One game in, and supporters of the British and Irish and New Zealand Lions will already be wondering if they've got the right coach. Methinks not.
The opening performance from this multi-national force in Whangarei - against a mob of no-names who'd been flung together as patsies - was aimless and dispirited. And those were the good bits.
Coach Warren Gatland is already under immense pressure, his team of alleged superstars firing a series of shots at their own collective foot in an embarrassingly narrow win over the Barbarians. Even the Lions scrum went nowhere.
What the heck were the Lions up to? Whangarei hasn't seen so many workers lay down their tools since the refinery expansion strikes over 30 years ago.
Scotland - whose contribution to this party is a couple of popped balloons - would have played better than that. The best team lost at Toll Stadium, or Okara Park as those with any Northland affiliations would love to call it.
The Barbarians looked deeply disappointed at the end, knowing they had chucked away the chance for an amazing re-union in 20 years time. They had come oh so close to toppling a Lions team which had revealed all the enthusiasm you'd expect out of a chicken heading towards KFC.
Maybe they had left all the "it's an honour to play for the Lions" back in the pre-tour interviews.
Gatland never struck me as the right man for this assignment. He's a journeyman test coach, a decent one, but this is a job for someone with a touch of magic. There is nothing special about Warren Gatland, not that you can seen from a distance anyway.
Heavy manipulation, a la Clive Woodward last time, doesn't work. Sheer tactics won't work. Over analysis won't work. Any hint of smart-arse mind games won't work.
The Lions requires that special character as a coach, someone who can get alongside this weird mix of international opponents, wielding caring and wise authority. Somehow, they have to quickly find their own mantra. Instead, this Lions team looked like they'd have trouble finding their way back to the hotel.
All the doubts I had over Gatland came flooding into view from the moment the Lions forwards let the opening kickoff sail over their heads. No one even jumped.
They relied on a few big bodies lumbering up field, Ben Te'o and Kyle Sinckler in particular. Yes, veteran lock Alun Wyn Jones found a touch of mongrel, eventually. And there was something about replacement Owen Farrell which promised something.
At fullback Stuart Hogg made you wonder why there were so few Scots picked in the squad, that's when he wasn't making you wonder if Gatland had picked one Scot too many.
The sense of disorder was heightened when replacement hooker Jamie George ran on the field when he wasn't supposed to. Starting hooker Rory Best appeared to send him back. George retreated, with a grin. Everyone else grimaced.
All power to the Baabaas, who were supposed to lose much better than this. At least the Lions were reminded that beneath all the welcoming stuff, the only thing which interests the Kiwi rugby mob is winning.
And the All Blacks would have shown no mercy and beaten that Barbarians team by 80 points.
It was as if the Lions watched the Crusaders and Highlanders smacking the heck out of each other earlier in the day, and decided to run up the white flag.
Let's hope this is not the shape of things to come, that this tour isn't a disaster, because they won't win another game going on what happened in Whangarei.
The Lions were as bad as the Warriors (Lions supporters - that's an over-hyped local league team which implodes every year). The terrible news from London won't be helping.
But where was the Lions' attitude, the fight, the desperation? And where - you also felt inclined to ask - was Bad Boy Dylan Hartley? Get him over here. Quick.