The Official NZRFU Auckland Blues Thread

As A Man Thinketh: Spotlight on Coach Tana Umaga.

Chapter One

Thought and Character

The aphorism, "As a man thinketh in his heart so is he, "not only embraces the whole of a man's being, but is so comprehensive as to reach out to every condition and circumstance of his life." This is the genesis of the infinite wisdom that Dr Umaga brings to his role as Auckland’s rugby savior. A man is literally what he thinks, his character being the complete sum of all his thoughts and Dr Umaga is the sum of the sun, the moon, of all of the suns, of all the other worlds, and of all of their orbiting cakes and biscuits.


Just another day in sunny downtown

Onehunga now that Tana is in charge.

As the plant springs from, and could not be without, the seed, so every act of a man springs from the hidden seeds of thought, and could not have appeared without them. This refers to Umaga’s pre-season training and planning regimen. In laymen’s terms, all the shit that, say, ex-coach Pat Lam never fucken did, at all, ever. This applies equally to those acts called "spontaneous" and "unpremeditated" as to those which are deliberately executed. In laymen’s terms, Umaga’s acts of unpremeditated spontaneity are deliberately executed. Think about  that for a minute.


“Before, with the dipshits Kirwan, and Lam, and Nucifora, there were only rains and pestilence. Now we have waterfalls. How about we get my tap all wet, baby?”

Act is the blossom of thought, and joy and suffering are its fruits; thus the last 17 Auckland Blues seasons have been a suffering endured to garnish the joy to follow; and thus does a man garner in the sweet and bitter fruitage of his own husbandry*

*but not animal husbandry. We are not Cantabs. "The dog is all good and well but I shall not wed thee" Tana may have once said.

Man is a growth by law, and not a creation by artifice, and cause and effect is as absolute and undeviating in the hidden realm of thought as in the world of visible and material things. If you kick the fucking thing out on the full, that is the cause, and the effect is you are Tasesa Lavea. A noble and Godlike character is not a thing of favor or chance, but is the natural result of continued effort in right thinking, the Umaga way, the effect of long-cherished association with Godlike thoughts, revolving around The Blue Day of Coronation. An ignoble and bestial character, by the same process, is the result of the continued harboring of groveling thoughts. Ergo, visa visa, the Cantab.


Tana has brought an idyllic calm, even to the mean & unwed dogtown streets of downtown Mangere.

Man is made or unmade by himself; in the armory of thought he forges the weapons by which he destroys himself. Just ask Nucifora or Kirwan. He also fashions the tools with which he builds for himself heavenly mansions of joy and strength and peace. This is what Tana does. Not that first bit.

By the right choice and true application of thought, man ascends to the Divine Perfection; AKA Gus Pulu’s godhead jailbreak try up the guts versus the dumbo Melbourne Rebels in Round 1. By the abuse and wrong application of thought, he descends below the level of the beast. See Owen Franks with his hand down his gruds, then sniffing the fucken thing. Between these two extremes are all the grades of character, and man is their maker and master. Owen doesn't HAVE to sniff it, under the monster-truck glow of the unmissing halogens. But he does.


Hold on, what the FUCK is that thing on the left?

Of all the beautiful truths pertaining to the soul which have been restored and brought to light in this age, none is more gladdening or fruitful of divine promise and confidence than this - that man is the master of thought, the molder of character, and maker and shaper of condition, environment, and destiny. That man is Tana Umaga and his destiny is a big fucking YES PLEASE.


Holy shit. Even the notoriously hard-to-please Chinese community in

Howick are happy with Coach Tana.

As a being of Power, Intelligence, and Love, and the lord of his own thoughts, man, AKA, Tana, holds the key to every situation, go for the 3, take the tap, etc, and contains within himself that transforming and regenerative agency by which he may make himself what he wills. I am Wrath, I am All Worlds, I Am That Which is Wrought Upon Thee, as Tana probably says to himself when he’s on the shitter lately.


JESUS, there's the fucking thing again!

Man is always the master, even in his weakest and most abandoned state; but in his weakness and degradation he is the foolish master who misgoverns his "household" or “Super Franchise.” This refers to a couple of fuck-ups Tana may or may not have made in his first season coaching the Blues. When he begins to reflect upon his condition, and to search diligently for the Law upon which his being is established, he then becomes the wise master, directing his energies with intelligence, and fashioning his thoughts to fruitful issues, like getting rid of shitty players. Such is the conscious master, and man can only thus become by discovering within himself the laws of thought; which discovery is totally a matter of application, talking into the little mouthpiece to get a message to the sidelines, self-analysis, and experience. In summary, that is now, in 2017, for the aligned planets have foretold it Thus spake Zarathustra, etc, etc.

Oh shit, wrong picture, never mind this guy.

Hans from Austria, if you must know.

Only by much searching and mining are gold and diamonds obtained – in laymen’s terms this is known as Tana getting pricks in from Counties Manukau - and man can find every truth connected with his being if he will dig deep into the mine of his soul. And that he is the maker of his character, the molder of his life, and the builder of his destiny, he may unerringly prove: that he will watch from the coaches box, control, and alter his thoughts, tracing their effects upon himself, upon others, and upon his life and circumstances; if he will link cause and effect, yes, even the Tasesa Lavea Effect, by patient practice and investigation, utilizing his every experience, even to the most trivial, whether Prattley is even awake on the fucken bench down there, as a means of obtaining that knowledge of himself. The mantra shall be “let’s get the f**kin thing downtown”, in this direction, as in no other, is the law absolute that "He that seeketh the tryline findeth; and to him that does not knocketh-on, it shall be opened"; for only by patience, practice, and ceaseless importunity can a man – Tana – get these useless pricks to their first fucken Super Rugby title since before baby Adam was shitting fucken goatmilk.