I was in Suva, the capital of Fiji, making a film, and our crew took over half of the Grand Pacific Hotel. One day after work, I came back and the pool was full of maybe 40 of the most beautiful men I had ever seen, flapping around in the water. It turned out they were the Flying Fijians, the national rugby team, there for the World Rugby Pacific Nations Cup.
I could feel the hope for a win and the dread of a loss so palpably; in Suva, whether it's a good or a bad day depends on how their team played the night before. At each end of the stadium, hundreds of kids were peering through the gates, all wearing the white jersey of their favorite player. It felt so important to everyone.
Most of the people in the stadium were related in some way to a player because it's such a small island, so there's this familial pressure, like, 'You'd better bring this trophy home, son, or we are going to have a problem tonight at the dinner table.' They did win, in the end, and it was electrifying.
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