What Kilkenny, Kerry and the All Blacks have in common

THEY’RE a different bunch, these All-Blacks, a different bunch also their supporters, different to us anyway.

Two weeks of dealing with the players, two weeks of following them from Marseille to Lyon and now back to Aix-en-Provence, two weeks of almost daily interviews, two weeks of bumping into their black-clad army of travelling fans, of engaging them in nightly conversation – all that should combine to give you something of an insight into the New Zealand psyche, to give you some idea of what makes them the top-rated rugby nation in the world, regardless of ultimate result in this World Cup. After those two weeks, however, I’m still not sure.

I do know who they remind me of though. Kilkenny and Kerry have often been called the All-Blacks of hurling and football – well they are. We don’t get to interview every one of the Kilkenny hurlers, the Kerry footballers, but from those who do talk, the impression almost inevitably and invariably given is, what’s the fuss all about? This is just business; we train, we play, and more often than not we win. That’s what we’re expected to do, that’s what we expect ourselves to do. You want drama, you want romance, you want colour? Go to Limerick, or Offaly, or Galway, or Clare; go to Cork, Mayo, Donegal, Dublin.

They don’t do hype, they don’t do effusive; “Yeah, he’s not bad, mate,” whether in reference to a team-mate or an opponent, amounts to almost the ultimate in praise. In their answers to enquiries about whether or not they are following the fortunes (misfortunes, as the case may be) of the big teams in the other pool games, they could be a Kilkenny hurler talking about the much vaunted Munster championship. “Haven’t had the chance,” says out-half Dan Carter; “Only following the games in our own pool,” says back-row Chris Masoe.

The world may be indeed be a vast and interesting place but when it comes to sport, these guys have a very narrow focus. It’s no coincidence that in Kilkenny, hurling is king, that in Kerry — and even with the best efforts of so many dedicated small-ball men (and women) — football reigns supreme, while in New Zealand, nothing touches rugby.

Kilkenny, Kerry, New Zealand, you are bred to win, and when you do, while you do, you can’t be seen to brag about it. Put your head above the parapet and you’re an instant target.

In other counties a player may dine out forever on his single All-Ireland medal; in Kilkenny and Kerry, even the fifth Celtic Cross collected in these past few weeks by several players entitles them to no bragging rights within their own county. Respect, yes, but that respect will very quickly turn to derision if these guys are thought at all to be getting above themselves.

And yet, they’re not a modest lot. There is an ‘Aw shucks’ element to those from all three teams, Kilkenny, Kerry and All-Blacks, but they do expect to beat you; no matter who you are, no matter your form or theirs coming into the game, they do expect to beat you.

Is it the right attitude?

Well, it’s the right attitude for them, because they can afford it. It’s often said that the people with the most money are the least ostentatious about it – so it is in sport, which is why the All-Blacks are apparently so unfussed about it all. And yet, and yet; the counterbalance to all that is that when they lose, it cuts to the bone.

I’ve met All-Blacks fans here of every possible persuasion, from the couple on the all-in first-class seven-week tour package that cost each of them 25,000, to the bunch of blokes who bought a camper-van in Belfast for £800 and hit the road for the South of France (unfortunately for them, the van died in the Alps on a day-trip out of Lyon, and they are now scattered, taking refuge (singly) in the vans of fellow Kiwis).

Without exception, they have said that the only thing that will really make their trip worthwhile is if New Zealand win.

They must win, they have to win, that’s the imperative behind this whole All-Black business. Anything less, even reaching the final, even playing magnificently but being beaten by the breaks, will be counted as failure. In stark contrast, the few Irish fans I’ve met would settle for a quarter-final place right now.

I don’t know, lads; sometimes we think that the supporters of the likes of Kilkenny, of Kerry, of New Zealand rugby, have all the fun.

But in the few seasons I’ve spent following Munster in Europe, I think I’ve had more fun than any of these lads will have had even if New Zealand end up as the 2007 World Cup winners. Munster have won one European Cup (I will never say ‘only’ one, because in time, given the serious inequities in player numbers and in finance available to the various teams in the competition, this will be seen as one of the great sporting achievements), and when this is all over, we’ll be off again.

Will we win? I don’t know, but just like the followers of Limerick hurlers this year, of the likes of Sligo in football, even the Portuguese rugby fans, we’ll enjoy the journey. Sometimes, you know, the view is better on the way up the mountain; the top is often a cold and bitter place.

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