KEY POINTS:
Thousands have written in, or would have if they'd thought about it, asking for some words of comfort in their time of need. How, they ask, are we to cope with the pain of yet another catastrophic World Cup loss?
And I sympathise, I do. I feel their
pain. I know some people think we should get a grip, and that there ought to be more to our fragile sense of national identity than a game of rugby, but it seems almost un-New Zealand not to feel a sense of loss. After all, when a radio reporter recently polled New Zealanders on the question of whether we'd rather have world peace or the World Cup, quite a few of us opted for the latter.
So go ahead and wallow. Be my guest.
Even my 14-year-old doomsayer who'd predicted defeat (in an attempt to soften the inevitable blow) was too stunned to crow. "Sometimes," he said in a text to his cousin in Wellington, "'I told you so' just doesn't cut it." His cousin replied, with only slight exaggeration, "I need time to be alone with my grief."
Pity the All Blacks, who weren't granted such dispensation, to curl up in some dark corner and lick their wounds. Instead, still reeling in disbelief from their shock loss, their stricken faces mirroring the thousands at home, they had to front up to their public to answer questions they themselves were still dealing with: How could this have happened? What went wrong? The crushing weight of expectation had turned into the crushing weight of bitter disappointment and unfulfilled promise.
It's just as well then that New Zealand's rugby faithful have taken it all so well. How good to see that after 16 years of unsuccessful world cup campaigns, we've learned to take our losses with a dose of maturity and an absence of blame and recrimination. There's been a barrage of bilious emails and letters crucifying the young ref, the players, and the coaching staff.
Veteran sportscaster Murray Deaker was characteristically restrained, too, when he called the All Blacks "boofheads" and said we were a dumb rugby nation (which, if he's right, makes you wonder how those dumb All Blacks got away with winning every other trophy worth having). The most grown-up reaction was from a group of Wellington primary school children interviewed on TV3's Campbell Live, who displayed a greater sense of perspective and maturity than many of the adults. "You lost," said one boy to his heroes, "but you're still my favourite team because you've played well and you've won a lot of good games."
Still, a grieving nation can be excused a little overreaction and grief experts tell us that overwhelming anger and blame are a natural part of the grieving process. So, too, is agonising endlessly over what might have been: if only we'd had a decent referee, if only the ABs hadn't waited so long to attempt a drop goal.
Nobody died, it's true. It's not the Third World War, as Graham Henry reminded us and himself. It's not a death in the family. It's sport, for goodness sake.
But it's no use pretending that it didn't hurt, that we weren't feeling the effects of plummeting from the giddy, smug heights of almost certain victory to the gloomy depths of humiliating defeat. When that final whistle blew, the day lost its colour somehow; we felt flat and grey, like the ABs' uninspiring silver strip. At the supermarket, there were men walking listlessly around the aisles, looking dazed and unkempt, trying to remember what they were doing there.
That's the first stage of grief - numbness, shock and denial, as in when we tried to convince ourselves that it was all just a nightmare and we'd soon wake up and watch the real game. Counsellors say it's important to come to terms with the loss, to work through feelings of bitterness and blame which may get in the way of moving forward. It's also important to postpone major decisions (like calling for the coach's head) until people are less emotionally fraught.
It's important to be sensitive, too. Those of you wondering what all the fuss is about should try not to flaunt your indifference. Avoid saying "it's just a game" and that the Cup is going to "a better place". Accept your distraught friends' need to vent emotions and go on ad nauseam about that forward pass.
Eventually, most people recover, but it can take weeks, months, sometimes as long as four years for the healing to be complete.
As my teenage nephew puts it, "Even the mighty are defeated and have to wait another four years."
And if all else fails, there's always world peace. It might be more achievable.
