Watching my grandson play at Mt Smart Stadium this weekend was another proud moment—another milestone in his young life. Seeing him up on the big screen as he ran away for a try in the Warriors’ opening game was special. He’s only six, but he’s already taking in the atmosphere of a big stadium like it’s just another weekend game.
It brought back memories of Sean Johnson’s debut. My daughter had work that night, and I had tickets through my workplaces sponsorship contract. Johnson, a local school lad wasn’t the biggest guy on the field back then, and early on, he took a brutal hit from a couple of Australian forwards. A tough introduction to professional league, but he shook it off and kept going. That resilience took him far—he went on to become one of the legends of the game.
That night, One Direction—the UK boy band featuring Harry Styles—appeared on the field. They weren’t performing, just standing there, maybe a publicity stunt. The crowd barely reacted. Sports fans here weren’t exactly boy-band enthusiasts, and I doubt One Direction cared much for league either. My daughter had wanted to see the band on tour but I couldn't afford tickets to the sold out show, so she was envious of missing them because she had worked that night. Their appearance was brief, quickly forgotten when Johnson got the ball, took off down the field, and scored his first try for the Warriors. The stadium erupted, and everything else faded into the background.
Sport has always been a huge part of life here, but thinking back to my own childhood, it was a different experience. If you wanted to watch a game, you had to see it live no matter what time of the night or day. Going to the stadium was a privilege, and if you missed it on TV, that was it—you had to read about it later. No recordings, just word of mouth and newspaper clippings. But big games always meant parties and gatherings—watching sport was as much about community as competition.
Music, on the other hand, hardly got the same coverage. Maybe 30 minutes of hits on TV, a late-night radio-with-pictures show, and that was it—until MTV finally reached New Zealand, long after the rest of the world had moved on. New Zealand didn’t have many stadiums to host global acts, so when big artists did come, it was an event. You showed up ready to meet your tribe—the ones who lived and breathed the same music.
New Zealand has a proud sporting history, but it wasn’t like there were many other options. You were either sporty or bright. If you did art, people assumed you weren’t that sharp. The things we grow up with shape our beliefs, whether we realize it or not.
This weekend, we found ourselves back at the stadium after watching our little star do his thing. The energy was great, but as the rain started to come down, we weren’t so keen on sitting it out. Some fans barely seemed to notice the weather—dedicated enough to stay soaked for the full 80 minutes. My son and I, though, decided we’d had enough. The hard-core fans could sit it out, but we were happy to head for a dry and warm finish to the night.
Fast forward to today, and my grandson was the one running down that field. The stadium looked incredible, lit up with dazzling lights, but as the players took their places, I couldn’t help but think about that first brutal hit Johnson took—it was like a rite of passage, a test of resilience.
One thing I noticed—very few of the boys were wearing headgear. My grandson has one, but he finds it uncomfortable, so he doesn’t wear it. He’s only six, and he’s already had a few head-high tackles. I do worry about his head—brain injuries in rugby and league aren’t uncommon. His dad says headgear doesn’t make much of a difference, his Koru agrees, and being from a family of league players, their stance is firm.
I’ll talk more about headgear in my next blog post for Runaway Thoughts, but today isn’t about that—it’s about celebrating a great moment.
The things we grow up with—the teams we support, the experiences we have, the moments we share—shape how we see the world. Catch you next week in Nanny’s Corner—in the meantime, remember: Be the star of your own story.
