On Friday I attended a one-day international between the Black Caps and South Africa at the Bay Oval in Tauranga. I was lucky enough to be calling the game with The Alternative Commentary Collective. It's a beautiful new cricket venue with the Mount sitting majestically in the background.
At the gates I noticed a bunch of ICC signs reminding the crowd not to be racist. I would hope most people in New Zealand know they shouldn't be racist.
Even racists in 2014 know they shouldn't be racist. But the International Cricket Council has made it one of its priorities to stamp it out at games. So, rightly, grounds are asked to impose severe punishments for indiscretions.
It got me thinking about how little of that kind of behaviour I see these days. None of my friends is racist. In fact the only racist I know is my 5-year-old son. Last week we were getting some cheesy mite scrolls from Baker's Delight. My boy stood in the middle of the shop staring at the man behind the counter. He thought long and hard and then yelled "I don't like that guy's skin, Dad, it's too chocolatey". The comment hung in the room like a bad smell. There was no way to gloss it over. I apologised, grabbed the scrolls and ran.