Just for Now (39 page)

possie:  position (rugby)

postie:  mail carrier

poumanu:  greenstone (jade)

pressie:  present

puckaroo:  broken (from Maori)

pudding:  dessert

pull your head in:  calm down, quit being
rowdy

Pumas:  Argentina's national rugby team

pushchair: baby stroller

put your hand up:  volunteer

put your head down:  work hard

rapt:  thrilled

rattle your dags:  hurry up. From the sound
that dried excrement on a sheep's backside makes, when the sheep is running!

rellies:  relatives

riding the pine:  sitting on the bench (as
a substitute in a match)

Rippa:  junior rugby

root:  have sex (you DON'T root for a
team!)

ropeable:  very angry

ropey:  off, damaged (“a bit ropey”)

rort:  ripoff

rough as guts:  uncouth

rubbish bin:  garbage can

rugby boots:  rugby shoes with spikes
(sprigs)

Rugby Championship:  Contest played each
year in the Southern Hemisphere by the national teams of NZ, Australia, South
Africa, and Argentina

Rugby World Cup, RWC:  World championship,
played every four years amongst the top 20 teams in the world

rugged up:  dressed warmly

ruru:  native owl

Safa:  South Africa. Abbreviation only used
in NZ.

sammie:  sandwich

second-five, second five-eights:  rugby
back

selectors:  team of 3 (the head coach is
one) who choose players for the All Blacks squad, for every series

serviette:  napkin

shattered:  exhausted

sheds:  locker room (rugby)

she'll be right:  See “no worries.”
Everything will work out. The other Kiwi mantra.

shift house:  move (house)

shonky:  shady (person). “a bit shonky”

shout, your shout, my shout, shout somebody
a coffee:  buy a round, treat somebody

sickie, throw a sickie: call in sick

sin bin:  players sitting out 15-minute
penalty in rugby

sink the boot in:  kick you when you're
down

skint:  broke (poor)

skipper:  (team) captain. Also called “the
Skip.”

bunk off:  duck out, skip (bunk off school)

smack:  spank. Smacking kids is illegal in
NZ.

smoko:  coffee break

sorted:  taken care of

spa, spa pool:  hot tub

speedo:  Not the swimsuit! Speedometer.
(the swimsuit is called a budgie smuggler—a budgie is a parakeet, LOL.)

spew:  vomit

spit the dummy:  have a tantrum. (A dummy
is a pacifier)

sportsman:  athlete

sporty:  liking sports

spot on:  absolutely correct. “That’s spot
on. You’re spot on.”

Springboks, Boks:  South African national
rugby team

squiz:  look. “I was just having a squiz
round.” “Giz a squiz.”

stickybeak:  nosy person, busybody

stonkered:  drunk—a bit stonkered—or
exhausted

stoush:  bar fight, fight

straightaway:  right away

strength of it:  the truth, the facts.
“What's the strength of that?” = “What's the true story on that?”

stroppy:  prickly, taking offense easily

stuffed up:  messed up

Super 15:  Top rugby competition: five
teams each from NZ, Australia, South Africa

supporter:  fan (Do NOT say “root for.” “To
root” is to have (rude) sex!)

suss out:  figure out

sweet:  dessert

sweet as:  great. (also:   choice as, angry
as, lame as . . . Meaning “very” whatever. “Mum was angry as that we ate up all
the pudding before tea with Nana.”)

takahe:  ground-dwelling native bird. Like
a giant parrot.

takeaway:  takeout (food)

tall poppy:  arrogant person who puts
himself forward or sets himself above others. It is every Kiwi's duty to cut
down tall poppies, a job they undertake enthusiastically.

