Teams spend long hours training and much time travelling away from home.
On the field, no prisoners are taken. The tackles are crunching, there are plenty of hospital passes, along with fights and squabbles and many injuries.
It all takes place in front of baying and often hostile crowds.
And you thought rugby was bad enough? We’re talking about politics.
The attributes of compassion, hope and belief, and experience are too easily smothered by those of ego, ambition, aggression and selfishness.
It’s not for nothing it is often said precisely the wrong type of people get to the top in politics, though that is also the case in other workplaces too.
When it comes to leaders, however, a balance is necessary. You don’t want someone who is a shrinking violet.
People need to feel inspired by someone impassioned enough by the issues to take a strong stand and call for change. That generally requires grit, perseverance and, yes, a touch of the mongrel from time to time.
For the past few weeks, Prime Minister Chris Hipkins has been trying to shrug off not just Covid-19 but also increasingly pessimistic polls which suggested, correctly as it transpired, that Labour was on a hiding to nothing this election.
Covid messes with your body and brain in the weirdest ways. The timing of Mr Hipkins’ illness during the election campaign could hardly have been worse unless, perhaps, it had occurred during the last week of it rather than the penultimate one.
Putting on a brave face for a prolonged period to keep your team motivated takes a toll. It’s never good for anyone to bury their fears deeply and try to carry on normally.
To come straight out of a largely restless isolation and go back on the stump as if nothing has happened would probably go against any doctor’s advice.
There really was no other option for Mr Hipkins, but it makes you hope he has not opened the door to longer-term health problems and illness by not resting and recuperating like most people would.
On Saturday night, understandably shattered and overwhelmed by the past few weeks, Mr Hipkins cried.
This was not the feisty Chippy, who just 48 hours earlier had taken the wind out of National Party leader Christopher Luxon’s sails with a some might say too-strong comment about Tauranga MP Sam Uffindell’s beating of a fellow pupil while at Auckland’s Kings College.
Several times during his concession speech at Labour’s headquarters in the Lower Hutt Town Hall, hot stings of moisture forced their way forward and filled Mr Hipkins’ eyes with tears.
Any why wouldn’t you cry after expending so much energy? You’d have to be pretty cynical not to feel some empathy for Mr Hipkins after his party took a battering at the hands of the country, and he watched as the same red tide which brought in so many Labour MPs dragged them back out again.
Tears of sadness, tears of frustration, tears of exhaustion.
How tearful have our prime ministers been in the past? Did Rob Muldoon cry when he lost to David Lange in 1984? How about Jenny Shipley when beaten by Helen Clark in 1999?
But tears are not a bad thing or a sign of weakness at all, rather an indication of commitment to the job of prime minister and how all-encompassing it is.
They symbolise humility and a good person.
Mr Hipkins’ job to secure another government term for Labour was extremely challenging given the widespread mood for change. It was even more difficult to do so in the shadow of his predecessor Jacinda Ardern and the huge Labour victory in 2020.
The Labour caucus and Mr Hipkins himself will now be discussing where to from here.
Mr Hipkins remains one of Labour's most experienced politicians and may well be the best person to lead the party into opposition.
There it will need to make a swift recovery, a strong opposition being essential in a robust democracy.
