Tag Archives: Bunty Afoa

Speed

Pop quiz, Warrior Nation: You’re heading to the Gold Coast with your season on the brink of self-destruction, and when the whistle blows you’ll face a Titans team just as desperate as you.

What do you do?

You know that when you’re at your best, you can match it with anyone in the NRL, but the moment you take your foot off the pedal, bad things happen.

What do you do? Continue reading Speed

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Seven Minutes or Less

As I sat in the rain and prepared myself for the final game of the season, all I asked for was an enjoyable 80 minutes. I wanted something to give me hope that 2017 might be different, some sense that next year — the real next year rather than the promise of ‘next year’ — might come close to living up to expectations. I hoped to witness a group of players fully committed to give something back to the fans who braved the weather to watch them one last time in 2016, a group of players who respected the efforts of Thomas Leuluai enough to send him out on a high note, enough to have him kicking a goal from the sideline as time expired while the Mt Smart faithful stood as one to applaud.

But, most of all, I just wanted to smile.

Continue reading Seven Minutes or Less

Not Just Any Given Sunday

Everything we have done has led to this moment. Since February we have braved whatever the winter weather could throw at us. We’ve absorbed blow after blow, and there have been casualties — this is the nature of what we do, the price we must pay. We’ve travelled to foreign lands and fought ferocious battles in hostile territory. What we do is not easy.

There have been ups:

Continue reading Not Just Any Given Sunday

Saturday Night Fever

It takes a lot to get me dancing. A wedding maybe, or a whole lot of liquid courage. I certainly don’t dance outside, especially not in the pouring rain and almost never among 13,000 strangers. Those days are long gone.

Or so I thought.

But sometimes things happen to your body that are out of your control. You move without thinking because instinctively you know it is the perfect way to move in that moment, the exact way you are supposed to react to the events taking place around you. One minute you are hunched over in your seat, shivering as cold rain drives into your face like arrows from a crossbow, the next minute you are thrusting the person next to you up in the air in a vice-like bear hug with enough force to lift a small car. Seconds later, you can’t feel your legs, your entire body is warm despite being soaked and you have to remind yourself where you are and what just happened or you’re likely to pass out.

Continue reading Saturday Night Fever