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RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL – SEPTEMBER 06:  Holly Robinson of New Zealand poses after being named as the flag bearer during the New Zealand Paralympics Rio 2016 team welcome at Paralympic Village on September 6, 2016 in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.  (Photo by Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images for the New Zealand Paralympic Committee)
RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL – SEPTEMBER 06: Holly Robinson of New Zealand poses after being named as the flag bearer during the New Zealand Paralympics Rio 2016 team welcome at Paralympic Village on September 6, 2016 in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. (Photo by Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images for the New Zealand Paralympic Committee)

SportsSeptember 8, 2016

An Olympic achievement – why Rio is ideal for the Paralympics

RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL – SEPTEMBER 06:  Holly Robinson of New Zealand poses after being named as the flag bearer during the New Zealand Paralympics Rio 2016 team welcome at Paralympic Village on September 6, 2016 in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.  (Photo by Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images for the New Zealand Paralympic Committee)
RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL – SEPTEMBER 06: Holly Robinson of New Zealand poses after being named as the flag bearer during the New Zealand Paralympics Rio 2016 team welcome at Paralympic Village on September 6, 2016 in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. (Photo by Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images for the New Zealand Paralympic Committee)

The opening ceremony for the Rio 2016 Paralympic Games is today. Kirsten McKenzie was there for the Olympic Games and argues that Rio was not only safer than expected, it was far more inclusive than most major cities.

The countdown is on for the 2016 Rio Paralympics. There’s little fanfare in the traditional media. There’s no buzz in workplace corridors, or long essays in the NZ Herald about the expected medal tally for New Zealand. It’s a very different beast to that of the all consuming summer Olympics I have just returned from.

On the flight to Rio, I imbibed the Olympic spirit by binge watching the three olympic offerings in the entertainment section: The Race, a biopic about the sprinter Jessie Owens grappling for racial equality in both America and Germany. Chariots of Fire, another biopic, featuring the struggle for religious equality and inclusiveness. And finally, Eddie the Eagle, which you could argue is about the fight for inclusion, or the fight against the exclusion of those considered less than whole.

Each movie a piece of Olympic propaganda, designed to tug at the heartstrings, to strengthen the notion that to strive for the Olympics is a noble endeavour. It certainly left me contemplating which Olympic level sports were suitable for a woman my age to take up upon my return to New Zealand (hint: not many). Sadly it seems that our Paralympic athletes are facing similar struggles of acceptance, and for their share of airplay, despite their world dominance in many of their chosen sports.

Traveling to Rio on an Air New Zealand plane filled to the gunnels with black t-shirts, you could have been forgiven for thinking that we were on a Black Sabbath charter flight, instead of the direct flight from Auckland to South America. What a proud nation we must be when we can fill an entire plane with family, friends and supporters of our athletes. With that level of support for all our athletes, both able-bodied and not, it still astounds that only mainstream sports get any sort of coverage outside of the Olympics.

Javelin thrower Holly Robinson, flag bearer for New Zealand at the Paralympics Rio 2016 (Photo by Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images for the New Zealand Paralympic Committee)
Javelin thrower Holly Robinson, flag bearer for New Zealand at the Paralympics Rio 2016 (Photo by Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images for the New Zealand Paralympic Committee)

Imagine the athletes, and the inclusive society, we could grow if those other sports had a mere fraction of the coverage rugby and league enjoy in our papers and on our television sets.
I know we had an expensive flag referendum, where people (other than almost everyone I know), voted for the status quo, but seriously, the world must think that our flag is the iconic silver fern on a black background. It was everywhere. Gracing drink bottles and flags, t-shirts and backpacks, jandals and hats. The only time we saw New Zealand’s official flag was during the medal ceremonies.

As travellers, we’d been given an expectation that Rio was a battleground, populated with gun-toting warlords and battalions of homeless filling the third-world streets. After registering with Safe Travel, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs service to track New Zealanders overseas, the emails we started to receive from them were nothing short of terrifying. I’m surprised we ever left New Zealand, and that we sent any athletes at all.

The Rio we saw was anything but the hybrid of war-torn Syria and Pablo Escobar’s centre of operations we’d been told to expect. Rio had an air of 2011 Auckland about it. Remember that time when we’d just been delivered a gleaming Wynyard Quarter and those wide avenues spanning Eden Park? When bars and restaurants sprouted faster than potential mayoral candidates promising rates rebates and urban growth. And as Aucklander’s, we were given wonderful open spaces, family spaces to treasure long after the golden glow of the Rugby World Cup had passed.

From the version of Rio we saw, they will be left with some amazing open public spaces, which felt as safe as houses – you know, the well insulated four-bedroom sort, surrounded by old trees and nicely mown grass verges? Admittedly, there were enough uniformed men around to mount their own well-armed war against ISIS, but the overall vibe of the city was a welcoming one, a happy one, full of your stock standard family groups, young couples, girls travelling in packs, and old men ambling along oblivious to the crowds. And a Rio which has a high functioning public transport system.

