The French Connection and the changing face of our national game

Now that the first All Black tests of the year are over, the Saint feels like reflecting a little on the current state of our national game.
Rugby in New Zealand used to be not so much a sport, but more of a religion. However, it would be fair to say the recently completed French series highlights just how much the game has changed in New Zealand over the past few years.
This very average French team - remember they only came third or fourth in the most recent six nations championship, a competition in which New Zealanders like to bag as weak - managed to draw the two match test series with the All Blacks one-all. These Frenchies have come and gone in the space of a week. And in that time, they have taken away the silverware (the Dave Gallagher Trophy) and the All Black's reputation as being hard to beat at home, smashed up our forward pack and left our backline in tatters. And all we have managed to do was further enhance New Zealand's reputation as an attractive tourist destination with five losers beating up one of the French players on his way back to the hotel after a night celebrating in Wellington.
Yet the only reaction from the NZ public appears to be a muted acceptance that the All Blacks managed to square the series, or even buy into the coaches pathetic excuses about New Zealand only having a 'young and inexperienced' team.
To the Saint's way of thinking this is the kind attitude is why rugby today has lost much of the allure and mystique it held in yesteryear. Blame the advent of professionalism, or the fact that rugby is now played seemingly 12-months of the year, or that commercialisation of game into a multi-million dollar business, or the fact that the today's players are just plain soft and money hungry.
If you ever wanted a metaphor to see just how much the game has actually changed over the years; then nothing more portrayed this than the big plates of sushi in the All Black's changing room after last Saturday's game! Can you ever imagine players of the past like Frank Oliver, Mark Shaw, John Ashworth or any of their ilk trudging off the paddock after a hard fought game against the Frogs and happily chowing down on raw fish and rice, wrapped in seaweed?
But it is just not the sushi. Something magical has disappeared from the game that once ruled but also at one time (the South African tour of 1981) divided the country in half. Gone are the days when touring sides would come to NZ and spend two to three months - not just playing test matches - but travelling up and down the country and taking on every province, or a combination of smaller teams, as well as NZ Universities, the junior All Blacks and NZ Maori.
By the time a visiting team had left our shores; we not only knew who each member of the touring squad was, but what village and club they hailed from, their position, their proper jobs (remember these were the days when rugby was not a fulltime occupation) and number of games played on tour.
The Saint well remembers the touring British Lions side of 1977. Names like Andy Irvine, Phil Bennett, Steve Fenwick, Bill Beaumont, JJ Williams and Moss Keenan are still etched deeply in the memory. He will never forget the Lion's epic test series with the All Blacks. NZ won it 3-1, but this does not tell the full story. Things such as how the fine careers of All Black greats such as Grant Batty, Sid Going and Ian Kirkpatrick were ended. Or how the name Colin Farrell will be forever remembered as the worst fullback to have ever donned the hallowed black jersey! And how new talents such as Graham Mourie, Stu Wilson and Garry Knight were discovered.
It was during this series that Andy Irvine's place kicking for touch or the Lions' forwards beating up our scrum so badly that we had to invent three-man scrums to compete were etched into the brain.
Other premonitions include the feisty Grant Batty's 60 metre intercept try that won us the first test and then the mustachioed dynamo's shock announcement of his immediate retirement from international rugby due to a chronic knee injury. Or the handsome third test victory in Dunedin, where from out of deepest darkest central Otago came a big kicking fullback named Bevan Wilson. Or the sight of All Black No.8 Laurie Knight scoring in the corner to secure a narrow victory for New Zealand in the fourth and final test to be greeted with a handshake from an estactic supporter who had rushed on to Eden Park to personally thank the big Poverty Bay doctor for clinching the all-important series win.
These memories are still vivid in my mind more than 30 years later. Yet the recent French series is less than 30 hours old, and I am struggling to remember any of the players' names (from either team) or any highlights from the test matches - except for the sublime try scored by the French winger in the second test.
I guess it is a good thing that rugby no longer commands such a strong pull over our little country's collective conscious. Maybe as a nation we have grown up a bit - after all rugby is only a game. Yet so too has much of the romance disappeared from our national game.
Somehow, I seriously doubt that any 10-year old boy from today will be reminiscing in 30-odd years time - in a rather poorly written and non-read blog - about the fabulous 2009 French rugby tour of New Zealand!
Oh well - Ce l'est vie !