Coronation contacted the Department of Conservation, who are advising that people should remain at least ten metres away from Stephen Donald at all times, and that dogs should be kept on a leash. “Donald could deliver a vicious peck if he feels threatened. Best case scenario is that he eventually swims back out to sea,” said a DOC spokesperson.

The residents of Peka Peka beach have taken Stephen Donald into their hearts, and are taking it in turns to stand guard. “I’d love to throw a blanket on him and say ‘Just forget about fucking up in Hong Kong, bro’ but you have to let him be. You just have to let him be,” said local hardcase Gavin McEyebrow.

Some residents were concerned about Donald’s well-being and wanted DOC to intervene – the DOC spokesperson said staff were investigating long-term intervention plans if needed, but there was not a lot they could do. “There are no facilities in New Zealand that can care for Stephen Donald long term.”

The only other recording of an All Black living on a beach in New Zealand was Alan Hewson’s stint living at Southland’s Oreti Beach in 1985.

As a leader of men, Taylor doesn’t seem the most natural, more Kim Hughes than Steve Waugh. Going for the softly-spoken, lead-by-slogging-everything-to-square-leg Taylor, as opposed to the confident, lead-by-telling-everyone-what-to-fucking-do McCullum, the Black Caps are handing even more power to coach John Wright. He’s our guy though, and he deserves a decent go – let’s see what happens.

New Black Caps captain Ross Taylor remembers mid-presser that he’d forgotten to change his bizarre-arse Twitter avatar

TV One took the chance to rake some mud, in one of the crappiest pieces of journalism in a long time according to Twitter’s Richard Boock (I agree). Reporter Anthony Stevens told shocked TV One viewers killing time until Coro comes on that Brendon McCullum was part of the Black Caps’ ‘drinking’ ‘culture’, ‘enjoyed’ by 70% of the team and that the pisshead faction wanted McCullum as captain. I bet they do – after all, it’s every young Kiwi male’s dream to one day grow up to be a Black Cap and spend long rainy days on tour in the subcontinent drinking duty free Tia Maria and playing cards. What effect the puritanical Taylor will have on this out of control alcohol abuse is unknown – maybe they’ll just  play cricket better and that. Imagine.

Everyone’s next question was ‘who’s going to be vice-captain? Brendon McCullum was no-where to be seen, texting the TV One reporter that he needed time to collect his thoughts. If we don’t take the obvious candidate, maybe we should cast the net wider – really get some Bracewell-style outside the box thinking going.

Anyway. In rugby, the Hurricanes two signed off in a fitting manner – Nonu, criticised for his tendency to pick up yellow cards, put in a heavy should charge on Dan Carter, while Hore, criticised for his drinking, drank a beer on the field. Right.

And sportreview favourite Stephen Donald has been put out of his All Black misery, clearing the way for a one way ticket to England. Henry said: “Difficult obviously because he’s been a very positive member of that group for some time. He’s a great guy to have in the team. Hugely well organised at training. We just think there are other people playing better right now.” Fair enough – go well Stephen.

Stephen Donald is the Marmite of NZ rugby – tasty to some, black death to others. His career’s misfortune is that he’s been forced to step into Dan Carter’s massive jockey’s billboard shaped shadow and attempt to pick up where the sleepy looking greatest first five ever leaves off. Not an easy thing to do.

There’s a line in Nick Hornby’s fantastic Fever Pitch about Tony Adams “struggling manfully with his limitations”. This is Donald to a tee, he just doesn’t LOOK like the most natural rugby player, all elbows and knee, excruciatingly mouthing “Focus… follow through…” as he lines up another scatter-gun shot at goal. And yet, he’s capable of moments of brilliance – in the 2009 season, he was magnificent, all kick and regathers, surging runs through the middle, consistent goal kicking… but then he went and played for the All Blacks, personally taking the blame for losing the unbeaten record in the last minutes of the Hong Kong test.

Now, he’s as popular with All Blacks fans as Richie McCaw’s ankle injury. While not yet at full Philpott level, he couldn’t be less loved if he’d run Shrek the sheep over with his tractor. That’s why I was so pleased on Saturday night when he steered the Chiefs home (alright, in wobbly fashion) to a win over the Blues. So pleased, I tweeted the crap out of it:

Very pleased. And a bit drunk.

Donald looked delighted afterwards, and I was delighted for him. No, I don’t think he’s an ideal Carter backup either (the Herald is obviously jittery), but he’s what we’ve got until someone else steps up (when Slade’s jaw is fixed maybe?). Fuck it anyway, he’s first five for My Team – and he’s done a bloody good job for us. Screw you guys. I’ll be over the moon when Stephen ‘Beaver’ Donald is free to be what he truly is: a really good super rugby first five, without the pressure of being All Black backup, before taking the money and running to England, where he’ll win three or four Heineken Cups no doubt. Don’t listen to ‘em Stephen.

Maybe he was looking for some action. Hamilton’s nightlife options traditionally taper off shortly after lunchtime, and you can understand wanting to leave a city that can’t decide if it’s happening, if it’s more than you expect, if it’s ON, or whether it’s “Hamilton – ‘gis a fucking dollar and what the fuck are you looking at, mate?”.

