The old Okara Park and a 97-year old Northland fan on taking the log of wood
This win is for fifty-years of Northland fans, writes Dallas Gurney.
When I was a kid my dad used to take us to Northland games, or North Auckland as they were then, all the time. We would sit in the old terraces, usually not far from the toilets. The cushion from an outdoor chair for comfort from hard concrete on a soft bum. I’d stare over at the broadcasting boxes in the main stand and wonder what it was like being in there.
To our left, the scoreboard. A man in a white jacket lived there but would only appear outside when someone scored a point in a rugby game. NORTH AUCKLAND featured prominently as the first name on the board. The other team, reduced to VISITORS. Not even worth a mention. How embarrassing for them I thought. Funny the things you think about when you’re a kid.
The man who lived in the scoreboard also had an incredible knack of being able to know precisely which team scored and how many points were scored without ever peering outside. He would just appear in the doorway as soon as something happened with the necessary change-outs for the sign. He must even have a little TV in there I thought. Of course he would, everyone had a TV in their house, duh. But as North Auckland lost its place in First Division and its “Match of the Day”-style coverage on “One World of Sport” along with it, the man who lived in the scoreboard continued to be able to see through the wall of his little house despite the lack of TV coverage. I landed on him having some of those X-ray specs from the comics. $1.75 +P&P from some outfit in the States. Clever.
There were other men in white coats too. They told people where to park and collected the money. I thought they were doctors, and it was confusing as to why they were car park attendants in their spare time. Tough times. “Muldoon”. That’s what old people would say.
The toilet block in the terraces was old even then. There was a “urinal” which was actually just the concrete wall painted a different colour. Water would periodically run down it into some sort of clay trough and then out the side of the building. Whether it went into an official “drain” I don’t know.
There were ambulance officers patrolling the side line. Back then the water was a lot better than it is now. It used to really help fix most ailments up pretty quickly. The alternative was the stretcher. There seemed to be no diagnosis that required any other form of treatment. It was water, or you’re off.
Every game I would ask Dad whether the goal posts at Okara Park were still the tallest in the Southern Hemisphere. Every game he’d say they sure were. I’d ask how he knew. An article in Rugby News he’d say.
And then there was “Blue” - a well known Northland rugby identity sounding off from the other side of the toilets with his chant. “BLUUUUUUUUUUE”. I loved it. Dad said he’d heard “Blue” was an accountant. I thought it was pretty cool he loved the team so much he would make such a spectacle of himself every game.
I knew all the Northland team by name. Warren “The Boot” Johnston was my favourite. He could nail a shot from anywhere in the park.
But we never seemed to win much. We were a mid-table team at best, struggling to keep up with the bigger population centres in Canterbury, Wellington, Waikato and our arch nemesis, Auckland. Even when I was a kid in the 1980’s it seemed like it had been a long time since we’d had the Ranfurly Shield. Little did we realise how long the drought would be.
And now we are the champions of all things that have been and will be in the future.
Congratulations to a fantastic Northland team who played like demons and did us all proud.
Next Sunday I’ll be going to my first Northland game in at least 30 years. I couldn’t be more excited. We’re sitting in the terraces.
Listen to Dallas' papa 97 year-old Northland fan Bruce Powell react to Northland's big win.
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