D’habitude, le matin, je consulte la presse française sur internet. Exceptionnellement, j’ai regardé ce qui se disait du côté de Wellington. Je sais que c’est pas beau de se moquer mais ils étaient tellement persuadé d’être des dieux sur le stade que je voulais partagé avec vous cet article du Stuff. Et plutôt que de taper le ballon avec Zidane à Marseille, il aurait fallu bosser un peu plus messieurs les Dieux ! Et Adidas ? Vous y pensez ? Vous pensez aux millions de $ investis sur le mythe des All Blacks ? Moi pas lol ! Impossible is nothing !
A drunk Kiwi staggers up Cuba Mall, wields his wine bottle and slurs “French bastards” to all who will listen.
An angry drinker rips off his All Blacks jersey and jams it in his backpack, not needed for another four years. Across Wellington, the mood is as gloomy as the weather – it is a city in mourning. The bars are eerily quiet. Pre-match excitement has made way for depressed disbelief – how could this happen?
James Nattress reckons it is a cruel God that would let the All Blacks be thrown out by the “dirty frogs”.
“I can’t believe it, to be honest. I bought up steaks and beer for a post-game barbecue, but I can’t be bothered now. I’m gutted.”
Instead, he nurses a beer at JJ Murphy’s and glares at the ebullient French across the room.
Pieter and Malou are beaming. The couple are remarkably cheerful considering the game they just watched could have ended in divorce. Malou is a proud French women, and Pieter a Belgian All Blacks supporter.
Pieter is gracious in defeat.
“Ah well, it will keep Malou happy, I suppose. It was a really great game, so I enjoyed it anyway.”
Over at Southern Cross, Frenchmen Rene and Rejes are not so philosophical. The combination of 8am beers and an unexpected win have sent them skyrocketing. Rejes closes his eyes and belts out the French national anthem at the top of his voice.
“We are very, very happy,” explains Rene.
“We didn’t see the win coming, until France got to 13-all and all of a sudden it went crazy!”She says there was an awesome atmosphere until the All Blacks shock loss, when the bar went suddenly quiet.
“Everyone slipped away so fast; I have never seen so many sad faces.”
At the next table, a Kiwi agrees to discuss the defeat on the condition of anonymity.
“At the end of the day, the French has more passion, and they played with more passion. Compared with French supporters, we’re a pretty quiet bunch, and that probably doesn’t help.“The All Blacks played to a formula, and when things turned against them, they didn’t know what to do. They lost it. Because they’re not flexible enough, they just didn’t cope.”
Back on Cuba Mall, the mournful melody of U2’s Sunday, Bloody Sunday rings out from a shop front.
“Damn right,” a passer-by mutters. “It’s a bloody Sunday, alright.”
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