All Blacks performing the haka before the Rugby Championship match between Argentina v New Zealand. Photo / Photosport.co.nz
OPINION:
No one could accuse Ireland of lacking ambition, having set their sights on winning not just one series in New Zealand next month, but two.
By agreeing to a three-test clash with the All Blacks and a two-test series with New Zealand Maori, Ireland have signalled they are not just flush with confidence, but that they are also happy to jump back in time to give Generation X the sort of nostalgic thrill they believed rugby would never again deliver.
A couple of clashes with New Zealand Maori is hardly comparable with the extended tours of old, but it's as good as its ever going to get in this age of digital and corporate infatuation, where the USA, Japan, and TikTok are considered the holy trinity and rugby's path to salvation.
Ireland's desire to intensify their New Zealand experience is as much an act of inadvertent rebellion as it is a genuine high-performance strategy.
They have made a statement – not deliberately or provocatively – that they are prepared to fight for rugby's soul by embracing and promoting an alternative vision for the international game.
The quirk of timing here is that the fight is somewhat futile as Ireland are going to give everyone a strong taste of the past by embarking on a deeper immersion experience in one nation, just as the game is about to commit itself to a long-term programme of quick-hit visits to play one test and move on.
As a result, the rugby events of July will simultaneously be celebrated and mourned as Ireland's visit to New Zealand will end up being a sad reminder of what could have been.
We will be treated to five epic games in which it is inevitable that Irish heroes and villains will emerge and our collective sense of who they are and what they stand for will deepen. Inevitably New Zealanders' collective respect for Ireland will grow.
Rugby is determined to engage its fan base, and staring the sport in its face is the most obvious way of doing so – go back to the golden age of touring.
They really were the good old days and not because they produced epic tales of alcohol-fuelled mayhem, but because they built storylines that were enduring and compelling.
The classic tours of old tested individuals the way rugby is supposed to, and it seems certain that if players and coaches have to sojourn through some of the game's least hospitable venues, that a whole lot more people may be interested in seeing what happens.
We see it every four years with the British and Irish Lions, how extended time can split or galvanise a group depending on how it all goes on a Tuesday night in Palmerston North.
Everyone loves the Lions, not just because of the history and the novelty, but because they never fail to be interesting and while rugby hasn't been great at recognising that they can have too much of a good thing, there is a limitless appetite for old-fashioned tours.
But alas, this blast of nostalgia that is coming in July will carry the bitter sweetness of being a last glimpse at a future that rugby is rejecting.
For the past decade, international rugby outside of the core tournaments of Six Nations and Rugby Championship, has built itself on quick-hit missions.
The thinking has been to get in, get out and move on to the next country. The July and November test windows have been filled by some obsequious machine that has seemingly spat fixtures randomly into available dates with no sense of purpose other than to fill them up.
The system produces, only by chance, the odd classic fixture but it is universally recognised as broken and the perennial question has been what to do about it?
And yet, despite the fact no one loves this 'one test here, another there and one for the road' set-up, it is this philosophy which is at the heart of the Nations Championship proposal, which would seem almost certain now, after constructive World Rugby talks earlier this month, to be given the greenlight to begin in 2026.
The Nations Championship has its attractions, chiefly the truckload of broadcast cash it will deliver. It will also generate a greater sense of purpose and meaning for the wider international programme, but it is hard to understand why everyone is as excited as they are about this latest plan to play three tests against three countries in July and another three tests against another three nations in November.
This is not revolutionary or transformational and seems to be just a more organised continuation of what we have had.
The Nations Championship is a triumph of packaging rather than a fundamental fix: it is just the same old, same old, except this time we will keep track of who has beaten who and let the two with the most points slug it out in a final.
And you can be certain, that because there is going to be a final, that an increasing number of exotic venues will be prepared to offer up a stash of loot for a little slice of the play-off action.
Hong Kong, Tokyo, Yokohama, Chicago and Washington DC have dangled enough dollars to bring the international rugby circus to town in recent years and give this superficial sense the game is growing its global footprint and winning new fans.
Once the Nations Championship is established, how long before the final will be hosted by Qatar, with Shanghai and Las Vegas next in line?
Rugby bosses will convince themselves that this is what fans have always wanted and their private-equity investment chums will produce all sorts of supporting data about digital audience growth to prove it.
But what may become apparent in July is that rugby's path to salvation does not lie in the rapid-fire world of one country, one test. Nor is it going to be saved by playing in iconic US stadia, or by bored oil sheiks looking for a new distraction on which to spend their cash.
Rugby seems unlikely to win this fight for hearts and minds by offering us more of what we have already said we don't want even if it does come all bundled up like a mini-World Cup for the self-chosen elite.
Rugby needs more grit, less glitz and as ridiculous as this may seem, the sport's greatest hope of retaining its old audience and winning a new one, lies in long tours and the muddy fields of Invercargill, New Plymouth and Napier.