The Paralympic Symbol ahead of the Opening Ceremony of the Rio 2016 Paralympic Games at Maracana Stadium (Photo by Friedemann Vogel/Getty Images)
The Paralympic Symbol ahead of the Opening Ceremony of the Rio 2016 Paralympic Games at Maracana Stadium (Photo by Friedemann Vogel/Getty Images)

For the 2016 Olympics, the public transport system in Rio was given an overhaul. There was much in the media about how it doesn’t go as far as it should, or through to the right places. But then again, what public transport system, anywhere in the world, is perfect? At least Rio has one. One which was easy to access, easy to navigate, and delivered tens of thousands of tourists to destinations as far away from each other as they could possibly be. A public transport system, and a population, ready and adult enough, to recognise the needs of others.

Travelling with my mother, who is old enough to receive the pension, but not old enough for me to be allowed to tell you her actual age, was an experience in what New Zealand does not have: respect for its elderly; its expectant mothers; its physically disabled citizens.

During two weeks of travelling on a well utilised public transport system, which at times appeared to be at or beyond capacity, where I was relegated to standing on most trips, only twice was my elderly mother left standing. On every trip, bar two, someone offered her a seat on the crowded train, bus, tube. Students, young men, old men, young women. It didn’t matter who they were, they all, without hesitation offered their seat to her. We watched it happen again and again, at different stops, to different people. The elderly, people on crutches, women holding babies. People willingly stood up and offered their seats to them, to strangers who needed a seat more than they did. What a miracle of manners. And it wasn’t confined to public transport.

All the Olympic venues had a priority queue designated for the elderly, for the disabled, for pregnant women, and for those with very small children (families with teenagers were firmly moved on from these queues). It is a sign of an enlightened society when those who are our most vulnerable are appreciated and considered. And my mother loved it.

Say all you want about the dangers of Rio, about the gun violence, and the terrors of turf wars, the only time I ever had a gun pointed at me, was in Auckland. The only time my bag was snatched, was in London. They must be doing something right in Rio to have the level of courtesy we saw displayed on a daily basis throughout the city. You can’t magic up courtesy like that just for a sporting event, no matter how many volunteers you draft in to help. It just isn’t possible.

It is that level of courtesy which will make the Paralympics as successful as the Summer Olympics. When you have a population already accustomed to accommodating those who might need more assistance than others, you create acceptance. You have a society who are raising children with the personal maturity to accept someone who looks different, or who sounds different, without judgment.

It is with this in mind I’m hopeful our athletes find Rio de Janeiro as accommodating as we did. That they succeed on the international stage, at venues we, as spectators, found to be well designed for all physical abilities. And maybe, just maybe, the media might give our Paralympic athletes the same level of coverage as last months able bodied athletes. Because if Rio can do it, we can do it too.

Keep going!
STACEY WAAKA OF WAIKATO. PHOTO: GETTY
STACEY WAAKA OF WAIKATO. PHOTO: GETTY

SportsSeptember 5, 2016

The only decent game of rugby at Waikato Stadium this weekend

STACEY WAAKA OF WAIKATO. PHOTO: GETTY
STACEY WAAKA OF WAIKATO. PHOTO: GETTY

The Ranfurly Shield contest between the Waikato and Manawatu men’s teams may have been a dud, but the warm-up match was a game for the ages, says Scotty Stevenson.

STACEY WAAKA OF WAIKATO. PHOTO: GETTY
STACEY WAAKA OF WAIKATO. PHOTO: GETTY

Michelle Montague lay on the halfway line at Waikato Stadium, in the rain, in agony. Her braided hair rested on the wet grass, her leg rested in the hands of the trainer. She grimaced, stifling a scream. 

The match was barely ten minutes old when Montagues foot was pinned under her body and she heard the bone snap. The Waikato womens side for whom she plays had been hot on attack for most of that time, relentlessly challenging the defensive line of the Manawatu Cyclones, who had arrived in Hamilton with a one and two record and a point to prove.

Instead, they had been on the back foot since the kick off, after tighthead prop Akosita Kuruyabaki had dropped the ball and the Waikato women had thrown themselves at every tackle in an onslaught that would have broken a weaker side. Montague had been in the thick of it, as had Victoria Edmonds, her locking partner, and the heavily tattooed and downright aggressive Rochelle Smiler, who propped the scrum alongside Sololi Talawadua and Toka Natua.

Perhaps it was the haka that fired them up. Stacey Waaka had led the challenge, invoking the recognisable motifs of the Tainui people. There was a Taniwha at every bend, they asserted in formation, and there was a Waikato ball runner at every breakdown. Given the enormous rugby talent in this part of the world, it was a mystery as to why they had only ever made one final in the seventeen-year history of the womens national provincial championship.

