In praise of the Bledisloe
November 4th 2008 11:01
Last Saturday, the Wallabies and All Blacks took part in an historic encounter in Hong Kong. It was an occasion worthy of both celebration and damnation.
On the negative side, although the match may have been an official part of this year’s Bledisloe series, in reality it was nothing more than a revenue-raising exercise. Given that no less than three tests had already been played between the two countries in Australia and New Zealand, there was no valid sporting reason to stage a fourth- and in Honkers of all places.
Exploiting such a hallowed rivalry in such a crude fashion must necessarily tarnish it. Of course, because only one of these glorified exhibitions has thus far occurred, the sheen that has come off the Bledisloe tradition is but slight and easily restored. However, if these far-flung fixtures are to become a regular part of the Anzac rugby calendar, the lustre will bit by bit begin to fade away. And that would be of concern not just for supporters, but also the accountants and marketing men responsible for devising and promoting these exotic clashes.
Paradoxically, though, while the ARU’s shameless pursuit of bundles of cash may cause the bile to rise in some people’s throats, there is no denying that bundles of cash are exactly what the ARU needs. Ever since the highly profitable 2003 World Cup, the governing body has been haemorrhaging money. As interest in rugby union has been declining, so have the ARU’s coffers, and at an alarming rate. And it is a problem that may soon worsen; the SANZAR nations are about to negotiate their next television deal, and due to the declining popularity of their product, not to mention the credit crunch, there is a good chance that they will receive less than they have been banking on. It was amidst this gloom that the fourth Bledisloe was conceived.
Even before last Saturday, there was talk of organising a sequel, with one of the proposed venues being Tokyo. That would be a perfect choice for two reasons. Firstly, as the financial powerhouse of Asia, Japan is just the sort of place where sponsors would pay handsomely to gain exposure. Secondly, Japan- which possesses both a reasonably competitive domestic competition and a basic understanding of the game- is one of the few countries in the world to which rugby could, given the right combination of time, funds and planning, be successfully exported.
Consequently, the ARU has been looking for some time at growing the game in Japan, and forging a stronger relationship with the Japan Rugby Football Union. That was why, in 2005, Australia pushed hard for the 2011 World Cup to be awarded to Japan (only to watch in dismay as shameful politicking caused it to be handed to New Zealand). It also explains why John O’Neill, since reassuming the chief executive’s role last year, has openly pondered the idea of awarding Japan a spot in an expanded Super 15 or 16 competition.
All this scheming is based on the belief that in a rapidly changing world, standing still is not an option. The twin aims of the ARU are to increase rugby’s popularity and profitability, and neither will be achieved by doing things as they have always been done. In such an intensely competitive sporting landscape as Australia’s, retaining fans- let alone converting new ones- is a challenging proposition. That is why money is needed; money to market the game, money to prop up the states and clubs, and money to support the grassroots.
Money is also needed to ensure that the most gifted players remain in Australia. For the last few years, the ARU- just like the New Zealand and South African Rugby Unions- has been fighting an increasingly hopeless battle to stop stars such as Rocky Elsom and Dan Vickerman heading to the increasingly richer European leagues to ply their trade. While the ARU will never be able to remunerate its players as generously as those foreign clubs, the more money it can offer during contract negotiations, the less talent it will lose. That is essential, because a talent drain can trigger a vicious cycle in which fewer stars leads to reduced playing standards, which leads to reduced spectator interest, which leads to reduced ARU revenue, which leads to less money being offered during contract negotiations.
It was perhaps inevitable, then, that the idea of a fourth Bledisloe should have come about. For the ARU (and NZRU), there could have been no simpler and quicker way to make money, which explains why follow-ups are likely to occur. However, a word of caution needs to be sounded; in the rush to make an easy profit, one must not forget that the tenderest of loving care needs to be bestowed on the goose laying these golden eggs.
Sooner or later, when casual observers grow accustomed to the concept and when fans grow cynical towards it, the novelty value will be lost, and with it a considerable part of the commercial appeal. In other words, the Bledisloe can only be cheaply exploited for so long. To allow the Bledisloe’s reputation to be tarnished would be a double tragedy, because the sullying would be occurring for diminishing financial returns. Tests between Australia and New Zealand must always be significant and keenly anticipated affairs; they must never be allowed to become humdrum encounters that seem to serve no purpose beyond the making of money. To draw an analogy, the Bledisloe must always be maintained as rugby’s version of the Ashes, as opposed to a meaningless one day international. This is an instance in which less is more.
What all this means is that the ARU is being pulled in two different directions. On the one hand, it needs to flog the Bledisloe for all its worth, but on the other it has to desperately resist the lure of over-exposure. Can there be a way to reconcile these seemingly conflicting priorities? As it so happens, there is.
By combining the best part of the traditional approach (competing for the cup over three meaningful matches) with the best part of the contemporary approach (developing new markets such as Japan), a sensible compromise would be reached. If two tests were played in Australia and New Zealand and a third overseas, the benefits would be numerous. Each side would have an equal number of home games; the series would be far less likely to end in a draw; the lustre of the cup would be preserved; and the cash would continue to roll in. Best of all, we could return to praising the Bledisloe, instead of damning it.
