There's a chance that 2022 will signal the start of the most dazzling era of domestic professional rugby this country has seen.
There is also a chance that a perfectly healthy family of giant moa will emerge from scrubland near Inangahua.
The odds would be shorter on the latter.
Today's announcement of New Zealand Rugby's plans for Super Rugby beyond 2021 was one of those "what the…" moments you assumed had been fully exhausted in a year where we discovered that rock bottom was by no means the worst bottom.
Like a 16-year-old upset that nobody is coming to his party, NZR has suddenly decided that Wayne from metalwork class, who they've barely spoken to for three years, is their new best friend. And the bloke whose name they can't remember but who can fit a whole packet of Winfield 25s in his mouth. Invite him too.
What a party it's going to be.
No Reds, Waratahs or Brumbies? No worries, we'll get the Force, which is only 5453km from downtown Auckland and has a rugby culture only slightly more robust than South China, which is naturally where another franchise would be sourced from to be based in Tauranga.
The above appeals only as a really convoluted way of accessing Andrew 'Twiggy' Forrest's bank account details.
Sanzaar has toyed with the idea of South Pacific island involvement in the past and apparently NZR is doubling down on that by considering bids for a Pasifika side from both Moana Pasifika and Kanaloa Hawaii. Most would love to see it, but the rhetoric around the lack of corporate support that has precluded either from appearing in 2021 has to be a worry.
Then there's Fiji Drua, which like the Pasifika options, begs the question why it would be suddenly viable now at a time when the rugby finances, in both hemispheres, have never been more distressed.
You suspect the reason is this: NZR are just making this up as they go along.
Super Rugby as we knew it and a long, long time ago loved was broken beyond repair, the victim of illogical expansion, ever-changing formats, unfixable logistics and a very real apathy.
Things had to change. The runaway success of Super Rugby Aotearoa would have crystallised thinking around the sort of rugby New Zealanders want to engage in beneath the All Blacks.
Quite how we've gone from that – which will be essentially repeated with the addition of a final next year – to the 2022 proposal is anybody's guess.
Again, these are unprecedented times so you have to give administrators more runway than usual, but the trees are fast approaching for this iteration of the NZR board. The principal function of a board is to set out the organisation's strategy and direction and to employ people capable of following it through.
In which case, this board has succeeded beyond even the most cynical observer's wildest dreams… if the strategy was to isolate itself from its most powerful allies, while proposing a 2022 tournament that makes as much sense as booking Judas Priest for the marquee slot at the Parachute Festival.
At the current rate, the imaginary Wayne from metalwork class would have more strategic success armed only with a dart and a dartboard.
It's time for a fresh voice at NZR to get on the blower to Australia.
The first words should be: "G'day mate…"