It's a Yellow Out

Wellington Phoenix host the Newcastle Jets in what amounts to an A-League Quarter-final on Sunday 7 March.

The Yellow Fever have called upon the city, nay the very country, to show its true colours and go yellow for the game. With less than 5,000 tix left to sell the Nix final home game of the season will be a scorcher.

Unfortunately as per my previous post I'll be knee deep in artiness, taking Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea out to the curious theatre at Southward Car Museum in Paekakariki. Paekakariki means valley of the green parrot- Ill make time in my schedule to ask Land Information NZ to temporarily change the name to Paekowhai- the valley of yellow!

I'm hoping that since this company is British they'll be partial to a bit of football, and may tolerate me tuning to Radio Sport in the Greenroom, and perchance the quiet bits of the show will be punctuated by my cries of joy when Greenacre slots home the winner.

I have had nary a chance to ruminate upon matters football for the past week, missing opportunites to post about the Phoenix beating Perth, Ryan Nelsen's dodgy knee, the All Whites strip being blacked out and all manner of other sundry odd spots.

But yesterday I saw some awesome athleticism, namely the man and his digger at Waitangi Park, and the Monks from Sutra perform a monkey dance on a steel pole. This was after I had performed two Haka Powhiri- one at dawn to welcome the Festival artists and a special Haka Powhiri on stage at the St James Theatre to welcome the cast of Sutra. The Monks were very gracious and said through their translator "your dance [the haka] is like a Kung Fu to us."

Here is the proof:
Before yesterday I had only ever performed one Haka before- as a weedy teenager on Niue Island before our 7th form Geography Class Rugby team got pounded into the ground by the Niue High School 1st XV. (On the Niue national News that night it was the lead story, and we were called the Rotorua Boys High 1st XV!)

A Haka is an intense experience- drawing up all manner of mana and wairua from the Earth below, and entwining host and guest in an ancient, energetic bond. And then you want to smash them.

IF it was done right, and that is a BIG if, i wouldn't mind seeing the All Whites take a leaf out of the All Blacks book and summon the warrior chief Te Rauparaha before taking on the Italians!

On second thoughts maybe not, have some monkey pole dancing & general easts meets west craziness courtesy of Sutra instead:

Phoenix Lose the Longest Derby

Wellington Phoenix went down 2-0 to Perth, in what may euphemistically be called 'the Longest Derby'.

In a league dominated by teams from Australia's Eastern Seaboard, Wellington and Perth are the geographically distant outsiders. It somehow seems right to think of Wellington v. Perth as a derby of a different kind. It is their very uncommonness that they have in common, like the disparite dogmas of Glasgow Rangers and Celtic, which unites the fierce rivals in an uncomfortable bond.

The Wellington to Perth road trip must be one of the longest in domestic football, and makes a sweet mockery out of the cosy bonhomie of, say, the Maltese or Andorran football leagues. Perhaps only Russia has a domestic football match that requires a 10,000+ Kilometre round trip. (Happy to be corrected in the comments section below.)

Eugene Dadi had a baffling, meandering, sort of homecoming. Fouled from the first minute, he was goaded into picking up a soft early yellow and was lucky not to see red mere minutes later. It seemed like he was hell bent on reacquainting his studs with the shins of every one of his ex-team mates. The strategy failed, the Perth Glory's covert fouling was much more effective in disrupting Dadi's flow and getting under his skin; Paul Ifill also copped a bit of attention, repeatedly being spilled over by the Glory game plan of harassment and niggle. It was not a pretty game, but Perth's two first half goals were at least quality finishes, even if the Nix defence was generous in its absentia.

In the second half Dadi's horror show return to the Indian Oceanside reached its nadir with a pathetic 73rd minute penalty, limply rolled to the keeper, after a clownish run up.

In what was a forgettable night for the Nix; feeble up front and phantoms at the back, perhaps the thing I'd most like to blot from the record is the terrible 'Come Play' commemorative jerseys.

