Kris Shannon gave up sleep to watch Dan Carter kick goals for 24 hours straight at Eden Park and all he got was this lousy diary.
7pm: Kickoff. Dan Carter has laced up a pair of golden boots and says he's feeling nervous. I'm feeling highly caffeinated. Apparently, we're the solitary pair making a run at all 24 hours uninterrupted. What athletes. From about 20 metres out, the first of what Carter hopes will be 1598 successful kicks sails through the posts and into the East Stand, prompting cheers from an assorted collection of Unicef staff, volunteers and ball kids. I refrain from clapping, to save energy.
7:17pm: After 15 makes, disaster strikes. The ball clangs off the right upright. Maybe he's past it?
7:45pm: Carter ain't past it. Eighty successful kicks and now it's time for a break. He has to make 66 an hour, so well ahead of schedule. In fact, he says the pace is too quick; he may have to slow down for the sake of those 40-year-old hammies.
8:08pm: Carter is back underway and the support staff has been bolstered by some familiar faces. Grant Fox is summoned for a kick; he wants the tee moved closer. Apparently those 59-year-old knees are problematic. Beauden Barrett has arrived, along with his Blues coach Leon MacDonald, and Luke McAlister completes a quintet of men who have worn the All Blacks No 10 jersey. Barrett sees MacDonald stretching, preparing for a kick, and says, "Shit, it's getting serious".
8:57pm: Break No 2. 161 down, just the 1437 to go. Someone ordered in a pizza and it's making me hungry. Time for my first break. I opt for a plum. Sad.
10pm: The music - a high-tempo collection of dance numbers one would typically associate with staying up all night - has stopped. Carter is no stranger to overcoming obstacles; let's see if he's still as unflappable as he was on the field.
10.03pm: The music is back. Alas, it was but a temporary break as Carter enjoyed some FaceTime with supporters in the Northern Hemisphere.
10.26pm: Carter hits the crossbar. He jokes: 'Is that worth double points?' Still in high spirits. My neck hurts.
10:40pm: Big cheers from a rapidly thinning crowd as Carter nails No 300. The moral support has spilled out of the enclosure - which made Carter seem like a farm animal at a petting zoo - and are now trying their goalkicking luck from a greater distance. Meanwhile, that plum wasn't quite filling enough. We'll have to change tack and go for a kebab courtesy of Raj in a white Prius.
12.00am: I am reliably informed that when midnight strikes at Eden Park the ghost of Jean-Luc Sadourny appears. The French fullback known for scoring 'the try from the end of the world' against the All Blacks in 1994, Sadourny is very much alive. But still. Spooky.
12.22am: No paranormal activity yet but the music's getting better. John Farnham is singing about someone's daughter as No 420 sails over, a real high of the evening. Carter now has a line of balls in a row, pinging over five or six in quick succession. Playing the numbers game. Canny.
12.40am: With 470 on the board, it's clearly a big deal. Carter, heading toward the tunnel for another break, whips off his shirt and starts swinging it above his head. Or at least I think he does - it's far too early to be hallucinating.
1.02am: Carter re-emerges from the tunnel and, unfortunately, has his shirt back on. Just when I thought classic rock had triumphed, the Chemical Brothers kick off the second quarter of our day. The Eden Park residents prepare their letter-writing pens.
2.30am: Only a dozen people on the pitch now, outnumbered by balls. Alive by Pearl Jam plays and we are, barely. I've changed into trackies - it's like WFH all over again only on this occasion home is New Zealand's biggest stadium. Wish I'd brought my slippers.
3.27am: Carter's right boot has been getting a lot of work lately, probably to spread the load. Similarly, I'm now typing using only my nose. He registers 750. Enter Sandman plays. Rude to taunt us with sleep like that.
3.52am:
The things you find in a deserted Eden Park at 3.52am pic.twitter.com/z7AnWazu5x
— Kris Shannon (@kshanz) April 7, 2022
4.10am: Daryl Halligan is in the house. The league great says he doesn't need to warm up, despite it being 11 degrees. He crushes his first attempt. King shit.
4.15am: Blair Tuke is also here and extremely lively. He says he couldn't miss a chance to kick goals on the Eden Park turf, even at this obscene hour. Which may be a normal hour for pro athletes? Makes me ill.
