Last Chance Saloon: Stephen Donald

My flatmates, and consequently, my brother are the latest beings to jump on me and my pro-Stephen Donald thoughts. Yes Aaron Small, I continue to be outnumbered.

So when, at 6.40pm last night, the majority of the nation heard that he was once more an All Black, I was fairly Chesire-ish in my expression.

Forgive me for lack of technical knowledge once again when it comes to rugby, but the opinion from the Whisky Bar is what I hope can be perceived as a 'supportive considered positive stance with just a hint of healthy cynicism'...

Donald's place on the 30 man squad to the Northern Hemisphere is his last chance. Given that Cruden and Slade have definitely made their names known within the NZRFU and the AB coaching circles, there are no prizes for half-arsed performances.

Donald fell into a slump, a bigger slump than the rest of the team when he was last in black. And the expectation of an All Black is to constantly have the highest level of self-esteem, the utmost confidence, almost flawless performances. And you know what? Fair call. We want to win. Most of the time we do. At the risk of melodramatising losses, four million people suffer when 15 men adorned with a Silver Fern lose. But what is wrong with acknowledging a loss of confidence in one's self? Is it because Pine Tree would never do that? Is it because it's weird when guys start admitting they're not invincible? I think it's brilliant that Donald did what he did, and I also feel strongly that it's a bit rubbish he was out there on his own doing so, although, a crumb of kudos to Henry for stating in today's NZ Herald this:

"I felt for him because he went through a bad patch last year when we did as a team," Henry said. "But he has played the best he has ever played recently."

In an interview last year with NZ Rugby, Donald openly spoke about acknowledging his rut. Graham Henry relegated Donald to 1st Class, but has stayed in touch, and they have both been working on what points needed developing in his game. Whether that is a gritty determination on Donald's part, Henry and Smith believing there is more for us to see, or, dare I say it, a consolation prize for Donald so that he does have one more chance remains to be clarified. Donald's determination has obviously paid off in the selectors' eyes, but the cynic in me, lying just under the support of Donald, thinks that Henry sees this tour as a preliminary gig, and knows that if Donald isn't up to par, then Slade and Cruden remain available and willing for the World Cup.

Also concerning is Daniel Carter's surgery rendering him at the mercy of his specialist. The selectors have claimed the size of the squad to be tight in terms of travel, and yet have gambled on Carter being cleared to play. This leaves Donald as the first five eighth for the team. I don't want to go all soft and say it would be nice to ease Donald into the position, because I think it is a valid point to have the expectation that a player steps up immediately. What is irksome about the potential outcome is that if Donald succumbs to pressure and has a rubbish game, then New Zealand once more starts stoning the poor man. Ideally, Carter would start with Donald coming on at 55, 60 minutes, or Donald starting with a guaranteed 1st half stint and Carter running on after a wedge of orange and some Powerade.

If it was purely on betting whether Donald would ever be an All Black again after the last innings he had, I certainly would be the cat that got the cream today. To an extent, I am, but due to believing this outcome would be, I also believe Donald can do it.

Call it stubbornly backing the underdog if you will. It's not that I doubt him, I just know that he has crumbled before, by his own admission. Further to that though, everyone needs a scape goat, especially the All Black camp (and I don't necessarily mean the camp comes forward with a goat to justify a bad run, they're forced by media and by over zealous kiwis to produce one).

In this game where tactical planning, communication and the stance of every player's psyche aren't always evident, the poor kicking of a No.10, particularly that of Donald, is something that every person watching a game can identify and blame.

In short, whoop whoop for Stephen Donald, and best of luck from one of the 2 in 10 people in New Zealand who are absolutely stoked for you.

PS. Fruean and Weepu, commiserations for very different reasons. 4 years ago, Weepu deserved to be dropped. Today, he does not deserve to be having an ankle bone put back into his leg and hanging out in plaster. I also expect someone is writing the same type of article as I have above in Andy Ellis' defence/praise of return...I'm just saying here that it certainly won't be me.

Shame, shame, shame.

