2011 was the year you could say ‘it’s all happening’ and be right. Earthquakes. An election. A world cup. What didn’t happen? Here’s a quick round up.

Rugby World Cup
As a nation, New Zealand did the vacuuming, put the sausage rolls in the oven and hosted the rugby world simply and well, despite the haters and grandstanding, which became less and less important as we went. As for the rugby – well, we bloody won it, didn’t we? Two months on, you only have to show me Graham Henry’s post-final-win-eyebrow gymnastics or Richie McCaw being eye-gouged and I’m glowing like those folk in Cocoon.

Beating the Aussies
After a world cup (remember that) where we did our lose-in-the-semi thing, That First Win In Australia Since Ever was an epic of fingernails on the floor. It was hard to know what kind of NZ cricket team we had post-captaincy switch (alright, it’s ALWAYS hard to know what kind of team we have), but the Tasmanian fightback showed we had some real heart – and hope for the future. Bring on the South Africans.

Super Tottenham
I haven’t mentioned them much on the site, for fear of jinxing them. After missing out narrowly last time, Spurs are quietly having a brilliant season and look very much at home in the top four. Ask me more about how it’s going after we beat Chelsea this morning.

Le Tour
One of the best and worst I’ve seen – worst because of the first week crashes that took Wiggins et al out – best because of the slow burning drama and eventual, worthy winner. Cadel deserved his win for the way he rode, and the way he’s ridden over the last few years. He won’t do it again though, and I hope for a few more fireworks next year. It’s been a fantastic year for NZ’s cyclists also, the folding of Pure Black Racing aside – hoping for a big medal haul on the track in London next year too.

Man of the year
Well, who do you reckon? Stephen Donald is a bigger folk hero than Bob Dylan, his journey from whitebaiting to world cup winner was more beautiful than an unattended burger restaurant. The whole country got the Beaver fever and I couldn’t have been more pleased. Here he is resting on the beach or my little tribute.

sportreview.net.nz highlights
A new daughter, other family stuff and employment related madness meant I’ve not been able to give as much care and attention to the site as I’d like – but I’m still proud of how it’s gone this year. I’ve done some of my favourite rugby writing ever on the back of the world cup, with the brouhaha over the jerseys beforehand, and the nervousness against Argentina, beating Australia in the semi, the final the highlights for me. Drinking was a reoccurring theme over the year, with the All Black selectors getting drunk and this little number about alcohol abuse in the north of England.

Twitter, obviously, is where all the former sports bloggers are hanging out these days – and most of the athletes. It’s possible to go from abusing someone on the field to abusing them on the internet in no time nowadays. Two twitter related posts: for the cricket and for the rugby. I love Powerpoint (even thought it was a slow year for sportreview cartoons) and loved this.

Of course, most thanks go to you, mysterious readers. This site is obviously a little labour of love, I do it for no other reason than I enjoy it thoroughly. sportreview.net.nz is the kind of crappy NZ sports blog I would like to read if this one didn’t exit – it’s extremely heartening to know others enjoy it too. Thanks, appreciate it.

Other stuff:

My top five listened to songs, from last.fm:
1. Harry Nilsson – Lullaby In Ragtime
2. Robyn – Dancing On My Own
3. Robyn – Indestructible
4. Joni Mitchell – Car on a Hill
4. Harry Nilsson – Always

I’ve done bugger-all film watching or reading this year. Drive was the best (only?) (current) film I saw at the cinema, and I’m working my way through Peter Guralnick’s Elvis Bios. TV wise, I’ve really got into Game Of Thrones, Breaking Bad and Community. I’ve also thoroughly enjoyed the Discourse NZ podcast. All recommended.

Wishing you a happy and more settled 2012 – see you next year!

 Photos:

Me and Dan. I told him how gutted I was for him, but also how stoked I was for Stephen Donald.

Best rugby ground in NZ, still. Tremendous atmosphere for all three matches I went to there.

Eden Park felt like a proper international stadium during the RWC. Let’s hope they keep those temporary stands somewhere handy.

Future Tour de France champ.

Sportzfreak and the Beige One have blogged on Fill The Basin, Sunday afternoon’s benefit match for viictims of the Canterbury earthquake. Here’s my thoughts:

How much fun was it? Cricket is the perfect sport for This Kind Of Thing, not too much physical exertion for the oldies, and lots of space in between the action for farking about. Plus Adam Parore got hit with a bouncer while being a cock. That was a highlight.

