Lots of people have by now analysed the Scotland vs All Blacks pool game. Probably every move the players made has been talked about and every minute of the game discussed.

But how do mortal supporters with an average knowledge of rugby experience a game? Who can say whether missed conversions are due to the wrong type of ball or to Dan Carter's skills (or lack of them)?

I will tell you my story. The idea to go and see an All Blacks World Cup match live at the stadium came to my friend Hugh and me on a rainy day in Auckland in the end of 2006.  Actually it was more of a crazy dream which we didn't really believe would come true.

'Once in a lifetime you watch an All Blacks game and they have to wear GREY! It was especially senseless because the aim of this non-black jersey, to differ from Scotland's, was not achieved'


Even the tickets for the second-class seats were not particularly cheap, neither were the flights to or the accommodation in Edinburgh.

But somehow we clung to our dream. Having been in New Zealand for half a year and calling ourselves All Blacks supporters, it seemed like a disgrace that we hadn't yet seen our heroes playing live.

Plus, the day the game would take place was my 18th birthday and it would be held in my favourite European city. It was meant to be that i should be there, my host dad said.

And so we decided to let our money go. We were sure it would be worth this once-in-a-lifetime experience- and ordered the tickets. From that moment there was nothing I was more looking forward to than September 23. The fact that I would reach my age of majority that day paled into relative insignificance.

When we finally got the tickets, we were even more excited and looked after them as if they were some holy sacriments that absolutely must not be lost. And then the weekend came…

We flew from Frankfurt Hahn airport in Germany on September 21. Anxious to show our support, we got our NZ and All Blacks flags out of our suitcases and wrapped them around our backpacks. “Nice!” says a guy in the departure lounge, grinning. Later, when some fans dressed in black jerseys boarded the plane, the passengers applauded.

But this was nothing compared to what we saw when we walked down Princess Street the morning of the game. Edinburgh had turned all black.

Every direction you looked, you saw the small silver fern attached to people's clothes. There was more All Blacks merchandising than you could possibly find in any All Blacks store in New Zealand. Blue training gear, long-sleeved fleece jackets, black-golden shirts and, of course, the original jersey in lots of different variations.

We, too, were wearing the black jersey and never in my life - though I´m not even a Kiwi - had I been prouder of any clothing.  It felt so good to be part of it - and to show it.

People were playing rugby on the streets and you saw happy and excited faces everywhere. We smiled at the black-clad fans walking by and they smiled back. “Go the All Blacks”, they shouted. We understood each other.

For one day, thousands of people were connected by one dream, one pride, one love, to a sport, to a country and to the best team in the world. For one day, everyone wearing the silver fern was a friend.

It wasn't hard to find Murrayfield Stadium, you just had to follow the black crowd of people whose unity was from time to time broken by a dark-blue Scotland jersey. We arrived at the stadium one hour before opening, and there were already masses of people all around.

“Programmes, official programmes” shouted an enthusiastic salesman while two Scottish teenagers played songs on their bagpipes. A guy handed out little Scotland and New Zealand flags, but he ran out of the NZ ones really quickly. His attempt to get rid of the Scottish flags by offering them to All Blacks fans was not very successful. He didn´t dare to approach us, though. With our flags and jerseys we definitely didn't look like we´d accept a Scottish flag.

Our seats were on the South side of the stadium with a pretty good view over the whole length of the field. We soon realised that we are surrounded by either French or Scottish supporters, but we didn't really care. Now the game was the important thing.

Some 40 minutes before kick-off the players came onto the field. While the Scots looked very active and ran around their side of the field together, the All Blacks didn't seem to be too enthusiastic.

All Blacks prop Carl Hayman shuffled onto the field, looked at the grass and tried to dig his boot into it.
Skipper Richie McCaw walked the width of the field at a very leisurely speed, talking to coach Graham Henry - apparently a sufficient warm-up for him.

While the Scots went through a strict exercise routine for about half an hour, the only New Zealand player who really seemed to do something to prepare for the game was Carter, who kicked balls through the posts from different angles - with a success rate of nearly 100 per cent.