For the last...oh year now, I've been meaning to post another, well, post up here at my Whisky Bar. Relocating, life in general, living the good life and returning to print media has enabled me to procrastinate.

Timely then, that it is the media (and as it happens Ali Booth's and Eugene Dupain's kind words) that has finally had me go from tipping point to beating procrastination, jumping on the bandwagon and writing about, yes, Paul Henry.

I think the important thing when incidents like this occur is to try and separate emotion from argument: Paul Henry wasn't being emotional when he made those comments, he was rambling. It's easy to have an opinion, but take your opinion from the equation and it can be an interesting thought process.

The number of Facebook groups that have cropped up with Save Paul this and Bring Back Paul that and Boycott Breakfast etc etc must be heartening to Paul, if he in fact cares at this point in time. While it's a shame emotion drives people to comment rather than thinking, or at least attempting to think, objectively, I think it speaks volumes that the Paul Henry case is just the latest in what seems to be an ongoing saga of closest narcissists successfully bringing down someone who dares to push the envelope, who is unashamedly human with sometimes completely outrageous and against the grain views, someone who, overall, love him or hate him, did his job very well.

Ok, so my use of the word narcissists may or may not place me in the same non-objective group, and Paul Henry displays those tendencies as well, but unless you are the picture or piety, even if you are, you're human. You indulge every now and then. But alas, here is what I think, me, just one person, in a nation of circa 4 million:

1. The media (used here on in as a general term purposefully) have turned their back on one of their own in order to sell, gain ratings, and be part of a witch hunt. It's like we've travelled back to a place where religion dominates and if one doesn't agree or dares to be different they're burnt at the stake!

2. The media have capitalised on the fact that a little bit of knowledge is dangerous for the majority of people who take news items purely at face value. They also are very aware that people who are advocates for any kind of group/belief/stance will have the loudest voices, though not necessarily represent the vast majority of opinion.

3. The media are just as small minded. Three pages, the first three pages no less of the New Zealand Herald one day last week were full of Henry related news. It's a vicious cycle! I'm all for knowing about national news, but current affairs globally do also have a relatively high level of importance. Dare I say it, a little more important than a radical news anchor. Further to the three pages of news on the affair, it is worth noting the following:

i.Paul Henry has worked in some devastating areas with World Vision.

ii.He has worked as a foreign correspondent in conflict areas of the world. He has seen some appalling human behaviour. Such behaviour that would put misplaced comments at the back of anyone's mind.

iii.Henry travelled to the Republic of Congo to search for a New Zealand hostage. Anyone who researches merely by typing in Google "jungles of Congo" will read about terrorists and militia that frequented those joints.

4. Paul Henry said things that were wrong to say on public television watched by thousands of all walks of life. Fact. They were comments of a racist nature and were inappropriate. Fact. But Paul Henry is also the kind of person who, despite making/because he made outrageous calls, did his job above par. Made people smile. Made people wet their pants with laughter. Forced politicians to answer directly. Showed that he had no time for people that behave cold heartedly. But most importantly, the reason why Paul Henry made outrageous comments about others is because he knew full well he could laugh at himself. He knows what people think of him from one end of the spectrum to the other. I ask you this- if you are well educated, have enriching life experience, and can laugh at yourself as well as accept that others are going to laugh at you or disagree with your points of view, then aren't you the best kind of person to spark debate, make others think, make people stand up for what they believe in as opposed to pig-headedly bringing others down purely because they don't conform to what some people believe to be acceptable?

5. Paul Henry is a middle class white guy. Middle class white people make ridiculous comments that are thoughtless. Is this an exclusive generalisation? Of course not! Regardless of who you are, your ethnicity, your beliefs, there is no excuse for it. But when have middle class white people ever been the subject of racial ridicule? When Carthage was a world power?! When travelling to places like Eastern Europe, Africa, Asia, India, middle white class people may be stared at, pointed at, laughed at. Not to be ridiculed, but out of intrigue. The study of other humans that don't fit what you deem to be 'normal' is intriguing business.

6. There are people around the world who thrive on protesting, arguing, bringing people down, smugly enjoying the falling of one's reputation. It's hard to stomach the thought, but it is true.

