They're getting just a little bit angry, in the stands at Eden Park. Who could blame them?
Most people expected the Blues to lose their game against the Hurricanes on Friday, because the Hurricanes are second best in the comp and the Blues are almost second worst. So although we were filled with hope, and we were, we had also steeled ourselves. Just don't let it be a rout.
It wasn't a rout. It was, somehow, worse. Because the Blues did everything right to win except score points.
They had the ball almost all the time, especially in the first half, and they played most of the game pressed close to the Hurricanes' goal line. When that happens, the rules of rugby are supposed to be that all the pressure eventually turns into points.
It's championship lore. It's how the Crusaders win; it's often how the All Blacks win. Have faith, keep on doing what you're doing and, if you're doing it right, the rewards will come. It's a life hack.
And what is rugby if it's not our grand national reservoir of life hacks? Come on, where's your faith?
And yet there is another way to look at the process of the same thing over and over and not getting the desired result. That's another life hack.
This is how it went on Friday night. Marvellous performances by Blues players all over the park pushed the game back to the Hurricanes' line, time after time. The danced like butterflies, stung like 10-tonne trucks, and even, more than once, got themselves right over the line. Without, somehow, scoring.
Well, they got a couple, one through some rampaging inspirational brilliance by co-captain Patrick Tuipulotu, but the advantage was quickly negated. Because there were those two times when a Hurricanes player managed to touch the ball, and on both of them he ran away to score.
The Monday Blues: Song night for the Blues in the Tron
Monday Blues: Another win and the sound of 'happiness moaning'
What the hell was going on? In the second half, more of the same. The Blues got near, the Hurricanes invariably cheated to stop them, the referee invariably awarded a penalty, the Blues invariably chose a scrum or sometimes a lineout, the Hurricanes invariably cheated again, the Blues invariably chose another scrum, and there was no end to it.
They did not score from this nightmare and they did not change the plan at all. And every time the Hurricanes touched the ball they ran away to score. The Blues, despite having done it four times this year, do not know how to win.
What does it mean, to not know how to win? In politics, it is a party that can't stay focused on the things that will get it elected. In sport, it's about not understanding the elements of your game that stop you winning.
So, seeing as you ask, Mr MacDonald, Coach, Sir, I do have a suggestion. Why not use a few of those penalties our team keeps being awarded right in front of the posts to kick some goals?
Just think of the advantages. We'd score points! And the opposition would stop cheating in the scrum and on the defensive line and in the ruck, because they'd know they were giving away points! And then, with the scrum being allowed to work properly, we might score some tries too.
I know, it's not the New Zealand way. We score tries. We don't play to get penalties and then kick goals – we call that a disgraceful excuse for rugby. It's what England and sometimes South Africa do.
We should get over ourselves. Well-organised teams know how to defend against the Blues. The Blues don't know how to overcome that. All teams are well organised on defence.
Late in the game, big-screen close-ups showed both Ma'a Nonu and Akira Ioane looking completely filthy. Ioane always looks pretty filthy, but this was something more. Nonu keeps a Zen calm at all times, so this was really something more. What were they thinking? Who were they blaming?
They worked hard all night, those two. And they weren't alone. Their teammates all worked hard.
Tuipulotu, especially, soldiered tirelessly all night, forcing his way upfield with Hurricanes hanging off him like zombie warriors clinging to a prince. He's our Jon Snow. Got all the makings of a hero but you do sometimes wonder if he knows what to do next.
It's not about effort, it's not even about the talent. It's about the plan. Rugby, eh. So full of life hacks.
Nor was it just Nonu and Ioane getting a bit filthy. Friday's crowd, which was quite big but overwhelmingly men, was down on it too. Back in the late summer days, when the games started in sunshine and everything seemed possible, there were lots of families, teams of kids who play together, many more women. Most of them are staying home now, even though it's neither cold nor wet.
Men, spitting it out as we all walked away: "Should have won" and "capitulated" and "going for the glory try", said with the particular sneer we reserve for anyone who sacrifices team success for personal fame.
My solution is that we become like Hamilton. The Blues played there exactly a month ago on a festive night full of music and colour, families with hot dogs and the steamy breath rising on the cold night air, everyone out for a PG-rated party night. It was great fun.
Eden Park, meanwhile, has far more resources, some better food, better transport and a singular determination to prove itself the "national stadium", and yet it has none of that Hamilton atmosphere. On Friday the mood was glum.
Except at halftime, when they brought out a bunch of people in those bouncy see-through spheres used in what Norwegians call boblefotball. They ran about knocking each other over and everywhere you looked people had stopped to watch and have a good laugh.
I'm not sure we should replace rugby with boblefotball, although it's tempting. But could both the park and the team learn something from that little distraction?
There are only two more home games in the season (and three on the road): how about they get serious about us having some fun?