KEY POINTS:
I've had four speaking engagements in Australia over the last month. I can't help feeling spiritually very close to Oz as the Shadbolts were a convict family. Six Shadbolts were sent to Van Diemien's Land. During some intense debates during the Maori land march and on Bastion Point
I could argue that not all Europeans came to the South Pacific as militant, colonist, pioneers. Some of us were dragged down here in chains, against our will, like the black slaves of America.
In Australia these days having a convict past is now considered aristocratic rather than being a mark of shame. Australia is without doubt the most important country in the world as far as New Zealand is considered. As much as we try and dismiss them as a nation of underarm bowling, uranium-rich slobs who shamelessly suck up to Uncle Sam the fact remains that we are virtually one country. Our flags say it all. As an entertainer I can certainly verify that we have a similar sense of humour. I can see why Fred Dagg so seamlessly crossed the ditch.
And now, thanks to the World Cup we are both bonded as nations in mourning. But hey! Come on! The reason we love sport is because it's so unpredictable. We have to learn to cheer our victories but be philosophical about our defeats. Self-embowelment and manic gut wrenching depression won't make us better.
If you were booked to go to France for the finals, just scalp your tickets and see it as a European holiday. We didn't win the America's Cup or the Rugby World Cup, but as a small Pacific nation we still perform incredibly well on the world stage in a whole range of sporting codes. We always have and we always will. Personally I would feel a lot more gutted if we won the World Cup and then half our key players confessed to using performance enhancing steroids.
This was the case for the stunning US sprinter Marion Jones who won four gold medals at the Sydney Olympics. Now I want to make it quite clear that I'm not pointing the finger at the unfortunate Alinghi Sailor Simon Daubney who is accused of testing positive to a recreational drug.
I draw a firm line between performance enhancing drugs and recreational drugs. Even the most anal retentive anti-drugs campaigner in the world wouldn't dare to suggest that pot, cocaine or alcohol are performance enhancing drugs. In fact, if you can win a hundred yard sprint while you're pissed and stoned you should be allowed to keep your gold medal for having such iron discipline and mental fortitude.
Okay, I admit you're not a brilliant role model and you shouldn't receive an award for your moral virtues or spiritual purity but as an athlete such a feat would be truly remarkable.
And by the way, what's the definition of an All Black's bra it's all support but no cup!
In my own selfish "Tim World" I also suffered a major shock while in Oz. A machine swallowed my eftpos card and a small screen told me it was because I was "not authorised to use this card".
I was outraged. I stormed into the ANZ and demanded my card should be returned but it was all to no avail. I was politely informed that only security guards could open the eftpos machines and my card would be destroyed. Now I know the bank's manufacture these cards, but once issued you assume ownership.
It would be like having a stranger ripping your favourite jackets off your back and then cutting it up because they manufactured the jacket and you are "not authorised to wear it". No further explanation is given. I was shattered.
In my younger days I would have super glued every ANZ eftpos machine in Sydney and would have willingly gone to jail for this act of civil disobedience. Now, as a more mellow grandfather taking my eight-year-old grandson on an Aussie tour, I'm reduced to venting my rage at 'Kafka's Nightmare' on Herald Blogs, but suddenly having no cash in Sydney can be a terrifying experience.
It's like arriving at an airport and your suitcase decides to go on a different journey. All the other passengers look brisk and triumphant as they grab their treasured possessions off the carousal. And you're left standing all alone. The loser. And at some other airport your orphaned suitcase goes round and round. Unclaimed. Unloved. I suppose travel is like sport. One moment you feel on top of the world. Then a few moments later you feel shattered. Maybe that's the story of life.
One moment the horse racing industry in Australia was thriving. One tiny virus later it was completely shattered.
I know it's a cliche but life really seems to be an emotional roller coaster ride of fortune and misfortune, joy and despair, victory and humiliation, Yin and Yang, flux and flow, construction and destruction, love and hate, triumph and tragedy. We all get our share of both and there are no exceptions. That's why I'm a great believer in humour. If we can somehow find a little happiness and laugh at our failings then somehow we will survive.