The sentiment, at least, was fantastic. This was the 'Come Play' Round, where each team wore a special jersey to promote Australia's World Cup bid, and each player's top will be auctioned off for charity afterwards. Although the Phoenix are a NZ based team the potential spin off for NZ football from Australia hosting the World Cup could be huge.

But the shirts themselves were a throw back to the eighties- hypercolour tied dyed messes with cutesy little Kangaroos on them. Gok Wan should stick to shopping malls for his makeovers, and leave the football shirts alone.

Ironically the 'Come Play' round, which was meant to draw attention to the A-League as a supporting factor in Australia's World Cup Bid, was defined by ill discipline and confrontation. Plenty of bookings, poor tackles and silly fouls. North Queensland's All White Jeremy Brockie had his ankle snapped in a rash challenge by Brisbane Roar's Michael Zullo, so much for transtasman goodwill and cooperation in the name of the World Cup. Brockie's dream of appearing in a World Cup is probably as busted as his leg, while Zullo blithely played on, hoping to be in contention. for the Socceroos' squad. Even 'God' wasn't in a charitable mood; North Queensland's Robbie Fowler sulked in the stands after being benched.

The Central Coast v. Gold Coast game, a true derby at least in geographical terms if not history, was typical of the round. It was feisty, marred by fouls and dust ups, but still managed to be a snore fest.(I literally fell asleep watching it.) The casual observer might think that the invitation to come play was confused about what code it was referring to.

If this was meant to be the shop window for the beautiful game in Australia, then those tie-dyed t-shirts should be ripped into rags, and used to wipe the window clean.

3 nil

That is all.

Dadi is King of the Castle

Saturday 9 January 2010 was a very special day in Wellington, New Zealand.

The sun was beaming down on our own little patch of South Pacific paradise, and tourists scoffed ice-creams in the Botanic Gardens and on the Waterfront. Amongst them a handful of Brisbane Roar fans, in town to see their team take on the resurgent Wellington Phoenix.

It was the second to last day of my holidays. I started the day by heading up to the Town Belt with Miro to gather pinecones for the winter- it may seem like an odd choice of activity, but it is actually really fun and a 'recession friendly' father and son activity. Watching Miro stagger about the steep forest calling out for 'cones' gave me great joy, and now we have a few bags of starter fuel for our home fire.

After lunch I headed up to the Dell in the Botanic Gardens to partake in pre-game beer and a spot of Kubb, which urban legend has it was a training routine for viking warriors. This yard game is like a cross between Jenga, Petanque and Chess, and is easy to pick up but hard to put down.

It is quite a nice way to spend a sunny afternoon, hanging out with my footballing cohort Richard Hallam, whose aim was well off that day, missing the King by a country mile, despite the look of concentration in this (posed) shot:

After the half drunken game of Kubb we hightailed it to the stadium to watch the Nix.

The first half was nothing special really- the Nix defended well, but to be honest Brisbane looked an inferior force compared to past incarnations of the Queensland Oranje. Their one or two real chances of the half were snuffed out by former Brisbane keeper Liam Reddy, now wearing the Amber and Black of Wellington.

But the second half, oh, the second half. I moved from my usual spot near the Yellow Fever around to the rejects zone of aisle 10 by halfway, to try and get a different perspective on the game. I am glad I did, for I was in a prime spot to see Eugene Dadi stamp his mark on the match and his mark on Wellington, by producing a wonderfully timed overhead volley. Then, mere minutes later, he completed a debutant brace with an instinctive finish after some great build up work. The Nix kept attacking, and despite a consolation goal to the Roar (which in itself was a fine finish) the three points were safe.


The next day I went up to Martin Luckie Park with 20 other Yellow Feverites for the weekly kickaround, and spirits were high. Finally this season there is renewed optimism in the Phoenix camp and hushed voices are even discussing play-off football.