Tangata Whenua:  Maori (people of the land)

tapu:  sacred (Maori)

Te Papa:  the National Museum, in
Wellington

tea:  dinner (casual meal at home)

tea towel:  dishtowel

test match:  international rugby match
(e.g., an All Blacks game)

throw a wobbly:  have a tantrum

tick off:  cross off (tick off a list)

ticker:  heart. “The boys showed a lot of
ticker out there today.”

togs:  swimsuit (male or female)

torch:  flashlight

touch wood:  knock on wood (for luck)

track:  trail

trainers:  athletic shoes

tramping:  hiking

transtasman:  Australia/New Zealand (the
Bledisloe Cup is a transtasman rivalry)

trolley:  shopping cart

tucker:  food

tui:  Native bird

turn to custard:  go south, deteriorate

turps, go on the turps:  get drunk

Uni:  University—or school uniform

up the duff: pregnant. A bit vulgar (like
“knocked up”)

ute:  pickup or SUV

vet:  check out

waiata:  Maori song

waka:  canoe (Maori)

Wallabies:  Australian national rugby team

Warrant of Fitness:  certificate of a car's
fitness to drive

Weet-Bix:  ubiquitous breakfast cereal

whaddarya?:  I am dubious about your
masculinity (meaning “Whaddarya . . . pussy?”)

whakapapa:  genealogy (Maori). A critical
concept.

whanau:  family (Maori). Big whanau: extended
family. Small whanau: nuclear family.

wheelie bin:  rubbish bin (garbage can)
with wheels.

whinge:  whine. Contemptuous! Kiwis dislike
whingeing. Harden up!

White Ribbon:  campaign against domestic
violence

wind up:  upset (perhaps purposefully). “Their
comments were bound to wind him up.”

wing:  rugby position (back)

Yank:  American. Not pejorative.

yellow card:  A penalty for dangerous play
that sends a player off for 15 minutes to the sin bin. The team plays with 14
men during that time.

yonks:  ages. “It's been going on for yonks.”

Listen to the
songs, explore the places, watch funny and fascinating Kiwi videos, and find
out what’s new at the
Rosalind
James website
.

Hannah and Drew’s story:
JUST THIS ONCE

Jenna and Finn’s
story: JUST FOR NOW

Emma and Nic’s story:
JUST
FOR FUN

Nic Wilkinson wasn’t looking to change his life. He just
wanted to go home. Instead, he quit watching where he was going, stepped in a
puddle, and swore. It had rained the night before, and this part of the field
was still muddy. The hundred or so boys gathered for the last day of Rob
Euliss’s rugby camp weren’t helping a bit. They’d churned up the grass good and
proper this week, Nic saw with disgust as he felt the water squelch inside his
shoe. This wasn’t his idea of a fun way to spend a Sunday morning during a rare
bye week. The kids were OK. He wasn’t always too keen on the parents, though.

But Rob was a neighbor, and a mate. Anyway, when a legendary
former All Black asked a favor, you didn’t say no. So here he was, trying to
avoid the rest of the muck around the edge of the huge field that made up the
North Harbour Rugby Club, and preparing to do his duty.

Nic squinted around the clusters of boys, playing their
final matches of the Easter-week camp under the watchful eyes of volunteer
coaches and a sprinkling of dads who’d been pressed into service. He finally
spotted the still-imposing figure of Rob, issuing impatient instructions to a
hapless dad, and made his way toward the pair.

“Get them to stay onside,” Rob was barking at the
harassed-looking volunteer, intimidating the poor bloke with his trademark
volcanic frown. “They know better.”

Nic waited until the chastened dad took himself off, then
offered, “Morning, Rob.”

“Nico. You took your time,” Rob grumbled. “I said ten.”

“Sorry. Claudia wasn’t rapt about my plan for the day. Where
do you want me?” Nic could see a few of his Blues and All Black teammates, each
surrounded by a little knot of starstruck boys, their parents hovering close.
“I’ll help out here, if you like.”

“Don’t want to meet the mums, eh. Don’t blame you. Stay with
me a minute, then. I’ll find a spot to pop you into.”

They fell silent, watching the boys in front of them play.
“Second year?” Nic asked, watching as a pass fell uncaught at a small pair of
feet.

“Yeh. Six,” Rob answered briefly.

“That one’s good,” Nic remarked as a boy from the opposing
team picked up the ball, made two defenders miss with his abrupt changes of
direction, then passed the ball accurately behind him to a teammate who ran in
for the score.

“Yeh. Got a boot on him, too. Can’t use that in Rippa, of
course. But he’ll be making his mark in a few years,” Rob said. “Hell of a
kick.”

“Some talent there,” Nic agreed as the boy darted in, on
defense now, and ripped an opposing player’s flag from his belt. “Fast-twitch
fibers, I reckon. Reminds me of someone. Somebody’s kid?”