A Hamilton youth protest, demanding equal council facilities for up and coming Heavy Metal bands as skateboarders

The Waipa Delta in happier days – RWC organisers should note nothing says Party Central like a carvery, free Waikato Draught and a spew over the side

You don’t GET these kind of personal in your online face experiences in Hamilton, where Broadband generally means a poofters’ gumboot.

Giapo, where you can ‘tweet’ about your ‘ice cream’ and upload it to the ‘pavement’ if you’re drunk enough

L-R The “Superfreak“, the “AUGHH AUGHH THE CREEPY BLONDE FINGERS ARE MAKING A PLAY FOR MY BRAIN!!!”, the “Headlock Rasta”

The Founders Theater fountain has spoken to many young Hamilton men as they relieve themselves in its waters after a night out, but mercifully, their memories are generally wiped the next day. If you’re a pro rugby player struggling with form, fitness and 13 JD and cokes, and a fountain talks to you, you’re best to zip up and move on, not get in your car and flee. There’s no escaping the fountain, bro.

Early Sunday, my Chiefs will take on the Bulls to play for the Super 14 title this year.

It’s fair to say I’ve fallen out of love with the S14 recently, the extra teams making it an un-neccesarily long slog (have rugby administrators never head of ‘fast game’s a good game? This goes for the Tri-Nations too). But the Chiefs’ run to the final has bought me right back. After Friday’s semi final win in the fog, I may even have got over excited.

With first up losses to the Crusaders, Warratahs and Sharks it seemed like another underachieving season loomed before a long string of wins (including a narrow loss to the Bulls in Pretoria, portend fans) put us back in contention. Top of the table in fact. To take the semi spot, and make the final we had to beat the Hurricanes (twice) and the Brumbies – and we did, by 8, 3 and 4 points. Winning close ones that count is totally un-Chiefs like. It’s been absorbing and nailbiting. Not to mention bloody *brilliant*.

So now the final and the Bulls in their lair. And a pretty bloody scary lair it is too, going by the rabid fans the cameras pan across (yes, I know about people in glass houses and that). The Chiefs’ last three matches have been in Hamilton, at night, and in the wet. How we cope with being in South Africa, dry, and in broad daylight will be the test. Forget that Sivi’s out, we’ve had injuries all season and still done the job. This team has a great forward pack, a magic back three and a willingness to attack from anywhere. It’s  all orchestrated by Stephen Donald, our next All Black first five (until the other one is fit), who’s done more than anyone to get us there.

Finals are a cliche lover’s dream – we all know it’s 80 minutes of Rugby, anyone can take it on the day and full credit to everyone concerned. Go on you Chiefs, I hope you bloody do them.

Thanks to Naly for the photo.

Last year’s Super 14 was the testing ground for ‘Look, Ma, no All Blacks!’. This year we’re testing the Experimental Law Variations (or something). The players all looked like they’d been in the gym. There were some really big hits.

They’ll need to be fit, cos the new rules make the game FAST. There was lots of sevens-style chasing after the ball slowly, forcing the opposition to cover you all the way back.

There was a lot of kicking. The forwards spent much of the game wandering around the half way line like a Zombie hoard while the full backs and wingers played force back over their heads.

The Chiefs have a great team – Mils, Sivivatu, Anesi, Kahui, Donald, Leonard, Messam, Gibbes, Luaki, and Willis… that’s a really solid spine, with some real experience tucked in there. The only thing we’re missing is a couple of massive, hairy props, which is strange, as Waikato teams are usually renowned for its great hairy props.

Eden Park seems to be taking the threat of cinemas seriously in it’s bid to retain the title “Biggest, evilest rip-off merchant of the year, Food and Drink”. I’ll review the items one by one.

- Chips – these are OK. Still. Four bucks.
- Battered Hot Dog – Horrible, pitiful, pitiful amount of sauce, and a round stick. A round stick just seems wrong.
- Fish and Chips – I’d rather have gravel and chips than pay $8.50 for fish and chips at a rugby ground.
- Calamari and Chips – No way. Just… no way.
- Soft drink / water – Jesus, don’t leave yourselves short, will you?

Overall, it was a fun, low key night out, and Eden Park is not a bad place to be of a balmy February evening. The Blues will do well this year, and it’s only early days for the Chiefs. It did make me feel I need to make the most of what’s left of this summer, though.

While I’m there, I’ll fire some insight (heh) through to the Sportsfreak. Their live blog of game two was a real larf and got picked up on the Guardian’s blog.

Actually, I’m just hoping to see the lights. I’ve been to two day night matches where it’s been all over before they’re even turned on. Come on, England!

Then on Saturday night, it’s Eden Park again for the Chiefs v the Blues. They will play a game called Rugby, you may have heard of it. Surreally, it’s that season again, seems like only yesterday I was wallowing in a black hovel of despair… Still, it’s not going to go away, and as much as I hate myself, I’ve got a nagging curiosity, and I’ll be interested to see the New Rules. I’ve got no idea what they’re about. It’s going to be a shambles. Nah, it IS far too early to be watching Rugby, isn’t it?