When life seems complicated, and even the sport you love is drawn into the maelstrom of chaos and terror, (an event which was made all the worse for the cackhanded political maneuvering afterwards) it is sometimes nice to just sit back and contemplate the simple things in life:

A gorgeous summer's day; pinecone hunting; obscure viking lawn games; and overhead bicycle kicks.

Enjoy Dadi's cool goal again, courtesy of 101 Great Goals:

My Heart Belongs to Dadi

As Cole Porter so eloquently penned, and Ella Fitzgerald so elegantly sung:

"While tearin' off a game of golf
I may make a play for the caddie
But when I do, I don't follow through
'Cause my heart belongs to Dadi"

Wellington Phoenix have signed Ivorian international Eugene Dadi from Perth Glory. Dadi will be a physical presence up front and will no doubt be a great foil for the skillful Paul Ifill and Chris Greenacre to play off. Every time I watched Perth play the Nix I was impressed with Dadi. Like Ifill he seems to have more time than most, while others are scurrying into position he shuffles along at his own pace, calmly summing up the options before delivering a telling final ball.

The fact that the Phoenix attacking trio mentioned above are all foreigners makes a mockery of Asian Football Federation Chairman Bin Hammam's claim that Wellington Phoenix is an ersatz national team, and is being used solely for the purpose of strengthening our qualification for major tournaments. While there is no doubt that NZ football is stronger for the presence of the Phoenix, and that Ben Sigmund, Mark Paston and the other Wellington based All Whites must relish the regular competition of the A-League, the chance for those guys to train and play with the likes of Dadi and Ifill is just as important.

I think a Wellington Phoenix made up purely of Kiwis would have a detrimental effect on the game here, but if Bin Hamman had his way then the Phoenix will have to become registered as a fully Australian entity and our Kiwi players will count as foreign imports. While this is plainly ridiculous a balance is needed to keep the Phoenix as a development path for Kiwis while allowing the best of the rest of the World through the doors; increasing international profile, crowd revenue and allowing invaluable experience of different styles and cultures for our National team players.

So Dadi is coming home to Wellington. I look forward to seeing him in action this very weekend against the Brisbane Roar at Westpac Stadium. He will surely be a Yellow Fever favourite with a name that lends itself to clever chants based on Cole Porter songs and family-friendly puns.

Dust Devils, Tumbleweeds, Uni Cyclists and the Photo of the Year

It's been a relaxed fortnight with very little football watching for me to comment on, apart from listening in to shaky radio coverage of Paul Ifill's two goal heroics for the Nix on New Years Eve, and watching a rather bizarre doco about Diego Maradona by underground auteur Kustarica, entitled simply Maradona. (I may review this film later so won't talk to much about it now).

Around Wellington it's like a ghost town; if not for the hordes of Unicyclists in town Dust Devils and Tumbleweeds would be the only animation.

One side effect of growing up loving football in a rugby mad country is that I have developed a healthy curiosity for all sports that buck the norm. You know at the end of the sports bulletin after they have shown the rugby, cricket, netball, horse racing and yachting, and then they show the bog snorkling or cheese-rolling? That's when they used to show the football footage, so I have been conditioned to sit up and take notice of those quaint, customary little events.

In the past I have been taken a shine to Gaelic Football, Aussie Rules, Hurling and Grid Iron. I can now add Unicycling to my minority sports report, since I have been spending some time this past week at Newtown Park watching the Track and Field criteria of the 15th Unicycle World Champs. This morning I went down to the Wellington Events Centre and caught some of the Unicycle Basketball- thats right, it's Basketball on a unicycle! These guys were incredible, and while some of the basketball skills were not the best, the combined skill of riding, turning, stopping, passing and shooting while on one wheel was very skillful.

