But while the politics and endless financial speculation about sport's biggest show still make my eyes glaze over with antipathy, I have to concede that in the rare moments when rugby is being played instead of just talked about, it is rather exciting (in a "what just happened/why did the ref do that/can you please explain this" sort of way).
Having done my time on the wintry sidelines as a teenager dating a member of the first XV, rugby has lasting associations with frostbite in my toes and mild distaste from snuggling up to cauliflower ears at after-match functions dominated by underage, over-built boys drinking too much Tui.
But Dan, Israel and Sonny have changed all that for me.
And not just because Sonny took his shirt off mid-game.
Although that did help.
A lot.
Although it's unlikely I will ever get my head around the off-side rule or know what it means when the ref pulls someone up for a knock-on (or anything else for that matter), what I have learned during the past weeks is how to believe in my country again.
Escalating crime, economic gloom, the American reality TV invasion and a general culture of "me not us" has put the boot into patriotism and left me a little underwhelmed about being a Kiwi.
Who would have thought a bunch of rugby players putting the boot in literally could reawaken my sense of national pride?
The black flags that a month ago so annoyed me as they fizzed in the wind on passing cars now make me feel connected to something bigger and better than just myself.
At last week's semifinal I found myself at the local pub cheering as loudly as the strangers at the table next to me and, although I didn't know them, I knew I was connected to them because we were all New Zealanders.
For me, and for the vast majority of Kiwis who are normally ambivalent about what goes on between the goal posts, rugby has become more than a game of two halves, it has become the symbol of who we are as a nation and a reminder that collectivism is still alive and kicking, hopefully in the style of Piri Weepu vs Argentina rather than Australia.
Without doubt, how he and his team perform at Sunday's final will do more than seal the deal for ruby's greatest prize, it will define how Kiwis feel about being Kiwi.
If the All Blacks win, expect to see neighbours who have spent years in isolation finally introducing themselves, expect people to smile and say "hi" in the streets in a way they haven't done for at least 20 years, and don't be surprised when as a nation we start thinking collectively instead of individually.
If they lose? Well, the name says it all really.
The mood of the country will be as black as the over-priced jerseys and we will all retreat back into our shells, a collective failure.
Whoever said "it's only a game" sure wasn't talking about a Rugby World Cup final on home turf.
