I remember a scene from the 1999 gangster film Payback, starring Mel Gibson before he became Hollywood poison after some drunken slurs about people who follow the Star of David.
Gibson's tough-guy character is sitting in front of a Mafia underboss, demanding his stolen money back from whoever is making the decisions.
When he is told a committee would have to make that call the impatient Gibson cuts the crime figure off.
"One man ... you go high enough you always come to one man. Who?"
That's the question Warriors fans have been asking throughout the past seven days after the machinations of business "partners" Eric Watson and Sir Owen Glenn, which collectively has New Zealand's largest privately-owned sporting franchise in such a state of disarray.
Both sides have been angling publicly for the moral high ground in this boardroom pissing contest since the axing/resignation of embattled coach Matt Elliott on Monday.
In keeping with his KNZM, Glenn is trying to be the noble knight by defending the condemned Elliott from his dishonourable discharge, which Glenn as part-proprietor says was done without his knowledge.
Watson, through his loyal underboss Bill Wavish, has made it clear that Glenn knew as much as his previous interest in their club showed he had ever wanted to know. Glenn's representative on the board was aware Elliott's departure was coming and that little titbit was passed on to him, they claim.
That's it. The way it's always been, because since 2000 this is Watson's Warriors. His sporting vision.
Except that according to the paperwork, it isn't.
With the exception of a few business brother partnerships, or father-and-son combinations with a clear plan of succession, you will never find a professional sporting franchise where 50/50 ownership is smooth sailing.
Even with the best of intentions, the egos are far too strong.
Always, to safeguard stability (and liability), the arrangement should at least call for a 51 per cent majority owner and a 49 per cent junior partner.
Certainly the second man retains influence, but at the end of the day, the guy at the top makes the final call and lives with the credit or consequences.
When Watson decided he needed some capital and reduced his 75 per cent majority through Cullen Investments back to exactly half of the Warriors, with Glenn taking the rest, he must have known this day would be coming.
That the fate of New Zealand's only NRL club hangs on the fact two individuals simply don't like each other anymore should have been safeguarded against in the "black and white" contract print, rather than the shades of grey Glenn is maneuvering within about who exactly should decide what.
Signing a deal without concrete clauses on the understanding the other bloke will remain a relatively silent partner, and then discovering 18 months down the track that he's "changed his mind", which a free-thinking individual is allowed to do, always leads to turmoil.
I can't help but contrast this verbal spat with the mature approach taken at the other end of the North Island from the announcement of Hurricanes coach Mark Hammett's departure at the end of this Super 15 competition.
Last month I wrote a column praising CEO James Te Puni for standing behind Hammett against the strongest voices calling for his head. Presenting a united front no matter what certain individuals were thinking internally.
Cut Hammett loose mid-season and perhaps prepare for the wooden spoon, I said.
Instead, "the Hammer" will now leave with a tuppence worth of honour to seek opportunities elsewhere, while the Hurricanes board can publicly, yet quietly, search for his successor.
Meanwhile the players suffer as minimal disruption as possible because they feel everything is "sweet-as" at the top end.
There's no blood on the axe, in fact, it was never even lifted off the wall.