Thank goodness for the All Black bench who swooped into save a day that most definitely needed to be saved.
If the likes of Julian Savea, Dane Coles and Sonny Bill Williams had been hoping to dander on in the final quarter and have a bit of glory run, they were sorely disappointed. Instead, they were thrust into action on 55 minutes and told to sort out a performance that couldn't have been said to be unravelling as barely a stitch was ever sown.
It was only once the heavy artillery came on that the All Blacks finally looked like the All Blacks. Well, more like the All Blacks. Savea brought bump and thrust and Williams straightened the attack, but it was actually the arrival of Colin Slade from the wing to No 10 that flicked the switch.
It's not uncommon for tests to turn rapidly in the final quarter, but Slade still did his bit in capitalising on that. He was smooth, calm and accurate - qualities that the All Blacks needed.
And they needed them because for the first 65 minutes, they were all over the place and nowhere near certain of winning. Not even close.
Scotland were good rather than looking spectacularly remoulded. The big uplift for them was in their defence and ambition. Simple skills done better and with a willingness to see what would happen if they kept the ball in hand rather than hoof it down the field, they may become a decent team in time.
But the thing was they didn't have to be bright, new and shiny.
The All Blacks made life so easy for them that even Scotland from the bad old days would have been in this one. All the things the All Blacks pride themselves on, fell apart.
There was no patience, no control, no accuracy. The lineout after a wobbly start pretty much fell apart. It was wild and worrying how little the All Blacks seemed to realise they needed to get their skill execution under control.
It was a pity the prematch entertainment had to end. There was quite a good disco vibe when the lights were off and the tunes were being mixed. But sadly the lights came on and surprise - duff game of rugby was suddenly not in any kind of flow at all.
The All Blacks let every bit of their inexperience consume them. Individuals let their eagerness to perform transition into anxiety. Pass and catch ... not really. Not in any particularly memorable way anyway.
Even Dan Carter and Richie McCaw - the Lord and Lady Mayor of All Black rugby - were reduced to bumbling about as if the stadium was till plunged in darkness.
Carter couldn't hold onto the ball in the first half and it was McCaw who gifted the Scots their first try when he didn't draw the last Scottish defender and still gave the pass anyway.
Thank goodness for the bench. They really did save the day.