Dejection for Australia players and staff after the Rugby World Cup France 2023 match between Wales and Australia at Parc Olympique on 24 September, 2023. Photo: Craig Mercer/MB Media
First person - I moved to New Zealand with my family in 2014. My wife, young son and I jumped the ditch from Sydney in search of adventure and a change of scenery.
I'd never say this at dinner parties in Auckland, where we live, but between you and I, there's not much difference between the two cities.
The price of houses is still sky-high, you have to mortgage your home before a basic shopping trip to the supermarket, and two tickets in the nosebleed section of Eden Park to see P!nk won't give you much change from 400 bucks.
Oh, and the traffic in Auckland - like Sydney - is horrible.
Even the people and accents are similar. We love it.
However, there is one major thing I've noticed that has changed in the nine-and-a-bit years since we came here: the rugby rivalry.
In 2015, the Wallabies somehow made it through to the final of the World Cup in London. I must admit to being mystified as to how they pulled it off, but, hey, I wasn't complaining.
While secretly hoping for a miracle, deep down I knew the All Blacks had our measure, and that's how it played out. They won 34-17, and if you've ever heard Sky Sports' call of Beauden Barrett's match-sealing try, Justin Marshall isn't commentating - he's barracking on behalf of Kiwis everywhere, God bless him.
It gave me a crash-course in how seriously New Zealanders take their rugby.
Beauden Barrett scores the winning try in the 2015 Rugby World Cup final. Photo: PHOTOSPORT
In the week leading up to the final, my son, Tommy, and I proudly wore our gold jerseys as we walked to his school. Maybe we were asking for it, but my-then nine-year-old learnt some new words from the drivers of cars who paused to offer us their thoughts on our choice of attire.
We just puffed out our chests, and kept marching, wearing the shirt with pride.
In pubs, bars and restaurants, the rivalry was such back then, that they at least feared Australia might do something unexpected, and win the Webb Ellis Cup.
Naaaaah.
As it was, they were the good old days for Aussie rugby, because like a dinosaur from one of 2015's biggest films, Jurassic World, the sport across the Tasman is in danger of becoming extinct.
And I've watched the slow motion car-wreck the Wallabies have become, with a front-row seat next to the most knowledgeable rugby fans on Earth.
Like a relationship breakup, there's been five stages of the way New Zealanders have acted towards me, after hearing my Aussie accent.
For the first few years, it was denial, with memories of their semi-final loss in Sydney in 2003, last-second penalty kicks from John Eales and Matt Burke and heartbreaking Toutai Kefu tries wrongly convincing them Australia still had the ability to do the unexpected.
I mean, how cool was it to be a Wallabies fan back then? What a team.
Then, came the anger, as in, "What the hell is going on with Aussie rugby?" It was like we weren't pulling our end of an unwritten bargain. What good is sledging opposition fans, if their team isn't winning?
That was followed by a sharp decline for both Australia's Super Rugby teams and the national outfit.
It led to the "bargaining" stage of the breakup, with New Zealand fans, officials and broadcasters coming to the realisation that the Wallabies were no longer box-office gold.
That coincided with Covid, where the rivalry really cooled off.
Sadly, for myself and my rugby-crazy son, depression and now acceptance have set in, as Kiwi fans no longer look on Australia with fear, but rather pity and sorrow.
This was underlined this week, with my neighbours and RNZ work colleagues, actually feeling sorry for me after the Wallabies' 40-6 thrashing at the hands of Wales in Lyon.
Where banter once ruled, there were pats on the back, and genuine sympathy as my team was all but dumped out in the group stage for the first time.
They've even stopped saying, "anyone but Australia" in picking winners at the tournament.
How sweet of them, but what I'd give for some banter right now.
So, if you see my son and I walking along the street in our old-fashioned Wallabies jerseys, please yell out. We'd love to be sledged, just for old times sake, and to remind us how good the rivalry used to be.
