Wednesday night was one of those nights. A re-run of that awful movie that’s screened far too often in cinemas throughout Warrior Nation in recent years. The opposition seems unstoppable, the men from Mt Smart can’t make a tackle and the game is lost before you’ve really registered what is happening.

It was a horrible night, one that brought back so many awful memories of seasons past. Six years of failure all rolled into one continuous loop of missed tackles and knock-ons. A never-ending collection of heads in hands and shirts pulled over the eyes and the frustration and the tears and the doubts and that feeling you get what you think it must be your turn to experience that winning feeling and it doesn’t seem fair that you can care this much about something and try so hard to give it everything you’ve got, to dedicate your time and money to something you can’t control without experiencing the joy and the absolute ecstasy of seeing all your dreams come true. It doesn’t seem fair.

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