Some of these guys could still be playing for the Black Caps. The Greatbach / Astle partnership in particular was as smooth and brutal as a gang fight in a butter factory. That said, the years haven’t been kind to Gavin Larsen’s bowling. Nor Sir Richard’s, who doesn’t play a lot these days, unlike Ewan Chatfield, who still turns out for his club “if they haven’t got enough players.” Bless. Tana Umaga, though, that guy could play for the Black Caps *now*. As could bloody Marc Ellis.

You there! This is what your hair looks like!

Subtle Rexona product placement.

Our PM smiled and waved a bat at Shane Warne’s friendly bowling, but good god; as a nation, we need to improve our banter. Ben Hurley struggled manfully to lift the standard, but John Key – is “Liz says Hi” the best you can do? It’s hardly “I can smell the uranium on your breath” is it? It doesn’t even make sense. Warne showed us how it was done with an offhand and off color crack about the TradeMe prize winner’s wife – the crowd went quiet as they tried to work it out. Warne’s a great sport, we couldn’t have asked for a better heavily botox-ed pantomime villain for this event. He needs to bowl his underarms a bit straighter though.

The whole day, complete with the perfect venue and rugby and Hobbit luminaries, was a raging success, not to mention a tribute to Stephen Fleming’s mana, determination and political and organisational skill. Surely there’s a role for him somewhere in the national setup in the near future?

I do have two grumbles – the TAB made their beachhead in the nation’s living rooms even bigger with their guy Mark Stafford doing much of the TV interviewing. He may be able to ask softball questions OK, but do you want or accept Goldstein or the Marlboro Man doing the same? I don’t, and I don’t see the difference. And, Ian Smith’s mean-spirited, un-funny comment about Geoff Allott still bothers me. Fuck off Ian Smith, you dreary know-all bore.

The Guardian has a list of six JFK moments, the ones so significant that the where-you-were and the who-you-were-with is tattooed (JFK moments are often painful) permanently on your brain.

So what are New Zealand sport’s JFK moments? Here’s a few to get started, and where I was at the time; get into the comments and tell me what I’ve missed.

1930 Phar Lap wins the Melbourne Cup – not born

1956 All Blacks beat South Africa: “I’m absolutely buggered!” – not born

1960 – Peter Snell wins in Rome – as above

1983 Graham Thorne presents the Cricket from Australia with a perm – watching sportreview sr. pissing himself laughing, not fully understanding what a girlyman ex-All Black Thorne was making of himself on the national box with this unexpected, bold hairstyle choice

1985 Coney and Chatfield hold out Pakistan at Carisbrook – bouncing up and down on the couch in Hamilton, about as excited as a 12 year old could be

1995 “The America’s Cup is now New Zealand’s cup” – down at the Viaduct, in its pre-Viaduct incarnation at 8am on a Sunday morning, with half of Auckland, seemingly

1999 The greatest fucking Rugby comeback of all time – in a Cricklewood flat in cloud of stunned silence with a mate. We didn’t go to the pub to watch, assuming we’d be there next week for the final. I’d spent about eight months talking the All Blacks and their ‘fast, mobile’ pack up to work colleagues. The croissant on my desk on Monday bought a lump to my throat

2006 Tana Umanga’s handbag goes for twenty odd grand on TradeMe – at my desk, head in hands, rocking gently back and forth

Saturday at the Basin may turn out to be the most blogged about day ever, with Hadyn, and Ben doing write ups, and Robyn filing a n00b report. Here’s how my day went.

Day one went fantastic for the Black Caps, who dismantled India’s star studded batting order like a 21st marquee due back at midday. The sun shone, and we had one more wicket to get at the close before getting stuck into the (big) total.

Day two. I walked into the Basin for the first time ever just after 12. After saying g’day to Graeme and son, and holding my breath through the field of bad vibes and disturbing weirdness that surrounds Sonny Shaw (don’t explore that site at work, team), Hadyn and I, and soon Dan were parked up on the bank. For those of us to used to ramming our knees behind a plastic Eden Park seat, stretching out on the grass was a real treat. The Basin Reserve is a fantastic park, the  elevated view from the requisite down-the-ground angle gives a great perspective.

Then we started watching Cricket, possibly the down point of the day. To me, the crisp (I’m being nice) breeze made it tough to bat, but just as tough to bowl in, especially into into the breeze. Ross Taylor was quietly playing to the conditions, waiting for bad ones and putting them away with sweetly timed on and off drives. No-one else wanted to do that, and our top order used the walk from the sheds to the pitch to the sheds again like a revolving door.