I might be wrong about it all, but it is one opinion here, one set of thoughts. If Paul Henry turns out to be an openly proud racist bigot, I'll admit I was wrong and eat my hat.

See you later!

L.

PS. From Paul Henry's diary in Tibet, and fitting I might add for the current news:

In order to expedite the scribing of my daily mytherings I have created, and intend to patent a very clever and never before thought of scale. On my scale of 1 to 10, 1 is always shit and 10 is always marvellous, thus 5 becomes the average state of mind for a very dull but painfully satisfied human being. (Please God never let me be a 5). Diary quote from: http://www.everyhorizon.com/paul.html

Pearl Jam Pearl Jam Pearl Jam

Eddie Vedder vici! Playing with Ben Harper in Auckland last Friday

I don't think I can, need to, or want to word it better than Scott Kara, particularly when mentioning the performance of Black as being poignant and the fabulous guitar solo that was happily extended by the band and greatfully received by the audience on Even Flow, but oh my goodness, Pearl Jam was just as I'd imagined. I have been waiting for so long, so so long, and now it has been and gone, and I am still not quite aware that I've seen Pearl Jam live.

But as waxed lyrically about in a previous post, Ben Harper and the Relentless 7's live version of Lay There and Hate Me was one of many cherries on top of the performance at Mt. Smart. It made me even more happy to be that woman that loves the blues...it was amazing to see Ben cranking on the slide finally, it was actually Beth Orton's Stolen Car* that first introduced me to the technical side of Harper, and it was just such a thrill to see him in action!

Until next time, have a great week!

L.

*Apologies for a) the lack of slide solo and b) the fade out of this version.

a Golden Rule for Powderfinger

''If you had your time over again, would you do it all the same, down
through all the twists and bends...'' - Powderfinger: 'Sail the Wildest Stretch' from the new album Golden Rule

Powderfinger have been at my side since around 1998. Initially it was involuntarily that their music was on my radar. Internationalist came out that year, but I wouldn't discover the entire album until 2003. The Day You Come was a favourite with the then ubiquitous Triple J albums.

But what's not to love about these Aussie rockers? Named after Neil Young's famous tune Powderfinger. Poignant lyricists. Modern rock'n'rollers. They are unfailingly passionate about music and dedicated patriots of Australia. Policitical when politics needs a shake up, dedicated to causes that support humanity: "musicians have a guilty conscience in general about their lives being quite good and tend to be aware of social issues" (Bernard Fanning, Nov. 07).

These blokes have integrity. Having been at the centre of a few racial outbursts (the Black Tears we hear on Dream Days at The Hotel Existence is not the Black Tears that Fanning et al penned for original studio sessions...apparently a bit too political for the record label), from what I have read and heard over last decade, Powderfinger tend to be fairly level headed when it comes to defending their stance on politics, and in particular indigenous issues in Australia. But that's for another post...

I suppose what I adore about Powderfinger really does come back to the music. They clutch onto the blues, (particularly with Since You've Been Gone which Fanning wrote for his brother) singing with a voice that captures heartwarming and heartbreaking moments. There is conviction in songs like Who Really Cares (featuring The Sound of Insanity), Love Your Way and Up and Down and Back Again. Waiting for the Sun, the opening track to the album Odyssey Number Five (2005) and Vulture Street's 2003 single On My Mind make rock'n'roll accessible to those who enter the realm with caution. Powderfinger, when I first 'discovered' them, was almost too 'heavy' for me. This was clearly before I stopped listening to the radio and ventured into the depth of grunge and dabbled in the tastes of my older cousins and friends back home.

When it was announced the lads were playing at the Big Day Out, I a) presumed an album was about to be released ('shib!' I screeched) and b) made the call to attend my first (and no doubt last) Big Day Out in 2010.

