Bevan Rapson: Otago Stadium answers the prayers of all southern men

Amid the crowds of impassioned England and Argentina fans at Otago Stadium on Saturday night, you could pick the occasional shiny-faced Dunedinite, gazing in happy wonderment at the scenes around him.

Here he was, in wintry early September, watching rugby. In street clothes. Had he died and gone to heaven?

Back at Carisbrook the crowds used to be comprised of tanked up students feeling no pain on the terraces and, in the stands, huge bundles of assorted vintage textiles, each with a frozen body at their centre.

Multiple layers of oilskin, tweed, Fair Isle, suede, cable-knit, lambswool, flannel, corduroy and Viyella still couldn't keep out the Otago polar blast.

Somewhere at the top end of these bundles, just under the monstrous woolly hat that only a partially-sighted South Island Nana could have knitted, could usually be observed a frost-bitten nose with a drip on the end and, above that, a pair of querulous eyes.

"Why haven't we won the Ranfurly Shield for so long?" they seemed to ask. "Why no Super rugby success? Why don't brilliant young players arrive from Hawkes Bay on a conveyer belt like they used to?" And, most of all: "Should we really be risking hypothermia just to watch a game of rugby?"

You have to share their delight at their new stadium, a cup spin-off that generations will appreciate. Generations of ratepayers will be paying for it, too, but even the stadium's critics must concede that it has delivered a much-needed shot of feel-good to the city.

There's still no Ranfurly Shield or Super rugby title but as the old sign behind the bar used to say: "The impossible we can do today, miracles take a little longer".

In Auckland, the cup spin-off has been a revamped stadium that provokes more mixed feelings but also long-awaited access to the downtown waterfront. Aucklanders are clearly thrilled to finally be allowed beyond "the red fence".

Unfortunately we can't all fit down there at once, although on Friday we gave it a good go.

In that heaving mass in Quay St, it felt as if the authorities had lost control, that crowd pressure might push revellers lemming-like into the harbour. Thankfully, people kept their heads and perhaps the powers that be have learned some lessons.

On Saturday night, with most people inside watching the game in Dunedin, the police were highly visible on nearly every corner. Some of the spottier ones looked like they had been press-ganged from a local scout troop, but you get that.

At the Ferry Building I saw a couple of people in wetsuits. Secret service? The French up to their old tricks? No, just the official kayakers off to patrol for stray lemmings.