Ryder was more interested in staging a one man outlandish helmet exhibition than batting, much to the disgust of bloggers staying up late in the UK, and was soon back in the sheds, followed by pretty much everyone else. It was depressing, slow going – this Indian team may be full of rock stars, but they fuck around between balls and overs like Keith Richards trying to change a string. The over rate was disgraceful, and made the day tough going at times.

The tail enders weren’t about to let the crowd turn blue without getting their money’s worth, though. Every blogger’s favorite Ian O’Brien got his highest test score in front of his home crowd, while Chris Martin, yes, ‘Learn to Bat‘ Chris Martin hit Harbhajan back over his head for four. Good on him.

The final potential high point of the day was watching Sehwag knock it around, but turned to custard as Martin claimed him after only a couple of token swipes. From then it was shut up shop time until, I admit, we sneaked off early with beer and a heater top on the list.

It was one of those days that add to the purists’ sense of worthiness, but despite that, I thoroughly enjoyed it. The great company of all the above, plus Fraser and Robyn, a couple of beers and great conversation made a challenging day’s play for Black Caps fans go by too fast. I was hugely impressed by the Basin, especially the ‘let everyone run around at the lunch break and smack balls at each other’ policy, and can’t wait to come back.

I have to note that I arrived in the capital Friday to a stunning day and extremely kind welcome from the Wellington digerati. I’m not sure if it’s the strong coffee or daily caviler laughing in the face of earthquake-induced certain doom, but the capital has easily the warmest web / community spirit around – the locals were incredibly welcoming of Auckland based half-arsed sports bloggers blowing in for the weekend. I even got free beer in classy surroundings. Ta.

I can’t stress enough the *awesomeness* of meeting up with the *actual people* we’re reading / writing to / twittering with over the intertubes. Let’s not forget it’s about connecting with people – there doesn’t always need to be a modem involved, eh.

Why not use your work’s A4 and color printer to send these cards to family and Facebook friends this Christmas?

Sorry for the ‘review being quiet lately – it seems one of the pre-requisites of a sports blog is *blogging*. I know. Here’s what’s been happening while real life has got in the way:

Not content with making those ghastly NZ Cricket uniforms, Canterbury have done a WStar (who still have S. Fleming and L. Vincent on their homepage) and released a shoddy ‘shaft the Beige Brigade’ shirt. This is cynical bullshit of the highest order, NZ Cricket gets a HUGE amount of free publicity, enthusiasm and goodwill from ‘ver Brigade, and deliberately cutting their lunch is unbelievably low. So – avoid this shit quality (and the shirt itself IS shit quality) cash-in like an Australian plague and DO NOT BUY! Go to the Beige‘s site and get a real one.

When me and a mate were trying to name the 1987 WC winning XV, John Drake was the last name we came up with – I only knew him much better as a commentator and columnist. I rate him alongside Tony Johnson as NZ’s best. Almost everyone paying tribute said he ‘had interests outside Rugby’, which is a sign of sanity.  We’ll miss his thoughtful, forthright style in our house when Stu Wilson starts levering foot into mouth again next season.

Iain O’Brien’s blogging on Cricinfo now, and while JRod bemoans him jumping ship, it seems that Cricinfo are re-blogging Iain’s blogspot site, not the other way around. As Emma Hart said on Hadyn Green’s PA discussion, ‘I was listening to O’Brien getting the hell bounced out of him that day and thinking, wow, can’t wait to read his blog about this’. Too right.

Cockfighting aside, there’s no crueler game than golf – it was excruciating to watch Hamilton’s David Smail mess up the Australian Open yesterday evening. Brother of sportreview has played with David, and even with a hugely successful career in Asia, he’d have wanted to nail the Australian Open to go with his NZ Open. Still, Smail handled himself with dignity throughout, in that situation I would have definitely vomited.

Ben from Mike on Cricket now has his own pad @ Crucket. Get in there.

Sorry I missed Links on Friday this week. If I’d got around to it, the Wunder Boner would have probably made the cut.

SRPA: The Auckland Regional Council was left red-faced when star attraction Izzy, the 1996 Atlanta Olympic Games mascot, delivered dismal crowd numbers at Mt Smart stadium on Saturday.

The ARC bought Izzy, a computer animated character with the ability to morph into different forms, to Auckland to play an exhibition football match between the ‘MonstaBurga Izzy All Stars’ and the ‘Boobs on Bikes ARC Stars’. The match finished 0-0.

Headcount was estimated at between nine and ten people, pushing out to thirteen if quadrupeds are included.