4.47am: Carter has reached the magical 800 - halfway there. As he heads down the tunnel for a well-deserved rest, Dan tells me - and I figure I can call him Dan since we're spending the night together - that he's had only one coffee. Show off. He also has a nutrition and hydration plan that he's sticking to, along with a muscle therapist and chiropractor. Dan says he thought the night "might have broken" him, but one thing kept him going.
"I'm usually in bed by 9'o'clock - with young kids that wake up at 5 or 6'o'clock in the morning, you gotta go to bed early," he says.
"I'm lucky because I've got a bit of adrenaline - I'm doing this for something much bigger than me. So when it does get tough and there's that little guy inside your head, saying, 'Just go to sleep or give up', I'm able to think about the impact I'm having on kids over in the Pacific.
"Also, to see the donations coming through as well. People donating their hard-earned cash, comments in the donations of kids saying, 'I've just donated my weekly pocket money'. It's pretty thoughtful and that's helping me get through."
Very laudable. I'm doing this for the content, but Dan still tells me I'm going well.
4:55am: Wowza, I am not going well. Hopefully Dan didn't look in my incredibly bloodshot eyes. Might be ready for a lie down. Thankfully I manage to find some empty seats among the 50,000 and set three alarms.
6.00am: The alarms work, unfortunately. I must have slept 20 minutes. More than enough to wake up feeling terrible. It's getting light and I'm extremely worried the sun may soon rise - always the worst part of an all-nighter.
7.10am: As feared, bright rays are now streaming over the East Stand. Now I understand why, since the dawn of time, man has yearned to destroy the sun. Another sign of morning is the ball kids are kids again, replacing the big kids who kept Dan and me company overnight.
7.30am: He's on 964, by the way. Almost forgot about that whole thing. Blair bloody Tuke is still here, a ball of energy. Starting to realise why this guy has an Olympic gold medal.
8.31am: Dan, overnight beanie replaced by a backwards cap, slots No 1000. Ever the showman, he first pauses on 999 to find the right song and runs through his proper goalkicking routine for the first time in 12 hours. I'm still wearing the beanie and I've yet to have more caffeine.
9.36am: My notes from 9.36 say: 'McOnie getting butt massage'. I can't entirely explain that except to say, James McOnie has joined us.
9.55am: Coffee'o'clock. There's a familiar name topping the donor list on the big screen: Ali Williams with $1666. Kinda surprised it wasn't $6969, to be honest. The techno music is back and hitting differently when the lack of sleep isn't being counteracted by…something that counteracts a lack of sleep.
10am: A little kid just drilled a cameraman in the head; this is better than anything Dan Carter has done, including the 2005 Lions series. Think I have my second wind, thanks little dude.
10.17am: Spent several seconds looking around the stadium for the time before realising my phone would tell me if I asked nicely. Anyway, Dan's every kick is now being cheered by a group of schoolboys. Where were they at 3am? #fairweatherfans #leastidonthavetogotoschoolanymore
10.29am: Dan is now at 1100 and the schoolkids are having great fun kicking goals. #stillnoschoolforme
10.52am: The first haka of the event! There must have been great odds on it taking 16 hours. I reluctantly concede these kids are cool.
11.28am: Mandarin for morning tea. Are mandarins and clementines the same? Cos if they are that song that goes 'Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling clementine' could instead go 'Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling mandarin'. Giggling in my seat/losing my mind please send help.
11.39am: Feels like I need to do some journalism. Dan is at 1160 and the fundraising total has reached $186,007. Journalism done. The best news of the day - aside from the many thousands of dollars being raised to help kids across the Pacific, I guess - is one of the shops at Eden Park is now open to sell pies and Powerade and…beer? Should I??
11.47am: I shouldn't. Jono and Ben have arrived in blazers, presumably for an Anchorman-style battle royale against the ACC guys. Think I need to rewatch Battle Royale.
12.30pm: The latest celeb sighting is Stephen Donald and Tammy Davis. Which makes me think, boy, when Dan got hurt before the 2011 World Cup, didn't the ABs have Outrageous Fortune to be able to call on Beaver?? Get it?? Cos Tammy Davis was in that show. Please clap. By the way, Dan is at 1193 and looking fantastic. Getting the impression this guy is in better shape than I, a subhuman blob.
