FOR YOU YOUNGSTERS IN THE HARBOUR TEAM AND IN THE STANDS: MACDADDY HAS A MESSAGE FOR YOU ABOUT THE AUCKLAND GAME ON THE 27TH.

In two weeks' time, we face the Scum. I hate Auckland and I reckon there's a few people out there - youngsters mainly - who don't understand why. I know you young fullas don't like history. I'm not much of a fan either. Who gives a shit about old shit? What did old shit ever teach us, anyway? On the other hand, I've already had a few beers tonight, washed down with six Laphroaigs and a Glenmorangie chaser, and I'm in the mood to share some of my wisdom, so just you fucking well listen to your Uncle MacDaddy.

In 1984, Harbour was formed ('85 was our first season, in Division 3). Between 1984 and 1994, as befits a young, fledgling union, we were brash and full of vigour. Auckland was the older brother: stronger, wilier, more successful, holding all the purse strings, arrogant. The only difference between Auckland and an older brother is that we fucking hated them. Genuine hatred. We had to hate them more than anyone else because people thought we were Aucklanders. In 1989, the Local Government Act deemed us a city so that finally, legally, we weren't Aucklanders.

Our relationship was encapsulated by our respective #10s and #12s. At 10, they had Grant Fox, a hugely successful, boring-as-batshit first five-eighth who never made a mistake, scored two tries in a test career spanning about thirty six thousand matches, took 90 seconds to kick a goal, kicked at over 90%, and sent every cunt to sleep doing it; we had Frano Botica, who sparked games into life with moments of brilliance, kicked at about 80%, then fucked off overseas when he saw he wasn't going to get a look in. At 12, we had Walter Little, one of the greatest inside-centres of his generation - revered by the likes of Aussie Tim Horan, also one of the greatest players to pull on a #12 jersey, and by Laurie Mains, who claims that one of the biggest mistakes of his early tenure as coach was not to play Walter more often - who could turn games with a shimmy. They had Bernie McCahill. McCahill was a nice guy who just happened to be a bit shit.

Anyway, for ten years we fostered this hatred and it culminated in that final at Onewa Domain when we lost the game, but managed to create one of the most hostile rugby environments outside of the 1981 Tour that this country had ever seen: fights, heaps of arrests, beer-can throwing, portaloos upended with fans inside, and Eric Rush - he's the guy on Sportscafe who sits on the couch - complementing us by getting himself sent off following what can only be described as an assault on one of the Scum players (that after he himself had been sconed by one of theirs). A couple of years later came franchise rugby, and we were told to put aside regional rivalries. Most of you young fullas did.

Our North Shore dads and granddads were Auckland fans, so Harbour was either their second team or a passing interest. For most of you under 34, Harbour is a team to support during the NPC before we join with Auckland and Northland for the Super 14. However, for those aged between 34-45 and for a handful of others, this is our season. We're not fucking stupid, mind. We know we'll never recapture those heady days of hatred. All we're asking for is a bit of spirit. Give us this game, and I'll forgive you for all the turgid shit that's preceded it.