Gen Why: More than just a ball game

It was coming not from a shiny sound-system but a bearded dock worker seated in front of an old piano and jamming away as if the world was going to end.THREE little words, one phrase, a world of meaning. You know the one. It's powerful, passionate and may well be the only adage cogent enough to stir any kind of emotional vigour out of your average Kiwi male.

Yet as stirring as its syllables may be, no matter the angst and tears and sleepless nights behind those little three words, a legion of cynics are sick of them already. The Rugby World Cup is a powerful beast all right but the novelty can't last forever.

I first came to see the not-so-amorous side of the RWC a few days ago, while discussing the subject with my Turkish flatmate. A soccer fanatic, he considers rugby players to be only slightly higher on the evolutionary scale than sea cucumbers. When the All Blacks attended an event at the Viaduct restaurant where he works, all the interest he could fathom was a glance at the "ugly yellow cup thing" on a table.

When I told him most Kiwi men would donate their vital organs for a chance to play for the "ugly yellow cup thing", he sighed and hung his head in an expression I can only describe as unadulterated loathing.

It was from this point I started to notice a change in the wind. From taxi drivers to councillors and even middle-aged Kiwi blokes who should really know their stereotype better, those three sweet little words started to include an escalating number of expletives.

The beloved Rugby World Cup started being known as The World's Biggest Traffic Jam, The Big-Brand Takeover and in the case of my flatmate, The "*$& per cent@ing Longest Shift Of My Life".

Empowered by rebellion, I set out to explore the dark side, with a photojournalism assignment on a "social issue" coming up, I intended to pull out the ethical big guns. Camera in hand, I headed to the Viaduct intent on capturing everything that was wrong with the RWC. The commercialisation of culture, macho idolatry, consumption, crime and violence - I would spare no feelings, I would catch it all in its ugliest light.

Perhaps I didn't look hard enough, because after three hours scouring the joint I found the amount of corruption seriously underwhelming. Where were the ticket scalpers, the fake greenstone floggers? Where was the drunken regional footy team burning the Australian flag and heading home to beat their immediate family?

I could see none of it and was feeling seriously uninspired. Then I heard something unusual. Amidst the bustle of tourists, churning of coffee machines and the ever-present clank of construction was something else; a beautiful tune. A tune that on closer listen was the unmistakable air of Mozart's Concerto 21.

It was coming not from a shiny sound-system but a bearded dock worker seated in front of an old piano and jamming away as if the world was going to end.

Overalled, paint-smeared and scruffy, he had gathered quite a crowd. The atmosphere was much appreciated but people mostly kept their distance. Some took photos, others did an amusing double take before moving on.

Only one ventured close. She was blonde, bolshy and about 3 years old. She marched towards the piano, tapped the unlikely player on the arm and asked him to get off.

He laughed, relinquished his seat and looked on politely while little miss proceeded to murder the keys with gusto.

This was only the start. On the way home, I walked past a business woman having a smoke with the construction crew, a Samoan girl trying to teach an Australian couple how to say talofa without sounding ridiculous, a group of Englishmen calling New Zealand "the friendliest country in the world".

It might not have made for a great social issue but it increased my faith in civilisation tenfold.

I'm going to tell my flatmate it doesn't matter that he hates rugby. The three little words are the phrase of the moment for more than just the game itself. It's about connections, acceptance and camaraderie.

If you find yourself getting RWC fatigue over the next six weeks, I can highly recommend a walk outside and a good look round. You will surprise yourself.

Happy Friday, everyone.