If a team of pro basketballers were to play the best Uni-Basketballers, the first half being straight up basketball, the second half on Unicycles, I'd bet that the hippies would get creamed by the pros in the first half, but might just sneak in a point or two from a lucky three pointer, or a free throw. BUT in the second half the Unicyclists would wheel to victory unopposed; the basketballers struggling to even get on court, let alone block a shot or put up the rock. Only those Basketballers raised by circus folk would stand a chance and as far as I know that only includes Dennis Rodman.

Watching Unicyclists negotiating the wild streets of Newtown and the Waterfront, bent over at 45 degrees to cope with the wind, is a mesmerising little piece of whimsy in our otherwise forlorn and quiet little frontier town.

The media is also full of dust devils and tumbleweeds. Bored hacks and Summer interns trying to find a bright mirage in a dull desert. They either overblow flimsy news items which wouldn't stand up in the mid year storm of real news, or else they endlessly review the years' past successes with recycled lists and awkwardly fabricated awards.

Sometimes though this more laidback approach to news gathering can result in gentle nostalgia. Upon picking up the Summer edition of local community rag The Wellingtonian I was stoked to see that their 'Photo of the Year' across all categories was of the West African Keeper from the 2009 Culture Kicks Tournament. Culture Kicks is Wellington's own ethnic mini world cup- five a side and lively, with food, music and of course football.

I have a special attachment to this event since I was the instigator and main organiser for the first three years (including 2009) and managed to secure funding for it in the Local Council's Long Term Community Plan. It is a great event, and I remember the moment this photo was taken very well since I was the sideline commentator. West Africa were outplayed by Poland in the final, but had a chance to win it in regular time; their striker rounding the keeper only to miss the open goal. Alas, it finished 0-0 and Poland, from Christchurch, kept their nerve to win it from the spot. They collected the trophy and then a shuttle bus collected them, and rushed off to the airport, since the tournament went well over time.

This years' Culture Kicks is on March 28 at Martin Luckie Park, and teams can register at Sportzone. Lets just hope Poland remember to fly the trophy back up in time.

Here is the 2009 'Photo of the Year' of the West African keeper just before the penalty shootout:

Wellington Phoenix win a 2010 TAWA Award

Last night Wellington Phoenix won a coveted TAWA award for Best Regular Entertainment in Wellington.

The Annual Wellingtonista Awards (TAWAS) are run by a bunch of cyber savvy hep cats who blog about the Wellington 'scene'. In their collective consciousness they know where to get a Hot Buttered Rum when the clock has struck one, and where the best place to shake your Watusi is once that Rum rush kicks in.

So when they vote the Wellington Phoenix as Best Regular Entertainment you know that a tipping point has been reached.

The Nix beat out some tough competition in their category- The Richter City Roller Derby is apparently a great night out and their fans flocked to the awards night expecting another bonecrushing victory.

The award is as much for the atmosphere generated by the Yellow Fever fans as for the incidental action on the field. The Wellington Phoenix experience is a complete package, from last gasp Leo Bertos pile drivers which nick the points, to bare chests and witty chants.

In the same awards ceremony the the All Whites' World Cup Qualifier was pipped at the post for Best Event by the Cuba Street Carnival. I think that was a fair result. The Cuba Street Carnival is New Zealand's answer to the Notting Hill Carnival; organised chaos on a grand scale, a debauched saturnalia invading the streets of our fair town.

So well done the Phoenix! Yet more kudos for a code on the rise.

Purgatory....and all stops North

A weekend review 12-13 December

Wellington Phoenix 0-Sydney FC 1
Capital Football 4-Waikato-Bay of Plenty 1 (National Women's League-Semifinal)
Auckland City 0- Atlante 3


Wellington Phoenix 0-Sydney FC 1

Head north from Wellington and the road signs are peppered with the names of small towns and so called 'cities' which begin with the letter P. There is a punctual glut of P-towns as you travel up the Kapiti Coast; a plethora which includes Porirua, Pauatahanui, Plimmerton, Paekakariki, Paraparaumu and so on until the plain-straddling university town of Palmerston North announces its arrival with yet another primary plosive. It was here that the Wellington Phoenix played Sydney FC in a crucial A-League match.

