At the time of "The Brighton Miracle", I was in the back of a French made rental car driving through the suburbs of South West London talking crap with three other blokes.
Four years later, as "The Stunner in Shuzioka" unfolded, I was alone in my room in Japan.
Having earlier attended All Blacks press conferences, I retired to my lodgings to begin crafting the various musings into stories for the loyal listeners of Newstalk ZB and Radio Sport.
As the laptop fired up and green tea brewed, the television was turned on with images of Argentina and Tonga filling the 32 inch screen
Work began, pausing only to acknowledge Telusa Veainu's delightful stepping and to berate the lack of a penalty try and yellow card for Tomas Lavanini's try-saving shoulder charge … no Jaco, he did not attempt wrap his right arm..
However it was the encounter that followed between Japan and Ireland that was the big one.
With the atmosphere in the stadium leaping out of the television, the opening whistle blew.
Twenty minutes in and the Irish had control at 12-3 thanks to two tries and a conversion.
They would not score again.
The Brave Blossoms were doing everything with such speed and intent.
They could not be quelled.
The first I noticed of the noises coming from nearby rooms was when Yu Tamura kicked his third penalty just before halftime as a solitary cheer seeped through the wall.
That was quickly followed by a very audible groan as Shota Horie's grubber kick rolled into touch and the first half was over.
All was quiet(ish) for the first 15 minutes of the second half until another yelp of exasperation, this time in stereo, as Tumara dragged a penalty past the left upright.
The celebration of Kenki Fukuoka's try two minutes later was quadrophonic and several decibels louder.
It was on and they, whoever "they' were, knew it.
The volume kept creeping up and up until replacement Irish first five Joey Carbery inexplicably kicked the ball out to end the contest.
Fans down either side of the hall squealed with delight, though palpable relief was noticeable, accompanied by applause.
It didn't take long for one group to emerge, their rapid enthusiastic chatter, peppered with laughter, a universal sign of supporters whose team has just won.
The result created a little extra work, but first …dinner.
At times like these you want to head out and soak in the vibe.
The lift was summoned and stopped at the eighth floor.
Three highly animated men and a marginally less excited young lady stepped in.
The smallest of the three men looked up at me, his eyes bright, wide and dancing.
I couldn't understand what he said, but he pretty pumped up about it.
I politely apologised for not understanding him.
That seemed to infuse his next statement with more passion.
"LUGBY?!" he blurted out with a mix of hope and confidence.
I smiled and nodded.
"Yes mate … rugby," and the handshake/nodathon began with great gusto as the elevator descended.
Upon arriving at the ground floor I was sent on my way with a series of hearty back slaps.
I looked at the people wandering towards me, every one acknowledging this casually clad foreigner with a smile or a nod.
Then for some reason, I stopped and looked around.
In that moment, I was completed surrounded by pure joy, unadulterated happiness and national pride and it felt amazing.
In this time of overt opinions driven by the need for instantaneous reaction rather than observation and considered thought, we can be very cynical, often downright nasty and vindictive about all manner of things with sport high on that list.
Personally it was a timely reminder that we should never underestimate the power of sport and the many vessels through which it's able to distribute a unique form of positivity.
Thank you Japan – you did it again and not just on the field.
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