Kerre Woodham: Sense of unity steals the show

Kerre Woodham and Casey Green are surrounded by fellow revellers. Photo / Auckland Tourism Events and Economic Development

I think the Irish game at Eden Park last week was more exciting than last night's All Blacks fixture with France.

It was fantastic to sit and cheer on a team without feeling actual physical pain whenever a pass was missed or an attack stifled.

I was supporting the Irish because a) my man is Irish and b) they were the underdogs, and nobody, except perhaps the boys themselves, gave them a show of winning.

Both the Irishman and I dressed up for the game and walked the Fan Trail from Queen Elizabeth Square to Eden Park - and it was just fantastic.

There were hundreds and hundreds of people walking the trail and they were mainly young and Irish, so it was boisterous, rowdy and utterly good-natured.

We stopped for a drink at the Thirsty Dog along the way and Aussie and Irish supporters shared a pint and a few laughs.

Then it was off to the game. My Irishman disappeared somewhere along the way, but I wasn't too worried.

I'd taken the precaution of getting my ticket off him and enough money for a couple of beers in the almost-certain eventuality of him going missing in action, so I was sweet.

My seat was in the midst of a group of Aussie supporters and they couldn't have been nicer when a lone leprechaun took her place among them.

As it got closer to kickoff and my Irishman still hadn't appeared, we all started wondering where he was.

"In the end," I said, "it doesn't really matter. I'm here and I've got enough money for two beers and I'll sort it out once the game's over."

My new Aussie mates laughed, but a little later, on separate occasions, two of them tapped me on the shoulder and said that if I needed anything - more beers or money for a taxi home or a bit of company on the walk back - to just let them know. They were the nicest, most considerate people - their innate good manners couldn't see a woman stranded.

As it was, the Irishman had turned up about five minutes into the game. He'd got into the ground all right, then put his ticket back in his coat pocket.

When he pulled the ticket out later to find his seat, he didn't realise he'd grabbed an old ticket, the one to the opening ceremony, and had been sitting in the wrong seat in the wrong grandstand. Talk about perpetuating stereotypes.

It was a great game and, although my Aussie mates were disappointed, they were gracious in defeat. The Irishman and I walked back up through Kingsland and a man dressed as a kangaroo was good enough to have his photo taken with my mad Irishman.

And that's the enduring image I have of the game: a kangaroo and a leprechaun, arms around each other, grinning broadly.

It's sad to hear that some people were abused by drunken Kiwis but that sort of alcohol-induced aggro can happen in any country. For the vast majority of us, it was a brilliant night out and I'm grateful I was sitting with the nicest Aussies you could ever hope to meet.