RUGBY’S BRAZIL
... but All Blacks only have the same financial clout as Bournemouth
The expectation is of rugby’s Brazil. Same profile, same wonderful flair for the game, same passion and meaning, same iconic status. even the look. The famous monochrome, rugby’s equivalent of that brilliant canary yellow shirt. So beautiful. So striking.
Yet, whatever we imagine from distance, it isn’t quite like that here. On Tuesday, when All Blacks assistant coach Ian Foster and two first XV players spoke at the team hotel, there were 19 in the room, including cameramen and photographers. Brazil, at World Cups, bring cities to a halt. Crash barriers are erected to corral the hundreds of media clamouring for their attention.
Yet this is still progress, of sorts. In the aftermath of the first backto-back Rugby World Cup wins, the value of the All Blacks brand has been encouragingly calculated at around £161million. huge: until one realises that Manchester United are over eight times bigger. Forget Brazil. Bournemouth are currently considered to have greater brand value than the mighty All Blacks.
Amid the debate about the merit of a British and Irish Lions tour, its value in the uber-professional world of modern sport, one place where no dissent is heard is the southern hemisphere. The visit of the Lions in 2013 as good as saved the finances of Australian Rugby from calamity and while no- one would mind being a dollar behind New Zealand Rugby, there is still breathless reporting of the 20,500 visitors from the north and their £ 15.2m boost for the regional economy in Auckland alone.
MeANWhILe, whisper it quietly, in the country that is said to be defined by its rugby prowess, a nation of rugby tragics obsessed like no other, some of the best seats for the first Test — those priced at around £250 — remain unsold. They will not be among the banks of red, that much is certain.
Donncha O’Callaghan, Irish second row forward, tells a story from the Lions’ last visit here in 2005. he said he needed to buy laces for his boots and went to a local sports shop. he was wearing his Lions gear and was clearly recognisable as a member of the touring party. The lady behind the counter refused to serve him, saying she would not help the Lions beat the All Blacks. Over some laces.
Warren Gatland has been at pains to point out the friendliness of the welcome extended to his squad, but an unpleasant experience for tour manager John Spencer — a ferocious Lions player here in 1971, now bald and pushing 70 — while dining in an Auckland restaurant, shows the misguided intensity felt by some of the island’s 4.6m inhabitants.
This is a country that uses rugby — and sailing, because the America’s Cup is every bit as important — to announce its place in the world. It’s hard to get noticed, here at the bottom.
At a time when the prevalence of global travel turns every major airport into a tiresome, shuffling, laborious process, Auckland can still be approached at a breezy canter. Few clog up the system in transit, or pass through. Anyone who comes here, is coming here. This is the last stop before the ice.
So, from such remote location, New Zealand are rightly proud of their domination in two sports. Respect is due. Just as when Iceland — population 330,000 — defeated england’s footballers in 2016, the pride of a small nation in sporting achievement is palpable.
Ireland, alone, has more people than New Zealand; so does Scotland. Neither have ever been rugby world champions.
It does not follow, either, that just because the people really get into a sport, a country dominates, otherwise england would be good at football. What New Zealand have achieved, their playing style, their production line, is remarkable.
It’s different here. A television review in a national newspaper this week was of Flight of the Conchords, a show that was broadcast ten years ago. The writer wanted to discover if it was still as funny as he found it in 2007. he decided it was. This would be like re-watching the first series of Gavin & Stacey because there was nothing else of interest being produced.
So far, so parochial. Yet, in rugby terms, New Zealand has wholly outgrown its local environment. There is nothing left to challenge them in the southern hemisphere right now. South Africa are in disarray again, Australia, too. Argentina have been added to the TriNations, but are very much junior partners. It could explain why the RFU were unwilling to pay a £4m appearance fee for the All Blacks at Twickenham.
ENGLAND are packing out HQ, no matter the opposition. So, far from being in a position to demand, as great as they are, the All Blacks need england, just as they desperately need new worlds to conquer.
It explains why they travelled to Chicago to play Ireland, why there is an All Blacks shop selling hybrid surf gear in Soorts- hossegor, south west France, why regular trips to Japan are now being undertaken and why New Zealand Rugby were so keen to play up five days spent with the US Marines.
They need to show that the All Blacks matter globally. This desire for reach also explains why the haka has taken on ever-increasing significance in recent years. The memory plays tricks. We imagine the haka has always had its place in New Zealand rugby. Not true.
It was first performed by the touring New Zealand Natives — the team that has evolved into the Maori All Blacks — against Surrey in Richmond on October 3, 1888.
Yet, for close to a century, it was rarely a part of home matches and appeared only sporadically on tour. The Lions tourists in 1971 were not confronted by a single haka in 24 games.
It took Buck Shelford, an All Blacks captain who did not lose in close to four years, to revive a fearsome haka for the 1987 World Cup. he insisted the team practised it as intently as they did lineouts.
Before, if performed at all, it was shambolic. Under Shelford it became the embodiment of All Blacks rugby. Others, like scrumhalf Piri Weepu, led the haka and took it on. Now? It increasingly has the air of a marketing tool.
Certainly, there is a lot more posturing and tongue action than in the Shelford or Weepu days. equally, on this tour, even the club sides have delivered hakas before games. It is as if there is an attempt to brand the tradition, as part of the spectacle of New Zealand rugby, in its entirety. While it is certainly evocative, growing familiarity can only devalue. The performance should be electric, not expected.
Tomorrow in Auckland, we hope to see the All Blacks as we imagine them. We hope for rugby’s Brazil. Iconic, daring, audacious. Away from the environs of eden Park, it is different. This country is becoming increasingly urban, with rural rugby clubs struggling because rural communities are struggling and a new generation of immigrants who are as likely to prefer rugby league.
Since Australia’s footballers vacated the Oceania confederation, New Zealand have had a — relatively — successful football team, too. They are competing at the Confederations Cup right now.
And while the All Blacks are perceived as the national ambassadors, one of their officials said this week, that if the country wins the America’s Cup, the rugby will be relegated to a supporting role behind sailing. ‘It’s leading all the bulletins already,’ he frowned.
So, yes, in one way, it’s just like watching Brazil. In another, it’s every bit as big as Bournemouth. You might say it’s different down here.