Yeaterday, at the start of one of those tours that used to illuminate the drabness of our autumns, the New Zealand All Blacks, still the only name that carries with it a built-in electric prod, unveiled Ali Williams, Daniel Braid, Regan King and Danny Lee.
I'm sorry, but their names didn't exactly generate a power surge up and down Richmond Hill. Back in 1998, England went on what was to be dubbed, almost affectionately by the survivors, the Tour from Hell. It wasn't just a matter of where they went but of who went on it. From a one-off Test in Australia to two in New Zealand and a final one in South Africa (via Hong Kong), the England B team with a bit of C thrown in were battered across the southern hemisphere. There were casualties, such as poor Dominic Chapman who was never heard of again, and there were players for whom this was all part of their schooling, like a physics lesson where you don't quite get Newton at the first attempt.
Jonny Wilkinson as an 11-year old, if I am not wrong, played in Brisbane, lost 0-76, missed just about every kick at goal and was thereafter world class. Even Newton must have gawped at a few windfall apples before he cracked the laws of the universe.
Everywhere England went they were politely welcomed. Well, in Cape Town they were. Until, that is, Clive Woodward marched his men out of the hotel laid on by their South African hosts and into the swanky Mount Nelson gaff. Elsewhere it was a bit less courteous. John O'Neill of Australia ripped into this insult - as the chief exec of Oz rugby perceived it - to the touring tradition, or to his gate receipts at least. New Zealand chuckled and promised to be gentle, which they weren't. It was generally agreed that this sort of thing should not be allowed to happen again.
And now, four years down the line, it seems the All Blacks have decided that a tour of England, France and Wales does not merit their full attention. They arrived yesterday without 14 of their Canterbury players, and, since the multiple winners of the Super 12 have provided the bulk of the All Black squad over the past few years, it's a bit like the Lions heading off without an England contingent.
As captain the All Blacks have Taine Randell, well-enough known for exploits past and still young enough at 27 to be at the peak of his powers, but who was rather unceremoniously dumped before the start of the last Tri Nations series. There's Andrew Mehrtens, but no Justin Marshall. No Byron Kelleher, either, to make the scrum-half contest for places a bit tasty. No back-row regulars, those kings of the Kings' game: no Richard McCraw or Scott Robertson or Reuben Thorne. Even Jonah is only here because in the past, before the days of heavy musculature worldwide, he ran over a few - well, quite a few - of us. I can't deny there is a temptation to do a full John O'Neill here and rant about the dilution of the epic. El Cid has gone shopping, Clint Eastwood is grooming his horse, the Terminator is feeding the tomatoes. Some of the All Blacks have been given a rest.
But then you pause and think it might not be such a bright idea to swat the wasp, however dopy it looks at this time of year. If any team can do Europe economy-style and come away as million-dollar winners it is the Kiwis. And if Jonny Wilkinson can learn from the torture of the Tour from Hell, what are this lot going to absorb? Back in the mid 1980s, when the rebel Cavalier tour went to fight - sorry, play - in South Africa, the NZRFU dressed up a gang of kids in the All Black strip. They were called the Baby Blacks and, by the time of the World Cup of 1987, formed the nucleus of one of the most formidable sides the game has ever seen: Sean Fitzpatrick, John Kirwan, Michael Jones... the list is long. So, before we do indignation and dismiss these tourists as nobodies, perhaps we should have a look at them first and, in the meantime, consider them as not-yet-household. They will be athletic and massively, but massively, determined. But they are not the All Blacks at full strength. England and France must beat them. Clive Woodward said last week that he was not afraid to lose to the All Blacks. Maybe not the full All Blacks, but his England simply must beat these stand-ins, however bright their futures. If not, the chances of doing well in the World Cup will be shattered.
That is a rather negative way of looking at England-New Zealand at Twickenham, and I apologise for it. It is the very cautious-first spirit that Woodward himself is trying to expunge from the England camp. And what's the point of selecting the likes of James Simpson-Daniel and Marcel Garvey if you're going to make your style on the field as cautious as your spirit? But I can't help wondering about the mind games here. John Mitchell has come with these as yet untested tourists. What can he lose? If the game, then so what? He has his Tri Nations championship-winning first team back at home, taking the winter off in preparation for the real thing next year. If he wins, then what a kick in the teeth to the England team he used to coach. What a nudge in the ribs of those same All Blacks with their feet up in Christchurch, who suddenly have a fight on their hands to regain their places. For a brief moment this looked like the tour that might iron out the goosebumps that came with the All Blacks. Not so. They have a message for Clive Woodward's England and Bernard Laporte's France. Even Steve Hansen's Wales may begin to feel the dreaded lick of expectation. The message is: beat us or be damned. And nobody dishes out rugby damnation better than an All Black, whatever his age or anonymity.