ARC spokesperson Simon Flashpen said “Sure, you can nitpick that the players outnumbered the crowd, but Izzy’s zany antics really delighted the dozen or so mammals there.” Flashpen denied the match was a shoddy third rate copy of Mr Blobby’s successful Invercargill visit.

The Tour of Southland had snow and hail on today’s stage – TV3 video here. Makes wussy part time cycle commuters who don’t fancy a bit of rain look even more wussy than usual. Ahem.

If you love sport, there’s nothing like walking into a new stadium – reaching the top of the stairs, seeing the field and getting all excited in spite of yourself. I’ve been lucky enough to go on sports adventures home and away – here’s my top 12 stadiums, ranked in totally subjective order, based on factors like how *thrilled* I was to go there, the matches I saw and, erm, how drunk I got.

*Click the images to make them bigger*

12. Croke Park
This is Ireland’s national stadium for Hurling and Gaelic Football in Dublin, and is a gleaming, modern stadium for these quaintly traditional sports. The atmosphere is rabid, but friendly, kind of like NPC Rugby when it meant something. It’s up there with Twickenham and Old Trafford, and has real history.

11. Carisbrook
I got to experience that scarfie atmosphere for an All Blacks v South Africa test in 1994 – it was the Boks’ first time back since the Apartheid ban, and they shamefully refused to face the Haka, instead lining up to sing an old anthem to the grandstand. Bad move.

10. Lansdowne Road
Lansdowne Road is a bag of shit when you’re soaked through watching Ireland make hard work of beating Andorra in a largely meaningless World Cup qualifier on an open terrace. It’s better watching Richie McCaw make his All Black debut on a gloomy afternoon with yer mates over from London. It’s best, though, watching underdogs Ireland beat 6 Nations favorites France in bright Autumn sunshine, the crowd going absolutely crackers. Afterwards a bunch of Irish cricketers took me to a pub that looked like someone’s house, it was so packed that pushing the front door open disturbed drinkers pressed on the other side. My All Blacks jersey got me shouted several pints, and later that evening the 25 minute walk back to Rathmines turned into about about an hour’s stagger. The Irish *really* know how to enjoy a day’s Rugby – we could learn a lot from them, team.

9. Old Trafford
5-1 win over Wimbledon with Beckham wonder goal. Did the tour, and had a good nose through the super store, but passed on the pencil cases and duvet covers. It’s a magnificent stadium.

8. Lords
Parents were visiting wayward son on OE, and Dad wangled a Lords press box ticket through his correspondence with Jonathan Agnew, on what turned out to be the old press box’s final day before the move to the 2001: Space Odyssey-style new one. There was a little speech. Middlesex were playing someone or other, but no-one was too interested – the scribes were busy stuffing their faces at the buffet and wiping the crumbs with their ties. I didn’t get any scornful looks from anyone in a B+E tie, which really disappointed me for some reason.

7. Sydney Cricket Ground
New Zealand beat Australia, and having put up with sheep noises all day, I was a very happy Young Guns fan indeed. It’s a great place to watch cricket, and a real thrill to visit having seen it on telly for all those years. The best bit’s not having to put up with the Channel 9 commentary team, though.

6. Twickenham
NZ v England 1999 Rugby World Cup. Twickenham is a vast, imposing, deeply impressive stadium worthy of that ‘HQ’ label. Maturely, I chose my one and only visit there to be as drunk as I’ve ever been at a game (with possible exception of Waikato v North Harbour shield defence. Ahem.) After mid morning pints at a Richmond pub, two companions + I got off the bus busting for a slash. After bow-legged sprint across the road we found some keen All Blacks fans in a park smoking something suspicious. We got in the ground with about 10 minutes ’till kick off and elbowed in to get Guinness, two pints each. We reached the top deck, only to be told we couldn’t bring the pints in. We looked at each other. Fuck. Six skulls later we were there. HQ. It’s massive, and still had that funny little stand at the open end of the horseshoe. The locals weren’t impressed with having loud, pissed Kiwis on their turf, especially ones that could barely stand up at about 1.30pm, and were keen on making their presence felt. Two guys from Whakatane in front of us shared a hipflask of something home made, and it’s fair to say we weren’t feeling much pain. I can only imagine what we sounded like in Hamilton in the dead of night in obligatory half time calls home. Lomu scored, we had a win to celebrate, and we streamed out full of the confidence of All Black fans in the in the early stages of a World Cup. I remember slurring to someone on the tube home that “Us Kiwis. We’re not good winners. We’re not good losers, either”. How apt.

