Welcome to the jungle, Lions

when promise has to turn to reality, when the Blues must step up into playoff contention.

Umaga is an interesting man. As a player, a captain, and now as a coach, he’s always been the antiTrump, reasoned, never self serving, always giving the impression that if he could do his job without any media attention that’d be fine by him.

People who have actually seen him in action behind closed doors say that in a team environment he never sugar-coats his words, and is as tough as a coach as the player who made the famous ‘‘we’re not playing tiddlywinks here’’ statement.

The Blues keep promising without delivering, but it could be the Lions will strike an Umagarevitalised outfit at Eden Park.

Four days later the Lions play the Crusaders in Christchurch.

Now we’re talking about a plunge into the unknown.

The changes in the coaching staff in Christchurch have been huge. Todd Blackadder has been replaced by Scott Robertson, and Dave Hewett and Tabai Matson have also gone. Only Brad Mooar (former Southland head coach) is retained from the Blackadder era. New to super coaching are not only Robertson, but also former All Black Leon MacDonald, and Jason Ryan, previously Robertson’s assistant with the Canterbury team.

There’s a perception amongst people who have never lived in Christchurch that Canterbury rugby people are drop dead loyal to anyone who happens to be wearing red and black colours.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

There’s an expectation of success probably greater than anywhere in New Zealand. If standards aren’t met they don’t actually eat their young in Canterbury rugby, but they do warm up the stove.

I’ve heard a Canterbury legend snarl ‘‘gutless pricks’’ in the face of players who had just lost a game to King Country in 1992. When Blackadder started his career with Canterbury he swore crowds at Lancaster Park were so small he could pick out family members on the bank.

Nothing has really changed. A former Canterbury All Black greeted the news of Robertson’s appointment by saying, ‘‘Well, at least they’ll learn how to dance.’’

It’s certainly true that Razor Robertson, as he’s been known since he arrived in Christchurch as a tanned blond surfie boy from Mt Maunganui in 1995, is different from the usual coach in Canterbury, who tend to lean to the Blackadder/Steve Hansen laconic model. Trying to capture Robertson’s manic enthusiasm when they were playing together, Andrew Mehrtens noted that Robertson was taking a sports management course. ‘‘He seems to throw himself into that the way he plays his football,’’ says Mehrtens. ‘‘It’s like. ‘Yeah, let’s go study!’’’

The test will be whether that enthusiasm works as well with the Crusaders as it has with the Canterbury teams he’s taken to two national titles in three years.

What we do know is that Robertson’s zeal isn’t faked. If his passion lights a flame in a Crusaders side stacked with All Blacks, the task for the Lions will be monumental.

We should perhaps keep in mind that when Welcome To The Jungle reaches the first chorus it goes: ‘‘In the jungle, welcome to the jungle/ Watch it bring you to your kne..kne..knees, knees.’’