New Zealand International Sevens

Festival Location: Wellington, New Zealand

Festival Type(s): Football Tournaments | Football Events, Ball Sports Events

New Zealand International Sevens Media:

Sevens Heaven

By: © Dan Coxon 2009

The Westpac Stadium is affectionately known as the Cake-Tin, and given its circular shape and steep sides it's easy to see why. It opened in January 2000, and boasts all the modern features you'd expect from such a recent development. It is little wonder that the Wellington Sevens have been such a critical and commercial success with these excellent facilities at their disposal.

As I approached the Westpac ticket office I became nervous. There were already hundreds of people queuing up outside the main gates, most of whom had booked their tickets in October or November last year. It seemed infeasible that I should be able to walk up to the counter and collect a ticket I'd paid for over the telephone yesterday morning. Against all the odds, however, I emerged holding a pair of tickets to the Wellington Sevens. I hurried to the gates as quickly as possible before someone tried to steal them off me.

The queues hadn't subsided at all while I was at the ticket office, but at least it was a sunny day and I had some time to stare at the weird and wonderful costumes on display. Even though it was still early in the morning the temperature was rising, and I suspected that the man who'd come in a suit made out of bubble wrap would regret his decision by the afternoon. I was equally concerned that the group of four boys in nothing but boxer shorts and black body paint would be shivering in those very shorts once the sun went down.

Once I'd made it through the gates I managed to find my seat easily enough. It was already shimmering slightly in the heat, and I seemed doomed to blacken and melt like an Action Man under a magnifying glass. Fortunately I remembered a friend telling me that everyone swapped seats throughout the competition, so I moved a few rows back into the shade. Hopefully by the time anyone claimed this space my own seat would be a little bit more sheltered.

The first match of the day was Argentina versus Tonga, by no means a crowd-puller but tightly contested nonetheless. I used the opportunity to slip off to the bar, and returned to my seat ten minutes later with a couple of plastic bottles of beer. I was used to the alcohol-free policies at Scotland's home ground in Murrayfield, and these bottles of Lion Red lager felt like a luxury.

To my right were a group of Polynesians dressed in blue doctors' gowns, with the word 'Doctours' emblazoned across the front. It soon became clear that they would be one of the main attractions for the day, as a couple of them walked between the rows offering free sunblock to all the spectators. One balding fan even had it rubbed into his scalp for him, although it was all done in such good humour that he simply laughed as his head was slathered with white cream.

A few minutes later they began handing round blue hairnets for everyone to wear. I pulled mine unwillingly over the top of my cap, knowing that I looked ridiculous, but safe in the knowledge that everybody else looked at least as ridiculous as me. Eventually our entire area of the stand was kitted out with them, visible proof of the power of peer pressure, especially when combined with large quantities of beer. They also handed round home-made sandwiches to anyone who wanted them, and I gratefully accepted a chicken salad roll. As least there was no chance of anyone's hair falling into my food.

The heavily tattooed guy sitting two seats along from me leant over the empty spaces between us and tapped my arm. 'Those Doctours fellas, they're funny guys, hey?'
I agreed with him - they'd certainly kept me amused. I got the feeling that this wouldn't be the last we saw of them.

Before long a few beach balls appeared among the crowd and bounced at random around the gathered masses, occasionally straying onto the pitch where they were collected by stern-faced officials. For every one that was confiscated another two seemed to appear, and from time to time the officials realised they were fighting a losing battle and simply threw them back.

True to my expectations the Doctours didn't stay silent for long, and accompanied by loud clapping from his medical team one of them disappeared out of the Aisle Eighteen exit. He reappeared at the next aisle along a few seconds later, and once the people there were clapping in time too he disappeared once again - only to pop up one aisle further round. There were thirty-six aisles in total, and when he reached the seats directly opposite ours he received a big cheer from the Doctours, and from me. For the last six or seven aisles we clapped him home again, and when he finally arrived back at his seat a round of applause burst out across the stadium. I was sure all the clapping and cheering must have confused the players and referees, but South Africa still managed to beat Japan by fifty points to nil, so it hadn't done too much harm. I secretly suspected that a few of the South African players might have been more interested in watching him than in playing the obviously mismatched game.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of fast tries, wild celebrations and more than a few bottles of Lion Red. By the time I arrived back in my room my ears were buzzing from the noise. I'd enjoyed my first Sevens Rugby experience, but more for the people I'd met than for the action on the pitch. It was only as I brushed my teeth that I realised I was still wearing my blue hairnet.

by Dan Coxon

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