Chris Rattue: Even more baffling than the billboards

These are confusing times, and I'm not just talking about this month's election.

Although it may actually be that this damn strategic voting business is the reason for a plague of confusion around our fair land, as evidenced by the tremors which struck where it hurt most on Saturday night, deep in the heart of our beloved All Black captain.

This complex voting caper is turning us into a nation of floaters and undecideds.

The people I really feel sorry for are those teams of brave billboard destroyers who face baffling decisions in the various electorates because of MMP voting.

In the old days you either chopped down the National billboard or the Labour one. The only tricky decision was over how wide to make the little Hitler moustaches if you were on a search-and-deface mission.

Now, with coalitions, strategic voting and all ... impossible, as the polls keep revealing.

And as the nation dithers, so did Tana Umaga after the heroic/horrible victory over Australia at Eden Park on Saturday night.

Never - in the glorious history of sport - can a man have appeared so confused after sending a bitter foe to a defeat which enabled him to hold aloft not one, but two treasured trophies (okay - one treasured trophy and the Tri-Nations one).

As he made his way from the field, Tana struggled manfully to sound elated while fending off searching questions that hadn't actually arrived.

Just how, we all wondered, had the All Blacks almost surrendered a 20-point lead at home to an Australian team who would have trouble scaring a small child.

(And for good measure, just who were two of those blokes on the Wallaby reserves bench ... Alex Who? Lloyd Who?)

The question concerning the stumbling nature of the victory was clearly already developing in Tana's mind, although he wasn't required to answer it just yet.

Tricky questions are banned at on-field, post-match television interviews even though the man with the microphone on Saturday, Ian Smith, bravely hinted that the All Blacks had been thrown "off kilter".

Not that this is a criticism of Smith and co. It would be unfair for interviewers to wave thumbscrews about when the footballers are still in oxygen debt and haven't had time to get their stories straight. The on-field interview is just another soundbite, just another photo-op.

And on-field rugby interviewers are widely believed to have given up asking sensible questions ever since Sean Fitzpatrick said something like, "What chomped ear?" after a test against South Africa, even though the body part in question was dangling by his chin and looked remarkably like stir-fried noodles.

Since then, television field interviewers who do lapse into proper questions have even learned to build in clarifications and corrections.

You know the type.

"Were you disappointed that your goalkicker missed 17 out of 18 shots although of course none of them were in front and there was a slight breeze and he's been goalkicking brilliantly all year and supports 27 charities?"

In response to these probing questions, players have developed a number of replies. Top of the pops is "I was really proud of the boys tonight", which must rank alongside the Beatles' Yesterday as the most covered jingle in history.

There are, to be fair, certain skills required by on-field interviewers.

Chiefly, you must be decisive in identifying and capturing your target, even if the questions are indecisive. The ideal is a cross between a heat-seeking missile and Crunchy the Clown.

The undisputed world champion is the Australian league jack-on-the-box Matthew Johns, who gets on the field so quickly that he risks busting the interchange. Rather than asking questions, he bobs up and down while making statements of endearment towards every poor "mate" (that's a player) who gets in his path. Matthew Johns should forget about the microphone and take out a bunch of roses.

Johns is rumoured to train four nights a week at his local park, sprinting on the grass in his number ones while wearing headphones and carrying a microphone. It enables him to reach his targets so quickly they are simply too tired to run away.

He does a micro-skill drill on Tuesdays, rushing up to citizens and exclaiming: "You must be rapt with that bag of shopping, mate. The family are really going to enjoy eating that tonight. Enjoy the celebrations and you must be so proud of your cats."

Yet every now and then you get lines to read between during these riveting interviews, which are designed to be delivered from so close to the front line that you can just smell the heat of battle.

And such was the case on Saturday night. When quizzed by Smith about the perfect start, Umaga replied by saying the All Blacks were "very happy at the end" and delighted to have a couple of cups in the cabinet.

"We're much more than happy," he said at one stage, protesting his happiness a bit too much. Because without being prompted, Umaga hinted that crazed frustration lurked behind this overwhelming happiness due to the All Blacks' complacent reaction to a 20-0 lead.

"Obviously we must have let it off, we must have been happy with that, and decided to give up by then."

GIVE UP? It must be pointed out here that taking the foot off the throat, and then shooting it - the foot - is not regarded as traditional All Black behaviour. And when you've got a chance to stuff the hell out of Australia, it's downright criminal. And after revealing that his halftime instructions included the standard stuff about composure and playing in the opponents' half, Umaga reckoned : "It's all well and done saying these things but we didn't execute them, which was pretty disappointing."

"You could talk about the game all night," reckoned a man who did not appear to be recommending this course of action.

It was like Umaga gave an electorate nod to the Delighteds, while casting a vote for the Disappointed Party.