Rob looked at him oddly. “You. Who he reminds you of, I
mean. Good pair of hands, reflexes. And a boot as well. They usually aren’t
much chop at this age, but he’s different. Been watching you, I’d say. Got your
moves. Even has a bit of a look of you. They’re about done here. Stay here and
you can see for yourself, when you do your meet and greet.”

It was on them soon enough. The boys crowded around,
offering up mud- and grass-stained backs for autographs. Nic signed jerseys
with the Sharpie Rob wordlessly handed him, offered a bit of chat to the kids.
The boy with the skills, he saw, hung back a bit, waiting for the crowd to
thin, his eyes on Nic. A good-looking kid, straight dark blond hair getting a
bit long over the forehead and at the back.

The boy came forward at last, turned his back. “Can you sign
huge?” he asked. “I want yours to be the biggest.”

“Can’t turn that down, can I,” Nic answered good-humoredly.
“There. Straight across. Nobody’ll miss that.”

“Thanks,” the boy said. He stood aside as Nic signed the
jersey of a boy with a comical, mobile face and a mop of wild red curls.

“I saw you hurt your leg last week,” the blond boy offered
as Nic finished. “Has it got any better? Will you be able to play in South
Africa?”

“Not too bad,” Nic assured him. “Bit of a crocked thigh,
that’s all. Be right as rain by Saturday.” Which wasn’t strictly true, but it
was the kind of niggle you expected, midway through the season.

“Would you run, though, normally?” the boy asked
hesitatingly. “When you have a bye like this, I mean? If you weren’t injured?
On your days off?”

“Yeh, I would,” Nic answered.

“See, Graham. Told you,” the blond boy said triumphantly to
his redheaded friend. “Graham said you just rested. But I said you have to keep
training, if you really want to be good.”

“You’re right,” Nic said. “Plenty of blokes with talent. You
have to have more than that, if you want to make it to Super level. Takes a
fair bit of discipline. Do you do some training yourself, then? You’re pretty
good.”

The boy flushed with embarrassed pride. “Yeh. I run before
school, lots of days. With my mum. She likes to go too,” he hurried on to
explain. “Not because she has to take me.”

“Good on ya,” Nic said. “You’ve got a pretty fair boot, too,
Dan tells me. What’s your name?”

“Zack. Zack Martens,” the boy said.

“Good to meet you.” Nic shook the offered hand. Manners, he
saw. “And who’s this?”

“Graham MacNeil,” the redhead said, offering his own hand
and turning a violent shade that clashed with his hair.

“Well, Graham, your mate’s right. Do all the running you
can. You boys better get off and get some more signatures on those jerseys,
though. Ben over there looks like he’s about to pack it in.”

“C’mon, Zack,” Graham urged.

“Thank you for signing,” Zack said politely. Dark brown eyes
fringed with long, thick lashes looked shyly up at Nic’s own before the boy
turned to run off with his friend.

“Nice kid, that Zack,” Nic told Rob a bit later from the
middle of another group of kids.

“Got a nice mum, too,” Rob said, nodding toward a group of
parents on the sideline. “Quite pretty. Think she’s single, too. Most of them
don’t show up without a dad, the last day.”

“You old goat,” Nic chided him. “Lucky I don’t tell
Rebecca.”

“Still got a pair of eyes, haven’t I,” Rob countered. “That
one there, see? Kind of blonde. The small one. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Nic looked where Rob was gesturing. Suddenly his sodden feet
seemed to be sending a chill straight through his entire body. He saw Zack
again, excitedly showing off his newly collected autographs to the slim,
graceful figure bending towards him. The honey-blonde hair was shorter now, but
her curls still fell around her face in the way he remembered. She
straightened, turned. And stood stock-still at the sight of him.

He wasn’t more than twenty meters away, but she moved fast.
With a quick word to Zack, she’d melted behind the group of parents and was
lost in the taller crowd within moments.

Nic stood, poleaxed. He recovered his wits as another group
of boys crowded around him, signed jerseys and rugby balls mechanically,
offered encouraging words. But kept an eye out for that slight figure. He
didn’t see her again, though. And to his frustration, by the time he could look
for her properly amidst the thinning crowd, she was gone.