Māori women are the backbone of the Warriors and always have been, writes Briar Pomana.
Since before I can remember, my mum has been a Warriors fan. Her and other wāhine Māori I know are some of the staunchest supporters out and, in my opinion, are the true face of the fandom.
I decided when I first moved out of home that I was going to become a Warriors fan too. It’s something my high school self is low-key scoffing at, but since it’s a community my mum has passionately been part of my whole life, it’s been an easy way to connect with her. Mum is in her 50s and has always been tūturu to her own kaupapa and tikanga. I describe her often as a marae kitchen aunty, a lady that is straight up but also incredibly loyal to whatever/whoever she decides to invest her time into, including the Warriors.
The team has been a constant feature in my life and perhaps I’ve resented them for the majority of it. But as I’ve gotten older, I have developed somewhat of an admiration for the way Mum and others like her have shown up week after week, season after season to support this diverse community the Warriors have built for themselves.
In 1995, five years before I was born, the Auckland Warriors were introduced as a team that would represent Auckland City and New Zealand in what is now known as the NRL tournament. Then, as now, rugby union was king in this country, but we had enough local talent here playing and loving rugby league that a club of our own was feasible. In 2000, due to a financial collapse, the club lost quite a few of its main shareholders and Eric Watson, a prominent businessman of the time, purchased the club’s remaining assets and rebranded as the New Zealand Warriors.
In 2002 the club reached new heights, competing in the NRL minor premiership. Although they were beaten 30-8 by the Sydney Roosters, it’s a match that is forever etched into the fandom’s collective memory along with another premiership appearance in 2011 against the Manly Sea Eagles.
I was old enough to remember the 2011 game and can still recall how Mum suddenly shape-shifted into my grandfather, uttering every cuss word you can think of with a voice that shook our lounge. I think my vocabulary expanded dramatically that night and although they lost to Manly, it was the first time I stayed up, watched and engaged with a whole Warriors match alongside Mum. Even though we have not reached a premier final since then, ask any true Warriors fan and they’ll reply with the same thing: “It’s our year, baby.”
That faith leads to snarky comments about Warriors fans, staff and players, it’s nothing new. A mate of mine, Te Aomania, represents the new generation of a Warriors fan. We went to boarding school together in Hawkes Bay and like me, her love for the sport and team was passed down generationally from her parents. She started watching the Warriors because her dad was a real big fan and once her understanding of the game grew, it felt silly to not support the only team from NZ.
Before their first home game in 2023, which also happened to be held in Te Aomania’s backyard, Wellington, I asked her how she deals with the sceptics of the Warriors and what she believes is the root of the mockery. Without hesitation, she replied:
“A lot of the criticism comes from people who have no clue, or who haven’t thrown a ball around themselves in the last 10 years. You know [the Warriors] haven’t had the best of runs lately but my dad and the rest of my family always have this saying where it’s like you have to hate to love the warriors and sometimes they can really make it hard to love them but that’s part of it. I think you’ve just got to keep the faith because we’ve got to support them, they’re our only team.”
This faith that Te Aomania speaks of is what fuels the fandom. A concept similar to the force in Star Wars. It is always present and evolving, just waiting for the right people to harness it.
My high school English teacher Whaea Jerri Lee also speaks of this faith. Like our parents, she has been there from the early days of the club. Whaea Jerri Lee and I are pretty much from the same little place in Kahungunu territory. She’s in her 60s with big glasses and even bigger, fluffy whakakī hair. Back in the day, Whaea Jerri Lee owned a fish and chip shop and remembers that in the small town where we’re from, it was a social event to watch the league.
“When I started watching the game in the 80s, they only had one game a week and we’d watch on a Wednesday night at about 10 o’clock, which was a rerun from the previous Saturday’s game,” she says. “You had to go down to the Nūhaka fire station to watch it and honestly the only ones watching it were us women because the men were too busy drinking. So that was the very beginning of televised NRL in rural New Zealand and I guess my love for the game.”
When she became a teacher, a part of the job that wasn’t advertised was just how many sports games she would have to drive kids to and eventually end up coaching for. All of which not only grew her own appreciation for rugby league but also that of her small knit community in Nūhaka. Sports teams and rugby league in particular almost consumed her life, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. League – and sport in general – continues to be an incredibly valuable thing in small rural townships and communities. It has the power to bring people together week in and week out for a greater purpose. In saying this, we have to acknowledge that a lot of this community building and strength is made possible through the volunteer labour and support of wāhine like Whaea Jerri Lee, like Te Aomania and like my Mum.
I realised through these wāhine that sport at its core is the collective agreement that we will believe in one another and strive towards something bigger than ourselves. And when I think about wāhine in sport, sure there are the athletes themselves that come to mind and their pursuits of greatness, but for me, sport is also about those we don’t see on TV or running out on a pitch.
The Warriors are about those that are up at the crack of dawn boiling mouth guards last minute, constantly dropping or picking up kids along the way to games and mid-week practices. It’s cutting oranges with paper cuts on your hands but doing it because it’s your week on the roster. It’s rallying as a community by manning that sausage sizzle grill for those new uniforms and kit. It’s about standing up to those who don’t believe and shaking off the shit they throw, even in defeat. It’s about our wāhine Māori showing up and being there no matter what, even if it is them lecturing us on the car ride home. It’s about the Warriors, it’s about their fans and it’s about all those that are often overlooked or doubted by those who just can’t keep the faith.