Golden Rule is...interesting. The opening track El Camino De La Muerta reminds me not of Powderfinger but of Ray La Montagne's Meg White before turning into some sort of instrumental 30 seconds of Tourism Australia music. At 42 seconds we are then launched into classic Powderfinger- Bernard coming in a few bars after that distinct sound the lads have developed with basic electric guitar and brassy drums. They have these rather confronting lyrics that still have room for compassion. A Fight About Money at the moment disappoints me. It's reminiscent of late model Snow Patrol and that hideous Save the City blah blah blah rubbish. Sail the Wildest Stretch though returns to the ballad-that-builds-to-a-peak that the guys do so well, while closing title track Golden Rule seems to have drawn inspiration from Pink Floyd. Bernard maintains a slight monotone in parts that reminds me of the Time's 'quiet desperation is the English way', and Poison in Your Mind harks back to the hiatus driven solo album of Fanning's (Tea and Sympathy)...a really pretty sub 3 minute track that you can't help but repeat 3 times over easily! Think it Over has a feature in music that sucks me in every time- a choir of sorts coming in half through the track. There is nothing so uplifting as a chorus of voices to lead you in to a little guitar solo. In this case there's a cute little marching drum beat as well, and the whole end of the song is quite an experience!

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All in all, I guess Golden Rule is well timed for summer with its release. I'm not sure it's the best effort from the best band of our time, but blind partiality is probably a vice of mine at times, and Odyssey Number 5 changed my life, as did Tea & Sympathy. Well, that's an outrageous claim, but it is these two albums that are dearest to my heart.

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I'll let you guys discover the rest of the album in peace!

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Until next time,

L.

The Family Reunion

It's very rare at the age I'm at to hear about someone being unable to make a gig or party because they have a family reunion. A wedding, sure. Another birthday, again, heard of. But what about the family reunion?

Several times over the last couple of years I've been in conversation with various friends and they've casually dropped in a retrospective yarn on their family reunion.

"Ah...hold on, when was this reunion?"

"I told you I was going, it was a couple of months ago now, in Hokitika*"

And this is why family reunions are fairly quiet affairs...to the outsiders. Being 25 and heading to Hokitika on Labour Weekend with relatives? You'd have to pull a front and feign dread. But on the inside, what a weekend you're about to have!

Usually held in small towns, the family reunion takes up a lot of time for the organiser and or the host. Somewhere along the line a budding genealogist has gotten all excited about some WWII documents that attribute Uncle Ian* to being part of Hitler's downfall* and all of a sudden 6 other cousins exist in Te Puke* and yay! Time to celebrate. You get the core relatives on board- the favourite aunt and uncle and the cousins you've spent your growing up years with, the second cousins that you've long dropped the 'second' from, tell everyone to keep Easter 2011 free, start arranging Grandad's transport and hey presto! A reunion is shaping up.

I had a memory flash this morning of being 11 years old, woken up by my dad at the bach around 4am, handed a t-shirt and told gently to get up and get ready for our roadtrip down to Te Kuiti. For the untrained eye, this t-shirt was merely a plain white one, the size 10 girls version of Dad's XL. But for the family geeks, the back of the t-shirt, emblazoned in bright blue was...a short version of our family tree**. I was more excited about the promise of a pie for breakfast. Steak and cheese at 5.30am. Sweet deal.

Anyway, the folk in Te Kuiti absolutely adored us. We were matching father and daughter AND we were being fashionably informative. It's a bit vague, but I do remember some characters- a couple of the children my age went to my school; bloodline connections- awesome.

At every family gathering, there's the gangly teenage kid wearing all black, the thick as thieves sisters-in-law that married brothers who have ousted another brother*, the cool older boy cousin, the cool older girl cousin, a couple of newborns and finally the great great grandmother everyone fusses around now that the great great grandfather's passed on, left this earth etc.

But when you talk to Grams* you realise she's played her cards right: onto it, full of good yarns and knowledge, perfectly able. There's usually a glint in the eye somewhere that lets you know she knows she's on a cushy number at this family gig. It's merely her ability to hit 90 that's gotten her full privileges such as first to the food table and evading the "HELLO! My name is...." sticker.

