It's over. The rugby ball-shaped, rose-tinted glasses are grudgingly coming off and my eyes are adjusting to a life without the Rugby World Cup tournament but at least knowing that the All Blacks have finally won the elusive Webb Ellis Cup.
One point is all it takes to win (just ask the Silver Ferns) and so we'll take it.
Like Brad Thorn, I cried like a baby when the final at Eden Park came to an end. October 23 was the longest and most exhausting day of my life.
I've been to three World Cups as a player, which was just as emotionally intense, despite the lack of widespread public support and hype associated with the men's game.
As a player, however, there is that sense of control (be it small) you have over your destiny. As a supporter at Eden Park, Party Central, or in a living room somewhere in New Zealand there is a sense of helplessness.
What can we do to help out the team?Some bikers showed their support by escorting the bus to Eden Park. Thousands of fans felt that buying a black jersey or flag, wearing face paint and holding up witty and not-so-witty signs would swing luck and good fortune our way.
Well, it did - just. The final was intense and probably aged me by 10 years.
Very few predicted that a prop would score the first try, and that a fourth-string first five would slot a penalty kick that ended up being the difference between a win and a loss. As a Manawatu supporter, I was gutted when Cruden went down.
In the aftermath of the team's amazing achievement, are Slade and Cruden a bit like the middle children in a family - overlooked and forgotten?
Negativity aside, the difference between watching the World Cup live versus on a screen is that viewers can't feel the noise waves. Sixty thousand people willing the players, team and referees with our voices alone is an amazing collective experience.
Individuals gasped in unison as Cruden went down, and clapped hysterically as Donald came on. Clapping was our way of saying "OK dude. We've given you a hard time up until this point but we're backing you to play the game of your life tonight".
There was deafening silence as everyone held their breath when the French penalty kick was taken and missed.
When Richie McCaw went down injured with only minutes to go and the All Blacks were hard on defence, a hum started to rise from the crowd. It was as if we were picking him up with our words of support and patting him on the back.
The crowd went bonkers when he signalled he was OK and there was no backward step from that point on. Advice was being given from all corners of the ground: "Kick it!", "Pass it", "Hold on to it!".
Whatever we said didn't matter, but it felt as if we could influence the outcome of this titanic clash with our tactics.
When the clock signalled 80 minutes had passed, no-one dared to relax. It wasn't until McCaw put his hand on the shoulder of Ellis who dutifully kicked it out that everyone finally exhaled to release a joyous cry, cheer, hug, jump, and scream.
The volume in that stadium blew a hole in my eardrum but I didn't care. it was a glorious ride on cloud nine.
If we think coming back to Earth for us as supporters is hard, imagine what it will be like for the players, coaches and support staff. The honeymoon period will pass and some will be able to adjust better than others.
The French have been gracious in their defeat (something we as New Zealanders could learn?) but perhaps they are realising how excruciatingly close they came and vented their frustration on New Zealand's version of paparazzi snapping them licking their wounds in a French cafe.
I have credit card receipts to assess the damage the RWC 2011 has made to my bank balance.
Cost of Rugby World Cup tickets? $4000. Cost of travelling to and from games? Too much to mention. Being there when the All Blacks beat the French in a nail-biting final to hold the Webb Ellis Cup aloft once again? Priceless.
