Try: D Johnston
Pen: M Delany

Rotorua is a tourists' city so it is appropriate that I was given a personal korero by one of the local tangata whenua. I made the mistake of traversing a pedestrian crossing at a speed he deemed unacceptably laboured and he took time from his pressing schedule to wind down his passenger seat window and inform me that I should "f**king walk faster", further personalising his mihi with the honorific, "f**king c**t". Such encounters serve to make a visitor feel welcome but more importantly give a first-hand experience of the joys of living in this engaging provincial town. Signs of such harmony were on display everywhere: the young Maori boy who, under the watchful but passive eye of his father, smeared his greasy fish-and-chip hands all over the expensive coat of a pristine, middle-aged N.Z. European lady who may or may not have had a rod stuck up her arse but who, regardless, had every right to be pissed off; the picture-perfect Aryan family of four who watched with horror the antics of some young Maori skateboarders 40 metres away. ("It's shocking how they're allowed to enjoy themselves AND be brown," rumoured the facial expressions, as they sheltered little Michael and Amber under their concerned parental wings).

Rotorua doesn't deserve to have some of the most fantastic tourist attractions in the North Island, but it doesn't take much notice of what it doesn't deserve. This is important because before I got there I was prepared to feel sorry for yet another town that has in recent years been bottom-raped by the NZRFU in its drive for greater efficiency in the rugby marketplace. Sure, the Vegas of the Southern Hemisphere got a Lions match but it was more, one suspects, part of an insurance plan in the greater excuse not to give Rotorua any more big games ever again. Rotorua in 2010: "Can we have a Super 12 game against a bigger union, please?" NZRFU - "No." Rotorua - "But we never get big games." NZRFU - "Bullshit! We gave you a Lions match." After my 'first contact' exchanges and observations, I decided not to feel sorry for Rotorua. It has every reason beyond matters rugby to be a happy place, yet there is an overhanging gloom about the place and just a hint of racial tension which I'm sure is simultaneously the fault of "all those lazy Maoris", "all those bastard stuck-up pakehas", and all those "bloody Asians". Tauranga is much nicer. Give them all the games until Rotorua sharpens its act up.

We played quite badly for long periods of the first spell. McAllister looked ordinary, the forwards toiled without doing much, and it was with some fortune that we went into the break leading. Then it started to piss with rain which was, naturally, a clarion call for our brave lads to start throwing around like a Polynesian sevens' team. Except, it worked. Passes stuck, pick and gos stuck, and the flankers snaffled us heaps of ball which was especially surprising because for the first 40 minutes I didn't realise we were playing any flankers. McAllister cut out the dopey Carlos-kicks and started running at and beating players. Rua and Tuitavake strayed over the offside line repeatedly and got away with it, and Heaven help us all, Zar Lawrence scored a runaway that showed that he actually has at least one talent - speed. As he hared 50 metres downfield, he actually took time to turn around and smile at his opposite number who seemed pedestrian in comparison. All that was left was for Adrian Donald to come on and start some fights, which he did with customary aplomb. Then he scored a try but we feel he didn't do the honorable thing and publicly humiliate the Bay forwards - something to work on, AD. By the final whistle, we'd dished out the kind of spanking Renee Chignall and Peter Plumley-Walker would have been proud of had the latter not died horribly of S&M-related abuse. A good night's work all round by the lads, who continue to tantalise the faithful with promises of semi-final spots. Is it our turn to be the non-franchise-base team to make the semis and thus justify the rugby union's approach to nurturing talent? I doubt it. Waikato'll hump us next week and we'll be back to business as usual.