touched?". The heavy bass-thumping rhythm (including a remix of Radiohead) changed to a more downbeat groove and the sound was like the Kleptones. How do you take a million different pieces and get something from them that sounds so good?

The crowd returned to the main stage, knowing that the hi-fi was still busted and perhaps still a little edgy. But the whole concert swung around on one talk from a rock-chick straight out of Brooklyn with a sound like Mos Def meets Talking Heads.

The first day of the festival finished with poetry. Good poetry is the hardest thing to describe, so I shall just say that the crowd was moved to fall in love with the poet (and his gorgeous green eyes).

The audience dissipated into the night, laughing and carousing to a sequence of bars and watering holes. And, unlike every other concert ever, the artists were there too. They loved it. They were bought beers, they discussed chord changes with other budding guitarists, they became enamoured of this new experience.

Bleary-eyed and stumbling in the next day, the audience was in good spirits. So it was a good idea to blast them out of their socks early. And the organisers delivered. Bright visuals and big ideas. Solid messages, reaching out to the audience and putting those big ideas in their heads.

After this concert we'll see a lot of bands starting up. And more than just two guys in a garage. It was funk for the soul. "Can you digg it?" "Yes we can!"

Filled with the spirit, I wandered off to try to get backstage. The artists relaxed with personal masseuses, bowls filled with candy, and by hooking themselves into the web. They joked and were so laid back I felt bad for breaking the atmosphere.

A team of wonderful wranglers ran about trying to find me a poet. They found him and he instantly asked if we could get some cocaine for the media room (true story).

Rives:

I decided to sit down with the VJs. They were like zen gurus and I was on an acid come-down

Ben Cerveny and Toby Segaran:

Back at the main stage the crowd was in good spirits again. They were cheering the crazy guitar licks and stamping their feet along to the swaggering lead singers. They mouthed the words that now seemed so familiar though they had only just heard them.

"By the end of the week/I had surfed the entire internet!"

It was a non-smoking venue but virtual lighters were being held aloft as virtual arms swayed side to side. Sure there were after-parties and after-after-parties but nobody really wanted it to end. For weeks later the conversation will still be on these singers and their songs.

Then over beers the audience relaxes and reminisces. "Remember when Attwood sang how he loved his computer?" "Seb Chan looked like he was having loads of fun up there" "Adam Greenfield made me wave my Snapper card in the air!" "I think Ries, Rives and Rose should start a super-group"

The festival ends, but the music continues.

I looked at the new Super 14 ads carefully. Young players, some kids I didn't quite recognise, were running about on a field with some of the rugby greats I'd seen in my youth and some I'd only seen in books and in television specials. Sometimes the effect was done well, in others it felt as though the glory of a former player was being taken away by new talent.

But the main thing I took from the new campaign was: The Super 14 hasn't been around that long.

I mean you can insert new players into old footage as a way of implying that this is some sort of ancient heritage. But those new BNZ logoed uniforms have only just come into being this year. And the previous versions were pretty new. And come to think of it next year it's not going to be the Super 14 anymore.

Here's a quick breakdown: The Super 10 started in 1993 and went for three years; the Super 12 started in 1996 and became the Super 14 in 2006; next year we go to Super 15.

So in the fourteen years that Super Rugby, as it is disgustingly known, has been a separate competition: the teams have had a multitude of uniforms, some of them have changed names, they had the place names dropped and the districts altered, the rules have been changed and then changed back then changed a different way, stadiums have changed names too and a few have been rebuilt, coaches have come and gone, and players move about regularly in the draft or even end up playing in South Africa.

Basically Super Rugby has never felt stable. It always feels like something is going to change, that nothing will settle down. As soon as there is a change already the media, the unions and the fans start talking about what the next alteration will be.

We've had four years with fourteen teams. We may only get one or two years with fifteen before we get another change. We already know that Argentinean players will be allowed in to align with the Tri-Nations re-jigging.

And the changes aren't improvements. In the opening round of this season the new tightening of the laws at the breakdown simply increased the penalty count and brought ire down on the referees.

It's flux; it's chaos; it's ultimately dull rugby. Fans don't invest in a team they think is going to be different the next year, even if it's simply wearing a new uniform. And it's spreading.

The Air New Zealand Cup has had more wardrobe changes than a Lady Gaga concert, the Tri-Nations is awaiting an extra team, and the poor Bledisloe cup is trotted out more than ever (and get's overseas trips now too).

I want to blame the administrators of the game for changing their minds with the tide, but maybe it's us. Maybe we get bored to quickly, we think our ideas are fantastic and should be implemented, our interpretation of the rules should be heeded, and our feedback and pearls of wisdom valued as actual gems.

Nah, it's probably them.