What was exciting for me a kid though, before I went through the brief 'that's so uncool' stage before returning to being all about the family, is just listening to people like the great great grandmother. I let everyone else fuss. You learn not only about your own family and the prior generations that contributed to your makeup, but also the area in which they grew up, raised our grandparents and parents. For me (on one side) it's the King Country/Waikato districts. I think what's particularly special about these regions is the richness of a pioneering spirit that is still very much in the air today.

It's not unique to New Zealand, think Otago, the far North, East Cape. We're lucky in New Zealand to still be able to see areas where virgin bush was only cleared recently to develop farms, or see buildings that were the original structures when towns like Piopio (population wise is Piopio a town...?!) were established. It gives you a wider sense of your place (I want to say 'in the world', but it will be reminscent of those cheesy Otago University ads. Flag.) within the family and how you came to be where you are now.

I suppose what's great in this day and age is the use of the net: families have their own websites for posting photos, while it's a bit jock-ish, it does bode well with keeping in touch, and Facebook and Skype as well help the world seem more accessible.

Enjoy your next family reunion...I can't wait for ours!

L

*not true. Not the names, the events, the locations. None of it.

**very true. So true. It became a pyjama t-shirt very quickly.

One: hundred and sixty kilometres. One: lake. One: hundred thousand toes on feet pedalling round Taupo...

It's only SIX DAYS until around 10,000 riders take off around Lake Taupo in the 160km epic event that includes the ever so long Hatepe hill and scenery that's likely to whirr by around Kinloch and Acacia Bay...the Lake Taupo Cycle Challenge

Good luck Dad! Is this the 4th or 5th time now...

Until next time, and, of course, good luck to everyone getting amongst at the Great Lake next weekend.

L.

Awkwardness from the ground floor up...

Long before tension pre-empted the inevitable union of lovers in elevators on Grey’s Anatomy, a characteristic of the human condition that is awkwardness has plagued, no doubt, every one. Every single person in the world.

Being awkward is such an intriguing notion. Anything can throw you if you're not prepared. Intimacy, a backward comment, pallor that is odd, obesity, disabilities, a bandage on the face, seeing your victim of drunken texts the next day, week or year. Confrontation. Wanting to avoid confrontation. Turning up to an event (this is more a female situation) wearing the same dress as someone else. Seeing an article of clothing you've just donated to the op shop on the person next to you in a cafe. Disagreeing. Saying 'Jesus', 'Jesus Christ' or 'For Christ's Sake' really loudly when you really shouldn't. Failing to convince someone of innocence. Being caught dashing from the bedroom to the bathroom (or vice versa as the case may be) naked. Lifts and elevators.

I find it hilarious. Even when walking into a lift with your best friend, and another party joins you in the 1m² area (if that at times, more in others) silence prevails. All of a sudden it’s rather interesting that there is a stock standard emergency phone. And a small digital indicator letting you know what floor you’re reaching/passing through. Your shoes get a good eyeballing from everyone else in the lift.

It's only life experience with lifts and elevators that tell you this because you too, have your eyes cast downward, qucikly making the transition from floor to ceiling and not daring to pause in between.

What’s weird however is that the longer the ride, the more bold people are with what they look at. Peripheral vision gives the mind a heads up as to whether they’ve got a chance to quickly glance at your profile, your hair, your lipstick, your face in general. But in confined spaces, it's almost as if the person you're about to check out knows you're about to check them out. Curious, they too use their peripheral to check you out and low and behold, EYE CONTACT. 'Shit', you both think 'they've seen me looking at them'.

It’s like being on the tube but not. At least in London people just stick to themselves or their copy of The Independent (great paper)- it’s always one of those Tier 3 rites of passage- learning how taboo it is to, well, breathe on the tube isn’t it- anyway. Lifts.

My pet hate is being in the lift with a guy, age is regardless. The lift hits ground. The doors open. As a fellow human being, you make the polite gesture of allowing them to go first, but as a female you naturally expect that they allow to exit first. But. THEY DO! What on earth is that kind of behaviour? That makes me wish I'd purposely made the joyride with me even more awkward. Crikey those men deserve a slap. When I'm in a more..delicate...mood, I'll mouth 'after you' behind their backs.

Enjoy your next ride in the lift...

L.