For over 40,000 people, the Sevens are an emotional rollercoaster, a week that combines delicious anticipation, months of planning, and inevitable last-minute pandemonium. It's about more than rugby. If you could bottle the raw emotion in the stadium, you could probably change the world.
There's the excitement of old friends flying in as the exchanges of e-mails and phone calls finally come to fruition. The joy of reuniting with children flying back from universities overseas. For some, nothing compares to the thrill of bringing a deal across the line after getting to know a client over a cold beer and shared rugby camaraderie. Equally valid is the chest-pumping pride of parents in the march past, or watching their kids score a try on the pitch where some of the greatest players have launched their careers.
And then there's the pride in your nation, the reminder that you have nationalistic leanings still buried deep in your soul. You may have thought it eluded you after years of being a corporate nomad living in a kaleidoscope of cultures all rolled into a few compact, happily co-existing square miles. But when the commentators call out the name of your country, something, somewhere deep inside, erupts. Yet somehow rooting for Hong Kong is equally satisfying. You can't explain it to visitors, but when the home-town seven take to the pitch, you're like a raw nerve ending.
For the people working behind the scenes there's the white-knuckle fear that keeps everything running like clockwork. Months of planning, precision and praying to the rugby Gods have reached their zenith.
For the players, there's the desire to win after struggling to get selected and years of dedicated training. The journey to get here that is not just a few hours on a plane; it's a lifetime of liniment and injuries, bruises and blood, sweat and even tears.
If you're hosting visitors, every preciously calculated square foot of your flat is fair game. Last-minute shopping nearly clears supermarket shelves and practically causes shortages of bedding and pillows.
But the magnanimity of the rugby spirit takes over. You'd happily let these guests occupy your hallway in sleeping bags. 'Can I borrow that sleeping bag to wear to the sevens dressed as a slug?' 'Can I turn your duvet into a Michelin Man costume?' This is small potatoes to Sevens hosts.