This column was originally intended as a plea to Beauden Barrett, that he get the boots out and zoom down to Blues training.
It's revolution time pal, but only if you're there. So how about doing a u-turn on your decision to have a break?
Then reality set in.
I contacted the Blues in hope more than anticipation, and they duly confirmed that the great man will only be on deck for "full duties" from April 15.
And who can blame him, after those long, demanding, high pressure years (and countless airline flights) with the All Blacks and Hurricanes?
Rugby proper starts in just under three weeks' time when Warren Gatland's Chiefs roll up to Eden Park for a Super Rugby date with the Blues.
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The season finishes a mammoth 10 months later when the All Blacks haul themselves onto Murrayfield for the inevitable slaying of Scotland.
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Heavy contact sport doesn't have to be this way. And given what its combatants go through, it shouldn't be this way.
The NFL knows what it is up to.
NFL overtook Major League Baseball as America's favourite pro sport a long time ago, and maintains this position with a 17 week regular season. Just five weeks later it's all over with Super Bowl.
Players get an amazing break, and fans have their appetites whetted.
And then, wacko, when the new season starts, this amazing thing happens. All the players are ready to play again.
If rugby was a proper professional sport, a new Blues era would start - probably in late March - with one of the greatest players many of us have ever seen in the spotlight.
Right now, I'm guessing the best way of keeping up with B. Barrett is to go play on Twitter. Rather than a grand entry, he'll have a soft launch.
But as I said, you can't blame exhausted All Black legends like Barrett, Sam Whitelock, Brodie Retallick and co. from working a few deals involving rest periods for themselves.
It is hard to point the finger of blame for this anywhere in particular, because no one designed this schedule, which is the problem.
There are so many blurred lines that even the player unions seem to be fiddling while their players burn out. Rugby, the ultimate team game, has become the sport of individual side deals and staggered starts. So why the mess?
Openly professional rugby came into being as a rushed necessity, after visionaries or mercenaries depending on your point of view made remarkable headway in luring the best players to a renegade outfit in the mid 1990s.
In an astonishing moment of rugby energy, the establishment fought back. Then it sat back, thinking the war had been won, that it could basically carry on operating as a sort of paid amateurism.
But as with a lot of wars, the moment of victory was a lot sweeter than what was to come. Uneasy and imperfect alliances, and shaky competition formats, had been formed. Rugby was still at war, with itself.
We're often told that sport teaches us about life. But if the people running rugby were running the world we'd all be huddling in bomb shelters.
The arts of negotiation and compromise in the name of a grand vision barely exist in rugby union. The international rugby board is a cartel of self-interest and smugness, with members allergic to making concessions. Aligning all the parts of the game has proved impossible.
Professional rugby started so brightly, enjoyed a few wonder years, before the problems came to the surface.
It was forged at the time of the 1995 World Cup, which produced an unusual glow.
For many of the people who were in South Africa in 1995, Nelson Mandela's appearance at the final remains a highlight of their sporting journeys. Footy intersected with and influenced a world event, in the humble shadow of one of history's most amazing figures.
The cruel apartheid system had been broken, and a man long imprisoned under it was now the leader of his country.
This was a kind of miracle, one enhanced by South Africa's unlikely victory over the All Blacks. Rugby seemed blessed.
But sport only thrives on drive, inspiration, smart planning, clever leaders and a reasonable supply of cohesion.
Rugby has precious few of those traits which is why, in a few weeks' time, we will troop off to Eden Park, or turn on the TV, and Beauden Barrett won't be there.