1.12pm: Haven't seen Eden Park this empty in at least eight hours. Is the end nigh? Or is it wishful thinking and just lunchtime? Dan is in the sheds with 1209 on the board, so there's your answer. Here's another question: is it possible to sit in stadium seating for 18 hours without getting a sore butt? The answer may surprise you. (The answer is no.)
1.46pm: Sound the Richie siren!! We make eye contact as I'm scarfing a pie near the entrance to the field. This would be the most embarrassing thing to happen to me today were it not for the existence of this diary.
1.57pm: After a good chat with his former captain, Dan resumes kicking righty. He soon passes 1300. McCaw looks impressed. Just kidding, McCaw looks the same as he always does. If anything, he looks unimpressed with the drum and bass, which is drummier and bassier than ever. Some people are bopping along. People who definitely slept in a human bed last night.
3.10pm: Honor Carter and family arrive for the home stretch, replete with homemade signs of support. Too wholesome for this blob. Anagrams of Dan Carter: Dancer Rat; A Car Trend; Can Trader; Carat Nerd. In the interests of full journalistic disclosure, they came from an online generator because my brain, in case it wasn't obvious, is mush.
3.40pm: We're fewer than 200 kicks away, LFG, and most fans on the field now are related to Dan. Which leads to a rare sight: Dan sitting down. He's relishing some quality time with the baby, his and Honor's fourth son, and clearly paying no care to whiny journos who wanna go home.
4.12pm: Twitter tells me that Noam Chomsky thinks "we're approaching the most dangerous point in human history" and buddy…I feel ya. Dan's at - actually I can't see the scoreboard from this bottomless abyss, check back later.
4.39pm: 1462. That's a nice number. Also, do I have great news for the deranged Where's Clarke Gayford crowd! Unless he's not actually here and *I'm* the deranged one. Much to think about.
4:50pm: Pandemonium, absolute scenes as security appears to have flung open the gates and allowed in anyone who fancies a kick, even Andrew Mulligan. The field is packed, making me wistful for 3am. On the other hand, all these balls flying everywhere is kinda buzzy. Oh yeah, and we're over $300k. We. Dan and I. We're doing really well; shame this recap sucks. So let me say: if anyone paid money especially to read this and is still going, I promise you that my editor will refund your subscription out of his own pocket.
5.27pm: Another great Kiwi has smashed the 1500. The noise is growing in size with the cheering section. Even I feel like cheering. Huzzah! I'm allowed to leave soon! The sun has set behind the western stand and it's cold again. Foiled once more by my enemy in the sky.
6.10pm: Dan's back, the riff raff has been removed and, give or take a few pesky media interviews, this is what we've all been waiting for. Yep, this - not a chance to sleep for the rest of our sadly limited existence.
6.54pm: He's only gone and done it. The mad bastard. Dan Carter has kicked 1598 goals and helped to raise, at last count, more than $340,000 for kids in the Pacific. Forgive Dan a quiet double fist pump for his efforts and forgive my sleep-deprived brain for the first question: how does he feel?
"Mentally, I've been fine," he tells me. "The support that I've had from the public, friends and family, the generous donations that are still flooding through, that all helped my mental state in the early hours of the morning through the sunshine today.
"It's more about whether I could handle it physically, and my body has stayed in one piece. I've had a great medical team, just in case. You never know what could happen when you're doing something that hasn't been done before.
"They've been great keeping my body in check, I've been working extremely hard with the preparation and I'm doing this for something much bigger than myself.
"The next job for me is, when I can, jump on an aeroplane and get over to the Pacific and see first-hand what the money's going to be doing for these communities, healthcare centres and schools."
Before that, though, there must be something more than the fist pump planned to mark what a pretty monumental effort?
"I don't know how much celebration will be going on," he says. "I've definitely earned a cold one, but probably only one before I'm all tucked up and enjoying a nice rest."
That sounds like the best thing in the world. Either that, or staying up all night watching Dan Carter highlights on YouTube.
Saturday was hard to reconcile with what we have seen over the last two months.