With five minutes to kick-off, the All Blacks finally got started and did some running and practised a couple of lineouts. Then it was already time for the national anthems.

As the All Blacks lined up, we were slightly confused because they were wearing greyish jerseys. Once in a lifetime you watch an All Blacks game and they have to wear GREY!  It was especially senseless because the aim of this non-black jersey, to differ from Scotland's, was not achieved. Both teams' kits still looked pretty much the same.

Still, we got up for the NZ anthem and proudly sang 'God defend New Zealand'. A hint of a shiver ran down my spine and then came the Haka. They did the new one, the controversial one and the throat-slitting was intense as always. The crowd roared while the Scottish team tried not to look too foolish watching them.

And then, finally, kick-off. Although the All Blacks didn't even come close to their best form, it was great to watch the game in this atmosphere. Mexican waves went through all around the stadium and as the All Blacks score mounted, the Scots started to get desperate.

“Go Scotland”, screamed a woman some rows behind us - but somehow her support didn't seem to work.
Doug Howlett broke the try-scoring record of the All Blacks and Carter seemed to create his own record in missed conversions. But he's only human and you should concede a day of bad form even to a half-god like Dan.

At half-time we went to get some fish and chips and were confused to see a girl with “I love Richie McCaw” painted on her cheeks - and a Scotland flag in her hand. You got something wrong there, girlie, we thought.

Twenty more points followed in the second half and Carter compensated for his poor kicking with a beautiful long-run try that he converted easily for a change. The crowd cheered.

The game was over far too soon.  The All Blacks won 40-0, which wasn´t much of a surprise, and the Scots, though disappointed by the fact that they didn´t score any points, took it pretty well. I really respected their huge support in a hopeless game like that.

As the New Zealand song 'Why does love do this to me?' played, we followed the crowd out of the stadium and felt a slight hint of sadness as we realised it was over.

We were almost through the Murrayfield gates when we got the brilliant idea that there might be a chance to see the All Black players as  they left the stadium. At the west end of the stadium was a sign saying 'Players' exit' - and a huge crowd of fans and security people told us we were in the right spot.

Barriers were lined up to hold back the fans and we got a pretty good place right behind them. We waited quite a while and the more supporters gathered behind us, the more excited we got. Two buses moved up and screams from the barriers closer to the exit told us that the first players were coming out.

Mils Muliaina walked by and loaded his bag onto the second bus - then came back to give us some autographs. Some more All Blacks came out but to our great disappointment Anton Oliver, Luke McAlister and Chris Jack just walked by without acknowledging the fans. A lot of Scotland players followed. They looked pretty exhausted and seemed relieved when some fans called for their autographs.

When the Scottish bus finally left, more All Blacks appeared. Rodney So'oialo, Byron Kelleher, Aaron Mauger, Hayman and Joe Rokocoko were amongst the really nice ones who stopped to sign books, flags, jerseys, balls and whatever else their supporters held out to them.

Their bus, too, filled up as we suddenly heard girls screaming at the top of their voices: Who else could create such excitement with his female fans than Daniel Carter? And right, a couple of moments later the great man approached us. We almost got squashed at the barrier, which was really close to tipping over when all the girls behind us pushed into Dan's direction to get his signature or at least a better look at their admittedly good-looking  hero.

After he'd written his name what seemed to be a couple of hundred times, Carter also got onto the bus - and the doors closed. Wait a minute, we thought, where is McCaw? Then we saw him, on the back seat of the bus, waving and grinning. The captain was clever, we realised: While everyone was distracted by Carter´s appearance, the famous No.7 had secretly sneaked onto the bus without being noticed. His fans were not impressed.

Slowly the bus rolled towards the gate, around the corner and was gone. It was over - the game was definitely over now. The fans dispersed and we left the Murrayfield area.

It had all gone by too fast, we thought, far too fast for a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But then a brighter thought came into our minds: In 12 months' time the All Blacks will return to Europe - for their end of year tour.

Do you have any special personal memories of the All Blacks? Leave a comment below or submit an article to Sportingo if you prefer.