They were fighting for a place in the top four of the championship on this particular afternoon, live on television, in Hamilton. Its now called the Farah Palmer Cup, a nod to one of the most impressive women ever to don a rugby jersey. She was commentating the match. Ostensibly, the women were the supporting act for the main event at the stadium that afternoon –  the Waikato mens side would face the Manawatu Turbos in a Ranfurly Shield match directly afterwards. Someone forgot to tell the wahine that they werent the star attraction.

Waikato kept coming, Manawatu kept holding them out. The home side was laden with stars – Honey Hireme (or Honey Bill Williams as she is so often called), Shakira Baker, Stacey Waaka, Tenika Willison, and the gifted Magali Harvey all took turns at trying to find a way through the great green wall. Janna Vaughan and Lauren Balsillie – a kid so fresh out of school she probably hasnt yet received her exam results – and the diminutive police officer Selica Winiata all took turns at stopping them. Tenika Willison kicked two penalties for Waikato and that was all the points they would have to show for their first half exertions.

There is a stigma attached to the womens game – that the players are lacking in skill and pace when compared to the men. Certainly the game may not be played at the same breakneck speed, but anyone who was on hand to watch both matches will tell you this: these wahine showed more accuracy and awareness of the treacherous conditions than the men who played after them did. Perhaps if the men took time to watch, they may have learned something.

Those same people would also tell you that when Manawatus centre Whanda Leota flew out of the defensive line and forced a turnover inside the the Waikato 22 with a massive and perfectly timed spot tackle, it was every bit the kind of play that people pay to see. Aroha Nuku, an abrasive and tireless loose forward, crossed the line two phases later for Manawatus first points, and Shanna Porima, Leotas midfield partner in crime, scored a second try not long afterward.

Then something amazing happened. Waikato, down by six, heard the half-time siren and just kept playing. It wasnt that they needed to keep playing – they still had forty minutes of the match to go – but they wanted to keep playing. They played 41 minutes, then 42, then 43. Had they not knocked-on they would probably still be playing, a day later. There is a lot to be said for intent. And for opportunity.

The Farah Palmer Cup has never enjoyed much by way of coverage. The womens game may be growing, but the interest in it remains limited. Many in administrative circles wonder whether New Zealand rugby might be best to focus its efforts on womens sevens instead, but long-time stalwarts of the womens game such as Rochelle Martin, Anna Richards, Jax Roper, Melodie Robinson and Farah Palmer see the benefit in the fifteen-a-side format. Not every woman in the game suits the speed of sevens. Fifteens is the game for all shapes and sizes. Its a Whanda Leota flying hit to body myths. This championship is an opportunity to prove to all that the womens game is alive and well.

It is both.

Half-time was five minutes long. Five minutes! And it was spent on the field, in the rain. All that was missing was the container of oranges to complete the old school milieu. Watered and refreshed, the teams flew back into it as if the game was just beginning. Manawatu added three more points courtesy of Krysten Duffills right boot and Stacey Waaka answered back with a solo try that involved ripping herself away from the tackle of three Cyclone players and running 25 metres down the left hand touch.

KRYSTEN DUFFILL KICKS THE SOUL OUT OF A RUGBY BALL. PHOTO: GETTY
KRYSTEN DUFFILL KICKS THE SOUL OUT OF A RUGBY BALL. PHOTO: GETTY

For all money it looked as if the Waikato side were fixing to roll right over the top of the visitors. Victoria Edmonds, already mentioned, may well have broken the record for most carries in a single game of rugby. Whenever a drive needed to be made, she would make it, and as soon as Waikato found themselves under pressure, she would be the one to run them out of it. Scarcely has a lock covered more ground in a game. It was one of the most dedicated performances you could ever hope to witness.

It was a losing performance, though. Kristina Sue, the Manawatu halfback and a veteran of touch and league and sevens, came up with two extraordinary passes in the space of a few minutes, the second of which created enough space for Winiata to run in Manawatus third try. Nicole Dickens, Winiatas co-Captain, then crashed over for a fourth.

In the lead up to that last scoring play, Waikato captain Les Ketu, a Black Fern and an indefatigable open side flanker, failed to get up from the ground. She lay on the wet grass, as her team mates lined up on the try line and gasped at the sight of their captain in agony. Just like Monague, she fought through that agony, put on a brave face, and waited for the stretcher.

She had broken her tibia and fibula.

In the end, Manawatu won the game 25-11. Then the men came out and warmed up and clowned their way through a Ranfurly Shield match in which just two tries were scored and the ball was turned over or dropped or mis-kicked or generally disrespected for eighty minutes.

In the end the sight of 44 fearless women playing rugby on Waikato Stadium, and two of the bravest of all leaving the field with broken bones and dignity intact, was the most memorable thing on show in Hamilton on a rainy Sunday afternoon. As one of the players said after the match, when questions were asked about the health of Montague and Ketu, Theyre as tough as f**k, those two. As tough as f**k.

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