On the negative side, although the match may have been an official part of this year’s Bledisloe series, in reality it was nothing more than a revenue-raising exercise. Given that no less than three tests had already been played between the two countries in Australia and New Zealand, there was no valid sporting reason to stage a fourth- and in Honkers of all places.
Exploiting such a hallowed rivalry in such a crude fashion must necessarily tarnish it. Of course, because only one of these glorified exhibitions has thus far occurred, the sheen that has come off the Bledisloe tradition is but slight and easily restored. However, if these far-flung fixtures are to become a regular part of the Anzac rugby calendar, the lustre will bit by bit begin to fade away. And that would be of concern not just for supporters, but also the accountants and marketing men responsible for devising and promoting these exotic clashes.
Paradoxically, though, while the ARU’s shameless pursuit of bundles of cash may cause the bile to rise in some people’s throats, there is no denying that bundles of cash are exactly what the ARU needs. Ever since the highly profitable 2003 World Cup, the governing body has been haemorrhaging money. As interest in rugby union has been declining, so have the ARU’s coffers, and at an alarming rate. And it is a problem that may soon worsen; the SANZAR nations are about to negotiate their next television deal, and due to the declining popularity of their product, not to mention the credit crunch, there is a good chance that they will receive less than they have been banking on. It was amidst this gloom that the fourth Bledisloe was conceived.
Even before last Saturday, there was talk of organising a sequel, with one of the proposed venues being Tokyo. That would be a perfect choice for two reasons. Firstly, as the financial powerhouse of Asia, Japan is just the sort of place where sponsors would pay handsomely to gain exposure. Secondly, Japan- which possesses both a reasonably competitive domestic competition and a basic understanding of the game- is one of the few countries in the world to which rugby could, given the right combination of time, funds and planning, be successfully exported.
Consequently, the ARU has been looking for some time at growing the game in Japan, and forging a stronger relationship with the Japan Rugby Football Union. That was why, in 2005, Australia pushed hard for the 2011 World Cup to be awarded to Japan (only to watch in dismay as shameful politicking caused it to be handed to New Zealand). It also explains why John O’Neill, since reassuming the chief executive’s role last year, has openly pondered the idea of awarding Japan a spot in an expanded Super 15 or 16 competition.
All this scheming is based on the belief that in a rapidly changing world, standing still is not an option. The twin aims of the ARU are to increase rugby’s popularity and profitability, and neither will be achieved by doing things as they have always been done. In such an intensely competitive sporting landscape as Australia’s, retaining fans- let alone converting new ones- is a challenging proposition. That is why money is needed; money to market the game, money to prop up the states and clubs, and money to support the grassroots.
Money is also needed to ensure that the most gifted players remain in Australia. For the last few years, the ARU- just like the New Zealand and South African Rugby Unions- has been fighting an increasingly hopeless battle to stop stars such as Rocky Elsom and Dan Vickerman heading to the increasingly richer European leagues to ply their trade. While the ARU will never be able to remunerate its players as generously as those foreign clubs, the more money it can offer during contract negotiations, the less talent it will lose. That is essential, because a talent drain can trigger a vicious cycle in which fewer stars leads to reduced playing standards, which leads to reduced spectator interest, which leads to reduced ARU revenue, which leads to less money being offered during contract negotiations.
It was perhaps inevitable, then, that the idea of a fourth Bledisloe should have come about. For the ARU (and NZRU), there could have been no simpler and quicker way to make money, which explains why follow-ups are likely to occur. However, a word of caution needs to be sounded; in the rush to make an easy profit, one must not forget that the tenderest of loving care needs to be bestowed on the goose laying these golden eggs.
Sooner or later, when casual observers grow accustomed to the concept and when fans grow cynical towards it, the novelty value will be lost, and with it a considerable part of the commercial appeal. In other words, the Bledisloe can only be cheaply exploited for so long. To allow the Bledisloe’s reputation to be tarnished would be a double tragedy, because the sullying would be occurring for diminishing financial returns. Tests between Australia and New Zealand must always be significant and keenly anticipated affairs; they must never be allowed to become humdrum encounters that seem to serve no purpose beyond the making of money. To draw an analogy, the Bledisloe must always be maintained as rugby’s version of the Ashes, as opposed to a meaningless one day international. This is an instance in which less is more.
What all this means is that the ARU is being pulled in two different directions. On the one hand, it needs to flog the Bledisloe for all its worth, but on the other it has to desperately resist the lure of over-exposure. Can there be a way to reconcile these seemingly conflicting priorities? As it so happens, there is.
By combining the best part of the traditional approach (competing for the cup over three meaningful matches) with the best part of the contemporary approach (developing new markets such as Japan), a sensible compromise would be reached. If two tests were played in Australia and New Zealand and a third overseas, the benefits would be numerous. Each side would have an equal number of home games; the series would be far less likely to end in a draw; the lustre of the cup would be preserved; and the cash would continue to roll in. Best of all, we could return to praising the Bledisloe, instead of damning it.
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