I went to a party once in Palmerston North. There was a pig on the spit and live music that sounded like the souls of the damned feasting on said dead beast. I had a great time, falling asleep in a car as the mist rolled in across the farmlands. Would I go back to Palmy for a party? Probably not. Will the Phoenix return? maybe, but they'll have to work harder if they want to bring home the bacon, having been bamboozled by the wind at the Serie B wannabe FMG stadium, probably the first A-League fixture to be played on a Stock Car track:
It's like Wellington Phoenix were banished to Palmerson North as punishment for picking up the tag of 'bad boys' of the A-League. And in Palmerston North they suffered the interminable winds of damnation. Unable to clear their lines they conceded an early penalty, expertly dispatched by the Dante-esque Steve Corica, all age and guile. It proved the difference, eventually scuttled 1-0 by a more aggressive and more creative Sydney FC. The 'Bling' must have been wondering where the hell they were, and what they had done to deserve such a rural exile. It's a far cry from the cosmoplitan cool of Sydney -the biting wind and fierce sun seemed to burn a red stamp on each Sydneysider's neck, as if to remind them of their time in footballing purgatory with those sinners from across the ditch. Alex Brosque, in particular, had a neck which shone as red as the Tararua Ranges at sundown.

Before this game Sydney had a fine disciplanary record but they seemed to let the wind and sun get to them. In a classic case of commentators curse Fred De Jong put the clappers on Sydney, noting their exemplary disciplinary record compared to the errant Phoenix- within a minute Colosimo was shown a red card for a reckless lunge, and the last ten minutes was littered with yellow cards for time wasting as Sydney looked to kill off the game.

So at least Sydney got the points from their weekend away in purgatoty, while a becalmed Nix keep hovering about in limbo.

Capital Football 4- Waikato -Bay of Plenty 1 (Women's National League Semifinal)

The following day I took a drive out to yet another P-Town to watch the local ladies representative side take on Waikato-Bay of Plenty in very gusty conditions at Memorial Park, Petone. Compared to the Nix game it was a much more entertaining spectacle, and a clinic in playing with the wind. Capital Football are flush with national team stars such as Aroon Clansey, Hannah Wall and Renee Leota, as well as up and coming youngsters like Sandy Cumpstone (from my own club Wgtn Utd) and Amanda Rasch. It was a nervy, and not very pretty, first half (much like the Nix v Sydney game) as both sides battled for territory and tried to read the wind. But the second half sprung to life as the Capital showed a smarter hand, stringing short passes together and running the ball upfield as a unit. The Waikato keeper's poor handling and judgement in the swirling wind was exposed as the yellow strikers followed up spilled shots to punish her with two quick second half goals. A 30 yard screamer with the wind at her back saw Sarah MacLauchlin put Waikato back in the frame, but substitute Hannah Wall's fresh legs created havoc for the Waikato defence and Capital Football put the game to bed with two late goals. The Capital women now face a rematch of last year's final against Auckland up in Pukekohe.

Funnily enough I saw Peter McDonald at a family cycling event that morning and told him the game was on, knowing he likes covering sports events in the Hutt Valley. I emailed him today and he sent me these pics for this blog. What a champ!






Auckland City 0- Atlante 3

Oh and Auckland City's fairytale run in the Club World Cup came to an abrupt halt at the feet of the mythical sounding Atlante from Mexico. It was always going to be a tough ask for the amateurs of 'Shop Assistants FC' to maintain their momentum, what with worrying how Granville was getting on back at shop. They still have a play off for 5/6 place against the incredibly named Tout-Puissant Mazembe Englebert from the Congo.

