Frank Greenall: Power of sport hard to grasp

VICTORY: Jubilant Japanese rugby fans celebrate during the match in which their side humbled South Africa. PHOTO/AP 150920190544

ENOUGH to make a Voortrekker choke on his biltong ... the mighty Boks humbled by a bunch of pink and white Japanese Blossoms in their first game at the Rugby World Cup. Although probably the hardest chunks of biltong to swallow were the bits that tasted suspiciously like kiwi. No surprise, given that nearly a third of the team on the paddock hailed from the land of the rugby enemy the Boks love to hate.

Prior to the image massagers moving in, the Brave Blossoms were known as the Cherry Blossoms. With this sensational breakthrough win, the whole country can tip its hat to their original name and now feel very much the Cheery Blossoms. Very cheery!

The match was a watershed on the wider canvas as well. It's provided one of those rare breakthrough psychological moments where a second-tier competitor demonstrates how a dreadnought can be taken out with the right application of strategy and commitment. The after-match press conferences summed it up. Cheeky Blossoms coach Eddie Jones and captain Michael Leitch affirmed how they'd been working on the game plan ever since the draw was made two-and-a-half years ago. And the Boks' principals lined up in their prehistoric gold-trimmed blazers trying to rationalise the unthinkable.

The other heartwarming aspect of the game was in the quick cuts to the Japanese spectators a second after the final whistle had blown - men and women in various states of ecstasy tinged with disbelief. But particularly poignant was a shot of an elderly chap unashamedly bawling like a 3-year-old in the realisation of his team's seeming miraculous achievement. It spoke volumes about the special power sport has to play in people's lives.

At just about any level, any sport can be dismissed as a futile - if not totally meaningless - exercise in vapidity. "The unspeakable in pursuit of the inedible," as Oscar Wilde described the venerable pastime of fox hunting, but which could apply to any number of so-called sports. Huge quantities of time, energy and resources expended chasing balls of varying shapes and sizes - and to what end exactly?

Mountains of sweat, angst and emotional discharge unleashed every Super-15 Series, but six months down the track people hard pressed to remember who won the previous year.

Take golf. A $70 billion-a-year industry in the US alone - not far off New Zealand's total annual budget - with an overall economic impact three times that. All revolving around coercing a hard and often maddening little white ball into a small hole in the ground. In the course of a round of golf, no crops are grown, goods produced or parsnips buttered. But indirectly the worldwide economics of golf eclipse the national budgets of half the countries on the planet. Hmmm. And we haven't even started talking about football (soccer), tennis, cricket, basketball, American football et al.

Why we invest so much time and energy in sport is a big and valid question. It may be something to do with sport providing a medium to vicariously live out our dreams of cutting a heroic figure vanquishing all, or triumphing against the odds, or cunningly outwitting a competitor. Or that sport's clearly prescribed black and white rules and conduct are a welcome respite from the messy real world of ill-defined human relationships and ambiguous behaviours. Or that competitive sport allows us to tap into reservoirs of national and tribal and psyches to the extent that elderly men will cry like babies when their team snatches a miraculous victory. Or that we simply appreciate the demonstration of the skills necessary for advanced level chasing around of balls of varying shapes and sizes.

In fact, it's such a big and vexing question my head is starting to hurt already. Excuse me. All this sporty stuff is extremely tiring. I think I need a lie-down before I ponder on it a bit more.