VARSITY MEN MOLD HIGH CARNIVAL

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 23, 19 April 1927, Page 13

VARSITY MEN MOLD HIGH CARNIVAL

BATTLE OF THE MASCOTS Kumerakka, kumerakka, kau wau wau! Boomerakka, boomerakka, bau wau wau! Brass tacks, tin tacks, Four Inch nails! A.U.C.! (fortissimo). Shrieking this fearsome anthem, hordes of gesticulating students in various stages of deshabille flung themselves into a miniature Donnybrook at the Domain yesterday. The Battle of the Mascots had commenced in all its splendid fury. From an outer gate, a little band of students solemnly marched on to the ground in Indian file. They were Canterbury men; or ■ about a dozen of them all told. Their lack of numbers was explained by a wag in the party as being due to three of their best “rooters” having been “run in”

before they left Christchurch. But they bore up bravely under their misfortunes. At the head of the procession, the leader carried an enormous Easter egg, the chief ingredients of which subsequently proved to be plaster of paris and asbestos! The'Cantabs’ opening yell of defiance was the signal for a general onset from all quarters of the ground. The sports were momentarily forgotten. Even the prospect of a New Zealand inter-varsity record, which was later established, failed to stem the tide of hilarious students. The megaphonist frantically called for order, and then as if realising the hopelessness of the situation, resigned the loud-speaker with a broad grin of appreciation to watch the antics of the invaders. AN ANNUAL AFFAIR The Battle of the Mascots is the piece de resistance of every intervarsity tournament. It is an institution in itself, and when the trump of battle sounds, all else is forgotten. Last year, the fight for the mascots broke out at the tournament ball, caused, tis said, by an adventurous student climbing up ’twixt roof and rafters, and releasing a rival mascot, which fell with a terrific thud in the middle of the dancers. Its appearance was the signal for the male dancers to hurriedly hustle their fair partners to a place of safety, remove evening coats and dinner jackets, and pile into a Rugby scrum of mammoth proportions. This year, Otago set the ball rolling bj* producing its mascot —a plaster of Paris kewpie—at the boxing champion-

ships, where it was duly torn to pieces, Auckland at present being the proud possessor of the arms and legs. Yesterday’s programme was started by Canterbury, and when the Christchurch mascot had been reduced to little pieces, Auckland produced its famous kiwi. For safety’s sake, the brass claws and beak had been removed beforehand, but it was still substantially compounded. Concrete, packed with sawdust, represented the "innards” of the ill-used bird, which was encased in leather. AUCKLAND'S TURN Shouts of “Akarana! Akarana!” preceded the advent of Auckland’s peculiar pride and joy. From the stand and enclosures, the students swarmed by the score. Out on the

green sward in front of the stand, they formed up under the call leader, and rent the air with this: Haere mai te taua! Hi! Kokiri te taua! He! Ara ko te wai o ti hoe! Hei koti hei koti! Ha! A free translation goes something like this: Here comes the enemy. They are about to charge. But it is only the spray from your paddles, To be swished! To be swirled! From which you will gather that the enemy are only small potatoes after all. This cheerful Hymn of Hate recalls the Cromwellian lines: "The Lord has made them stubble for our swords.” The horrors that befel that unfortunate kiwi will not bear repetition. Not even his concrete interior could save him. His mangled remains were scattered far and wide. Here, a dishevelled student triumphantly waved aloft a shred of leather or a chunk of concrete. Others, tenderly caressing bruised shins and torn collars and shirts, reluctantly retired from the fray. Such a one, limping toward the stand at the close of the battle, was interrogated by. an exuberant fellow student in this wise: “Were you in that last scrap?” Back came the crushing reply “I was fn all those scraps!” Toward the close Of the day, there were cries to the Victoria men: “Where’s your teddy bear, Wellington?” But the Wellingtonians were wise birds. While the hilarious students from the other varsities were making merry, the men from Poneke had gradually tightened their grip on the championship shield, and when the last event was decided, Wellington was the winner by a handy margin. Victoria’s teddy bear was not produced yesterday, but as far as the sports were concerned, it was the “cock of the walk.”