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Yet another little karmic kickback for me from the footballing gods via this Blog. A supporter who took a panorama of the stadium during the All Whites vs. Bahrain game posted his pic on the Yellow Fever forum with the intention of selling prints to fans. It transpired that Welly_Phoenix's (as he calls himself on the forum) original image included photos that he didn't hold the copyright for. But after Welly_Phoenix read my blog post about photographer Peter McDonald I put him in touch with Peter and they came to some arrangement to use those pics in his updated print. This is now being sold via the Yellow Fever home page.

Punters who have purchased it have said it's a lot better momento than the NZ Football produced 'One Shot for Glory' team photo, which was promoted as a publicity stunt to drive ticket sales for the Bahrain game. This was touted as the biggest team photo in the world, where the crowd at the Westpac Stadium would be photographed as if they were posing in the All Whites' team photo. Here it is from a TV screen shot:


It was a nice idea in theory, but in reality the curvature of the stadium made it difficult for the designers to present it in an appropriate scale. Plus it was almost two weeks before a version was produced for the public to view, which is an aeon in the timeframes of modern media. The designers must have had some wicked kind of hangover after the Victory Party on November 14th!

In the end NZ Football wisely decided to give it away free as a poster in the newspaper, since its expected impact was diminished, and as a thank you to the fans who helped spur the All Whites on to the World Cup.

Luckily the Fever fan designed Panorama has filled the spot and makes a nice little christmas present.I get no sales commission from this plug (honest!) just a warm glow from the sense that I am doing my bit in keeping the footie fire alive.

Two Games of Two Halves

Yesterday I saw 90 minutes of local football action. But the first 45 was at Newtown Park where Team Wellington and Otago United were locked at 0-0 at the break, and then a few hours later I went to the pub where I caught the second half of Wgtn Phoenix as they wilted in sweltering temperatures in Newcastle. So I witnessed no goals, although both matches bore them. Team Wellington going down to two second half Otago strikes. 0 from 3 at home this season for Team Welly; a disasterous start to a much lauded campaign- even back up All White's Keeper Jimmy Bannatyne was unable to save their blushes. My mate Dave 'Writer's Block' Armstrong ponficated as we watched the Nix that Team Wellington tried to play like a team of stars but Otago United were a team, and that, he said, is the secret of winning football.

Dave and I chatted away over a delicious Three Boys Golden Ale at Bar Edward, as the Phoenix clung to a first half lead courtesy of a Paul Ifill volley. In the end the bush-fire temperature was the winner as both teams tired, but strangely Newcastle burnt out much quicker. The home team's perfomance was typified by the day dreams of a dozy ball boy, who took a hazy age to return a ball to the Jet's keeper as he raced the clock to nick a share of the points. The whole pub liked my "even your ball boys are shit" quip, although to be fair the lad was probably just bored and dehydrated.

So the Nix stay in 6th and pick up their first win on the road since November 7th.



In between the two games I attended a 4th Birthday party with as much chocolate cake as you could care to eat, and had to take my son to the park to run off the sugar rush afterwards. At Crawford Green a melange of refugee tweenies lined up potshots at a disinterested 4 foot goalkeeper. The boys, from Assyria, Afghanistan and Oromo backgrounds (I know cos I had taught them all before many years ago) were only too happy to have an adult go in goal to stop their shots, even if i was really only trying to stop Miro being clattered as he grubbed around the goal mouth. Without getting too mushy it was great to see the different tribes mixing it up on a nice Sunday afternoon, even if I had to leave the field of play to take Miro back for bathtime.

And tonight I had an unexpected call up for more Twilight Football Action. We played a very good side made up of Wgtn United first and second teamers. I struggled with a belly full of pasta and a glass of red wine but scored a nice solo goal. I realised I am not quite the athlete I think I am- more the archetypal park striker, all bluster and brazen, able to pull of a flukey goal or two but lazy in the track back and costly in defence.

Tomorrow I aim to give you more of an insight into my 'football tragic' credentials, as promised to Hamish from the Lucky Country.