It is our Turangawaewae, our sacred whare, to be defended at all costs, that seems to lift our country up on high to a domain reserved for the holy, whenever we do the damage against our Ngati Skippy foe from across the Ditch.
The writing was on the wall. Well, it was written right across the park in dark black ink and, best of all, not a fluoro piece of footwear to be found on the feet of the boys in black.
And fair suck of the sauce bottle, mate - did our Broblacks deliver in droves on Saturday night.
There are so many points of difference in this test to the one we watched and wept into our televisions over the previous Saturday night in Sydney.
In a pipi-shell we tied down, no, we hog-tied Skippy, and sent him waltzing home to a tune that was more half mast than it was Matilda.
For my two bobs' worth of old-school straight up the guts, hard yards rugby started when the ABs stepped out on to Eden Park and there wasn't a fluoro piece of footwear to be seen.
Oh how my mum would have been high-fiveing in Heaven to see the return of the black boot, and to see her Kevie with his cute ears leading the haka. Well, that is worth another round of pakipaki (applause).
So what was the recipe for success on Saturday night?
Was it the born-again back line bros, alias Smith and Nonu?
For many it was a religious experience to watch the Cake Tin cuzzies reunited, blowing the opposition away like a piece of possum fur, walking along a windy Wellington waterfront, sitting on Donald Trump's head.
But as my good Ngati Skippy mate Ferro would say, you buggers have nine forwards on the field with Nonu.
It's like he's hunting for a family heirloom that has been stolen by the opposition and he doesn't give up until he gets it back.
Or was it the curse of the Tokoroa kid called Cooper, who coat hangared the smallest kid on the Eden Park playground and paid the ultimate price in a penalty try - and a 10-minute lag in the henaki (sin bin)?
Some say it starts and ends with the quality of your coaches and your captain when it comes to winning the big-ticket tests.
It would be hard to offer up any other answer when it comes to Sheriff Hanson and his posse, and their heroic deputy, Quick Draw McCaw. If only we could bottle the beatitudes of this once in a lifetime sporting toanga (treasure) we have all shared and enjoyed for over 150 first-class tests.
Here is a man who walks with the soft-hearted feet of Willy Apiata, quietly and humbly spoken, with an attitude of gratitude for the wonderful cards life has dealt them.
But just beneath the bonnet is the growling engine of an angry warrior, out to get utu on any team that dares to try and take away the mana or the family heirloom of All Black rugby.
Perhaps it is pointless to try and pinpoint the recipe of Saturday night's success, just as it is trying to interview an out of breath Brodie Retalick, as he heads to the dressing room defibrillator at halftime for a well-earned breather.
(What is that halftime pointless interview about? It belongs with fluoro footy boots and give up your hard yards with box kicks to the bread baskets of the other team, in my opinion.)
Whatever works, let's savour it and look forward to many more magic moments of winning rugby.
It has worked for the All Blacks and seems to be working for coach Clayton and our Steamers.
The recipe that Sheriff Hanson and his deputy Richie "Hard Core" McCaw cooked up and served to the Ngati Skippys on Saturday night is a recipe for success for all of the faithful fans, here in the land of the long white try-line.
broblack@xtra.co.nz
-Tommy Kapai is a Tauranga author and writer.
