I’m saying Sayonara to the Sevens this weekend and vacating the capital to escape.
Call me the Grinch if you must, but it seems the Sevens has turned into a reason to wear a tasteless costume while consuming copious amounts of the sponsors’ product. Glimpses of the game between beer bongs and the groping of others happens occasionally.
This so-called “rite of passage” shows us a snippet of what is so good about New Zealand, and what is not so good.
The festival feel always kicks off with a parade down Lambton Quay. The teams wave and smile while standing on a trailer. They are accompanied by bands, cultural groups and dancers and the crowd cheer and support from the sideline.
This year, the parade was opened and closed by the New Zealand teams. The world champion women led the procession, holding up high their cup. There was no music for them. There was no banner for them. There was no announcer for them. I cheered anyway. A couple of teenagers looked at me sideways and were uninterested when I told them about how awesome the team was. It’s great to see the women included, but they are world champs! Let’s treat them like it!
Following behind were the referees (who had their own banner and announcer) and then the rest of the teams. Samoa got a big cheer and so too did the New Zealand Army Band who led the Kiwi men’s team at the back of the parade. It made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The New Zealand team represent what is good. They are strong, competitive, and agile. They are world leaders and positive role models.
The vibe was electric and everyone – both spectator and participant – looked like they were having a good time. It would be great if this joyous vibe would stay. Instead it is drowned in a sea of beer, vomit and debaucherous behaviour when the games start.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a good party like anyone else. But I also love rugby. As a Kiwi, it is part of my identity. I grew up on a healthy diet of it. I love all forms of it and when I was asked to go to the Sevens last year I jumped at the chance.
My friend and I rustled up a rather sedate costume and headed to the stadium early to get to our seats and enjoy the opening games. It was fantastic. We got to see some of the best players in the world side step, tackle and score outstanding tries. Then the hordes arrive.
We tried upgrading our tickets to the rugby zone to escape the drunken zombies. We wanted to sit with like-minded people who enjoyed the rugby. There were tickets available, but those at the stadium were not willing to allow us to swap and pay extra to sit in there. I see this year the zone is sold out, and it is no surprise.
Sponsors’ advertising shouts at you every step you take. Advertising blasts over the big screen, hoardings surround the ground, and inside signs for beer are every metre or so. There is no escaping alcohol. Within hours the floor is littered with bottles and bodies start to pile up on the concourse. Some sleeping off their overconsumption. I have never seen so many empty alcohol bottles in my life.
Along with the over consumption, regurgitation was also a common occurrence. In the aisles, in the toilets, next to the toilets, on people, even in the train on the way home.
Drug taking and sexuality explicit acts were also present. The toilets were littered with little bags that illegal substances come in. I saw young girls trying to be “cool” by mixing alcohol and drugs together. That is not cool, it’s just plain dumb. A young man sitting next to us offered us E.
“Busy hands”, as I refer to them, also happened a lot. We were sitting behind a group of guys dressed as Chips (the cops, not actual chips) and every female who walked passed got a quick pinch or smack to the butt. The guys also dangled their bits, and they encouraged women to do the same by singing “tits out for the boys” whenever a female appeared on the big screen. Quite often the women would oblige.
The organisers of the Sevens are trying to make it more accessible to families, but if I had children I would not be exposing them to this.
Unfortunately the combination of alcohol, costumes and poor behaviour is a dark blemish on what could be an outstanding sporting event.