For those of you who have felt a sense of pride at how Christchurch and New Zealand responded to the mosque attacks, I want to read you some of the comments shared publicly by our friends and relatives this week, after the Crusaders announced they will consider changing their name. 

 

Edward says, “This is New Zealand, not some Eastern country.”

 

Karlene says, “The Muslim community isn’t the whole of New Zealand.”

 

Chrissie says of the shooting, “Time to get over it.”

 

Big M in Whanganui says, ‘Hasn’t the country already paid enough respect to the Muslim community.”

 

Michael says, “Why has everyone become so soft?”

 

Helen says, “Change the name Christchurch to Muslimhood.”

 

Leigh says “I think the Muslim community should step up and give the Crusader name to the team. New Zealand has been so generous in the wake of Christchurch and it’s something the Muslim community can do in return. 

 

Oh, but this isn’t us?

 

I was 11 years old when the Crusaders won their first title. I remember being let out of school to go into town with my friend and his Mum to watch the tickertape parade through Cathedral Square.

 

What a treat! It was so exciting. We’d been the competition losers up until that point, and even though we didn’t have SKY at my house, I’d devour every word written about the Crusaders in the Christchurch Press, and then try and wrangle my way over to the neighbour’s place to watch the game on the weekends.

 

Those were the real glory days of the Super 12. The early days of the professional era. We beat the Blues in the final. Paddy O’Brien was the referee. Mehrts top-scored. Toddy lifted the trophy at Eden Park and the Crusaders flew home to celebrate.

 

The next season, as a willowy blindside flanker, I won an award at my local club, and they gave me a book about rugby leadership with the ultimate Crusader, Todd Blackadder, on the cover. Bliss. 

 

It seems like an innocent time, looking back. An innocent time. Rugby’s changed. And Canterbury has changed too. The earthquakes destroyed the old Lancaster Park. And then a man took an assault rifle, drove across the city, and killed fifty people. 

 

There was a comment on Facebook that stuck out to me this week. Not the bile I repeated to you before, but a comment by a guy called Mohamed, who has a photo standing in front of the Al-Noor Mosque as his Facebook profile cover.

 

“I’m a long-time Crusader fan and welcome a name change very much. Even years before March 15th, around the late-90s and early 2000s, I was very uncomfortable with the name combination of horses, swords, helmets. I’m still a fan and always will be.”

 

This too, is us. 

 

And I’ll tell you what, it’s a side of us I’m a whole lot more proud of than the side I shared earlier. You see all of those fans, Edward and Karlene, and Helen, and Michael, the fans telling Mohamed and Muslims in Christchurch to get over it, have one thing terribly wrong. 

 

They fear the name or the imagery of the Crusaders being taken from them. They feel that they as rugby fans are being punished, they’re being robbed.

 

But not one of them has paused and considered what a unique opportunity this is to give something. Give up a name or give up some branding – I'm personally not bothered which – as a gift of sorts. Do it as a gesture. A small, simple, easy way to say ‘ You know what, the attack on March 15th changed our city forever.

 

The Muslim community in Christchurch has been decimated. But this is a wound all of us bare, and what better way to support every Cantabrian, rugby fan or otherwise, than having the most important team in town reflect that change, and rebuild?'