A MAORI FOOTBALL MATCH.

Taranaki Daily News, 1 October 1921, Page 11

A MAORI FOOTBALL MATCH.

A REMINISCENCE. (By “The Skewer.”) There was great excitement ten or twelve years ago in the windy Wellington district. The annual biff and bang game between the married and single was to take place at W<aikanae, and that town, with Otaki, being the home of the Maori the Maori takes his “putball” very seriously. The day of the great match arrived, fund the marrieds were one man short, due to 4 ‘te wahinb having te pikenniny,” and Rupo-b got haurangi (full) to celebrate the event, and although he announced that he “would play te head off anybody in New Seelan’ and kick Tally Metenger for te gold,” the team wouldn’t stand him.

The teams were mostly composed of Maoris and half-castes, and they looked around for another man to take Rupob’s place. The Maori is more wily than the heathen Chinee when occasion arises, and one pf the double-harness team spotted an innocent abroad, a player from the Taranaki Northern League, whom he knew. He chatted the Leaguer to play for “te vvahine side.” Hemiti, being a bit of a character, agreed to play, and he was drummed to say he was married and had just bought a place at Riki Rangi, a suburb of Waikanae. Temit-i was provided with an old red and black jersey without sleeves, and a pair of swimming pants, and as the Maori loves color, there was every team in New Zealand represented, from the All-Blacks to the Christian Endeavour.

The teams took the field during a “haka” by the different tribes who had assembled to see the fray. The usual scratch match argument took place as to who should be playing and who should not. The singles held a korero over the new “ferra.” “He no pray, referee, he te All Brack man, no kood te New Seelan’ pray Waikanae, not fair for us!” The stranger denied he was an All-Black, but Rangi exclaimed, “I kno’ tat man, referee; t’at is Timon Minos, te five ace, Taranaki. I kno’ te face on te Tikarette (cigarette) kard,” The 1 pronouncement led to an angry argument, till Tommy Parata, te rangitira, and, by the way, a great orator, addressed the Natives, and welcomed the stranger to Waikanae,' and informed the Maoris that it was against Native custom to show te riri (anger) to strangers. At the conclusion of the oration, one Native said, “Have you kot te key te whare for te pere, Tommy ” “Yes,” replied te rangitira. “O’right, Tommy,” kapai we get te Pakeha pray. Ko on, Pakeha, pray te praee you t’ink pest.” The Leaguer took centre three-quar-ter. Four others reckoned they were playing three-quarter, and three played five-eighths. One Native said, “I pray te rivet (pivot) in the skrum.” At last the game is started, and the innocent one takes the ball at top speed, made an opening, and gave a hot pass to the half back, who, with eyes standing out and yelling for the ball, has got near the scratch line. The hot pass knocked him over on top of a Maori dog that had strayed on the field, and the two of them knocked the referee down. The dog retaliated by biting the line umpire. After breaking dear, the “kuri” streaked for the pah. The ball got ambushed among the forwards, and after a hot time it was picked out and thrown about fifteen yards forward, amidst great appeals to the referee: “Knock it on', referee”; “To pig enough to pass“; “Pree kick.” The kick was allowed, and Tommy Parata piloted the oval over the clothes 'line that was tied between two tawa branches about six feet apart that served for goals, the heights of the clothes lines being about six feet three inches above the ground. The goal created great enthusiasm amongst the marrieds’ barrackets, much cheering and hakaing taking place. This reverse got the singles' blood up. and they followed the kick off like fanatical Egyptians. The fast man of the single team got hold of the ball, and, with a great run, beat nearly everyone on the field, but the innocent one is there, and takes him low. A hard tackle and Te/Kooti is carried off mortally wounded, amidst great cheering, it being the first low tackle seen in those parts. “Ho’fr you to tat, Pakeha? I t’ink you New Seelan’ ferra o’right. Te Waikanae man kat te man too high. Py kdrrie, you kat him row. You ket te game with te fraxmill team if t’ey see you pray. You te pest man pefore.” The battle started again from a scrum, and a hot forward rush was set up by the singles, who kicked their way through, and the Leaguer, going down to the rush, was kicked by every make of boot in New Zealand. Friend and foe kicked alike, with kindly thoughts of Von Tempsky and the Forty-Third at the Gate Pah. The innocent one emerges from the mix-up with the loss of half a pair of pants and a pint of blood. At this stage the ball burst, and a new one could not be found anywhere, but “Mustard” solved the problem by informing the teams: “I kno’ where te pladder for te ball —up at Ruru’s prace; te kow die Monday. I ko ket him.” The bladder was secured, and the ball laced up. Hostilities broke out again from a line out, and fierce scrummaging, scrapping, and scragging took place up the field, down the field, and across, everywhere. At last the singles broke through the defence and scored, with a loud shout of delight from their supporters, and the turning of numerous Catherine wheels and hand springs by the players. But the double-harness team objected. “No skore, referee. Ka-meron he no kround te ball; Moki hold him up.” The try was allowed, but t'he kick at goal was a dismal failure, the ball hitting the spectators on the scratch line. The scores now being equal, the game became a violent struggle between two blood-drunk teams. The Leaguer, for the first time in his life, appreciated the .New Zealand artillery. The spectators had gone mad, also the players, although a worse game could not have been played between a fire brigade team and a flaxmill mob. Time is now drawing to a close, and the Leaguer has given a pass, and isbusy in extricating himself from three wild-eyed barbarians who have collared him after the ball has gone. He escapes with a flesh wound, seizes the oval, and scales for the line, beats everyone on the field, and fails to score, he ) seeing that a draw is the only means by which peace may be proclaimed. Time is now called, and great Sorrow is expressed amongst the married team 'because “te Pakeha has te hard luck to lose him te ball. Never mind, Pakeha, kum to te smoke konsert to-night and ket te pere.” The -innocent one arrives, and ie rooked for “half a kaser” after being invited.