I lived in Palmerston North for four years and I didn’t find it boring; however, I’m not from Spain and I grew up in Foxton, so Palmy was the big city and rather exciting. Good old Palmy gets a bad rap again.
The thing about this tournament that amazed me was the number of fans who watched the games who weren’t New Zealand. There was a real feeling of world unity.
When New Zealand beat Norway, a feat no one seemed to expect, the whole country dared to hope we could go all the way. What a great feeling.
It didn’t last very long, unfortunately, and then we did what all good Kiwis do — we turned our support to our friends over the ditch, Australia. Isn’t it funny at times like that we really do feel very close to them (especially because they were doing better than us).
I played football at secondary school. My father was an All White and both my brothers represented New Zealand at age-group level.
My hope was some of that pedigree would rub off. Unfortunately not.
I got booted in the shins early on in my illustrious football career and was then rather reluctant to tackle. Apparently, that’s a key component of the game. Clearly, I needed to take a concrete pill. I thought it best to hang up my second-hand boots and concentrate on racquet sports instead.
Dad tried his best to come along and support me but I was next-level bad at it, almost embarrassingly so, so I think there was relief all around when I went into early retirement. My prowess, or lack of it, is now a source of great hilarity at family dinners.
Clearly, I wasn’t made of the stern stuff the women we have all just been watching were made of. What athletes, but what a long way we’ve come.
I really did find it incredible that the country got behind this tournament the way it did. It’s inspired a new generation of footballers, which is great.
Anything to get kids off social media and devices and into sport. Hopefully, they will all be better than I was at the game and remember to wear shin pads.
