Super Rugby and starting all over again

I’m going to be a father again in July. Call me a glutton for punishment. Or a brave forward planner.

But I’m about to once again board the train for Promiseville, calling at stations Self-Doubt, Broken Sleep and Dependence Valley.

The truth is I am filled with both a sense of dread and eager anticipation at the thought of this imminent bundle of joy and insomnia wrapped up in one disposable nappy.

My daughter will still be a fair way off her second birthday when her sister arrives. The thinking that they will hopefully prove to be good playmates as they grow older will be cold comfort for the next coming year or so.

I am mentally preparing for sleepless nights, unsociable feeding hours and nappy changes all over again. But nothing quite prepares you for the real thing. And then comes the realisation: there’s another that’ll need constant attention. How am I going to get through this?

Looking at my daughter’s adorable face now, her brief but action-packed life flashes by me in a blur. Her first steps, her first utterances, her first recognition of my face. All of these things occurred but it’s difficult to pinpoint the exact moments.

Yet all the mistakes you made along the way are superseded by the sweet moments. The same can be said for the past two Rugby World Cup campaigns for New Zealand.

Winning ugly became a habit under Steve Hansen. There were matches when things seemed to click and the video highlights played on for longer, but there were many games when I just felt relieved the whole thing was over, much like the 2011 final.

Under Graham Henry, we were spoiled with tours up north. The New Zealand team clocked up big scores and the following week a completely different team ran out. It seemed effortless and resistance seemed futile.

Under Steve Hansen, it often looked lethargic and error-ridden. Opposing teams were always in the match and often in the dying moments the New Zealand team seemed to get over the line more through brute determination than pedigree.

The 2015 Rugby World Cup pool games for New Zealand seemed in keeping with this sense of frustration. Why did it all seem so difficult? Where was the sense of cohesion?

The France quarter final broke free from those shackles. New Zealand clicked and it all seemed so effortless. Passes out the back were flung with glee abandon, balls were ripped out of opponents’ hands in the air and covering defenders were flung backwards like video game characters undone by power moves.

There are days like that as a parent. Your child eats everything you offer up, they fall asleep effortlessly and everything you do is met with joyful laughter or wild enthusiasm.

Then come days like the semi final against South Africa in 2015 and the 2011 final against France. The elements turn against you. Seemingly simple tasks become an uphill battle. You turned up expecting a picnic and along comes a swarm of angry wasps to spoil your fun.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. That pearl of wisdom is attributed to the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, though incredibly he never fathered any children. It is indeed through adversity that we find out our true selves.

If things come too easily for us, we tend to take things for granted. Dan Carter, no doubt, wouldn’t have felt as good kicking those drop goals through the uprights against South Africa and Australia if he hadn’t experienced those dark moments in 2007 and 2011.

Feeling my daughter’s kiss on my cheek for the first time erased those moments of despair in the middle of the night trying to get her to sleep but at the same time they helped define that moment of pure unadulterated joy.

Similarly, watching the ball being kicked into touch in 2011 and Beauden Barrett chase down Ben Smith’s speculator last year was like seeing New Zealand’s Rugby World Cup misfortunes flash by. The missed dropped goal by Andrew Merthens, the intercept by Stirling Mortlock, the French breakaway try were past demons exorcised in that very moment.

And yet you cannot have day without night. Tears can be of both joy and despair. For every winner there sadly is a loser. It may seem like New Zealand lately have racked up more than their fair share of wins but the team is still defined by their losses to a great extent.

The thought of starting all over again with a clean slate is an exhausting one. Critics, both in and outside New Zealand, will be quick to put in the knife if standards slip.

Similarly, having one baby doesn’t mean plain sailing for the coming child. Parenthood has many rewards but one thing you quickly learn is that just when you think you have everything under control, along comes another problem to slap you in the face.

Thinking of that World Cup trophy in the New Zealand Rugby Union cabinet is like staring at my daughter. I’m really grateful for where I’m at but I’m not quite sure how I arrived at this state of affairs and if I had to point out key defining moments along the way, my answers would change with each coming day. There is no secret recipe of success you can follow. The margins between winning and losing are very narrow.

But knowing that, this New Zealand side has to take on Wales in June and a full Rugby Championship shortly afterwards. The team will be without many familiar faces and I’d be lying if I wasn’t nervous at the prospect of the inevitable teething problems that are bound to come with so much experience missing.

And yet there is a great sense of anticipation. Who will be the new faces? Who will raise their hand in the leadership stakes? Who will knock us down in our bid to remain at the top?

Much like I am trying to envisage that wrapped up bundle the nurse will hand to me in July to hold next to my skin. What will that face look like as I hold her in my arms for the first time? How will my daughter react to her first contact with her sister?

I am afraid. The doubt is there. But I am ready. I am waiting impatiently. I know that the sun can disappear behind the clouds. It might not return for a while but I know it’s always there.

I am starting all over again. There are many unanswered questions but I am ready. Bring on the new dawn.