5. Wembley
Anyone who ever got up with a Milo for the FA Cup final, or laughed at Prince Charles’ Live Aid dancing had to see the twin towers on their OE. I saw Sean Fitzpatrick’s last test v Wales there, and Michael Owen’s England debut in a Chile friendly. My fav Wembley memory, though, is going to see Arsenal play Barcelona in a Champions League match, and missing a Rivaldo goal by refusing to stand up for the Gooner fans’ incredibly witty ‘Stand up if you hate Tottenham’ chant. Fuck ‘em. New Wembley looks amazing too.

4. Seddon Park
When I was a boy, I’d race around Seddon Park armed with Hadlee Hits Out or similar, demanding  autographs off visitors Ian Botham, the Chappells and Greg Matthews, as well as Richard Hadlee, Geoff Howarth, Lance Carins and any number of other heroes. When I was a student layabout, I spent one summer in particular at tests against the Aussies and West Indies, sat out for five days each on the grass banks, with mates, perfect weather, Sports Roundup on the radio, and a replay screen a languid twist of the neck away. We’d bowl back to one guys’ flat around the corner at the breaks to listen to music and play back yard cricket, even though we could probably have still got away with a tennis ball match on the field itself. Doesn’t get much better. It’s a perfect test match ground, and has had bloody crackers one dayers lately – I hope this dedicated Cricket ground keeps getting the fixtures it deserves. I can’t wait to take sportreview jr before too long.

3. Waikato Stadium
Going with me Dad as a boy, 1992′s ‘eye gouge’ NPC final, seeing Andrew Merthens, 12, taking the shield off us… I loved the old Rugby Park and miss the wooden terraces and big-cowshed-main-stand, but the new Waikato Stadium is easily the best Rugby watching venue in New Zealand now. The family was there for the opening match v Canterbury, and already I’ve seen NZ Maori beat the Lions, Waikato beat the All Black laden Canterbury side 59-41, and the Chiefs make the semis by beating the Brumbies. The routine now is the comfortable main stand if I’m with the family, and the bogan / student packed ‘Green Zone’ if I’m with the chaps. Either way you get great atmosphere, a fantastic view and beers easily.

2. Eden Park
A top three:
3. All Blacks v Wallabies 2008 – that crushing performance. Everyone loves seeing Aussies crushed, don’t they?
2. New Zealand v South Africa 1992 Cricket World Cup. A typical performance from that mad, crazy summer when we swaggered through the round robin in a very un-New Zealand-like manner, taking the best sides in the world to bits all over the place. We got them for not much, and our openers laughed at the 3.8 required, with Rod Latham punching drives at will, while Greatbach seemed intent on putting every ball on the roof of the main stand. The most exciting Cricket match I’ve ever seen live.
1. Waikato v Auckland 1994 Shield challenge. This was the 61 shield defense Auckland of Fitzpatrick, Fox, the Brookes and Kirwin v the Waikato side of Gatland, Mitchell and Foster. And we bloody did them. There were 45,000 there, and I think we saw most of them on the motorway on the way up. With five minutes to go the PA crackled “Would the crowd please stay off the field at the conclusion of play.” Not bloody likely, we all ran on to see Mitch lift the Log O Wood, and danced around on the green, green turf like a pack of school kids let out fifteen minutes early. Magic.

1. White Hart Lane
I was at my most Tottenham-rabid when I set off on the OE, so getting to the Lane after seeing it on TV upteen times was pretty special. Between 1997 and 1999 I got along seven times, unfortunately co-inciding with Alan Sugar’s Tottenham at its’ most dark and dire, smack bang in the Christian Gross, Ruel Fox, Alan Neilson, Steffen Iversen, scoreless draws with Wimbledon, George Graham era. There was an awful lot of shit football. The upside? Seeing David Ginola play, the French sticking plaster on Sugar’s mess. His goal v Chelsea was the best moment I saw live (I  was sitting with Chelsea fan Nick in the Spurs end, he had to suppress his celebration when Goldbaek did this in the same match. You can probably see us in the crowd behind the goal). The best match atmosphere was seeing George Graham bring his Leeds side to White Hart lane amongst swirling rumors Tottenham wanted him – he copped terrible (or excellent, depending on your point of view) abuse from the Spurs lot AND the Leeds fans, and we equalised in the last minute to draw 3-3. There was also the UEFA cup tie v Kaiserslautern, with the home fans chasing the supporters’ bus up the high road, and the German fans  taking their shirts off en masse on a cold London night. It’s compact and intimate stadium, and easily the loudest I’ve ever been to.