Major associations Wellington and Otago have thrown New Zealand Cricket's problem child a lifeline ever since Central Districts showed him tough love in 2004.
The cricketing calamity has since drifted like a nomad without a camel through endless summers of deserts to find traction with any tribe willing to put up with his shenanigans.
Black Caps captain Brendon McCullum has expressed his reservations about Ryder's propensity to again be disruptive in the team environment.
Ryder left the Firebirds last year, reportedly citing a deterioration of rapport with teammates.
His off-field antics range from grappling with weight issues (ex-international Adam Parore in 2008 questioned "too-fat" Ryder's selection) to exorcising his drinking demons (the latest one with Doug Bracewell in February last year).
This isn't an exercise to bore you with details of Ryder's indiscretions, which are enough to make Kevin Pietersen look like a little nipper off field.
Yes, Ryder fell cheaply for 13 and 28 in his two digs in Otago's crushing defeat to the Central Districts Stags during the opening round of the Plunket Shield match at Nelson Park, Napier, in the past four days.
Typically statistics can be massaged to back just about any argument so why go there?
It can't be easy for a player, who always believed he was destined to represent his country, to be proving his worth at domestic or some North v South Twenty20 match.
Regrettably for Ryder, his biggest test is still avoiding a hit-wicket dismissal in the tumultuous game of life.
Does the left-hander want to play for New Zealand, let alone New Zealand A?
Should anyone care?
Well, Ryder should because his childhood ambition's fast switching lanes - at 30 his biological clock must be ticking.
You see, what is more disconcerting than Ryder playing hard to get is the Black Caps batsmen's inability to eke out runs in the march towards the ODI World Cup in February/March .
The Mike Hesson-coached men do not need someone who can smash a 39-ball ton for Otago against a second-tier nation, such as Ireland, or second-division county bowlers.
No, they need batsmen who can occupy the crease for meaningful sessions to build or chase decent totals.
For a hybrid batsman to bash a quick-fire score to provide a platform for victory in key matches is akin to a lottery, fostering a T20 mentality.
What South Africa showed was the need for openers who can take the shine off the ball.
Test captain Hashim Amla, averaging 50-plus in the red-ball format as well as ODIs, only has a strike rate of 51.48 and 88.60, respectively. On a "virgin, dead track" at Mt Maunganui, the tourists didn't seem perturbed by the pedestrian start to their innings in both winning ODIs. Even Amla looked uncomfortable in starts before making the most of second chances.
Amla, 31, a devout Muslim, has reportedly had alcohol sponsorship logos removed from his gear (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, Ryder).
In keeping with what former CD Stags coach Dermot Reeve used to drum into his batsmen, Amla and fellow opener Quinton de Kock have treated every ball as an event.
De Kock is only 21 and average 35.14 in tests and 45 in ODIs with a strike rate of 54.54 and 90.18, respectively.
The leftie took a few body blows but was 80 not out in the abandoned third ODI in Hamilton when Amla went cheaply.
Captain AB de Villiers, Faf du Plessis (also rested) and JP Duminy steered the ship after the openers did the hard graft. Rilee Russow and David Miller are the apprentices.
Juxtapose that with the Black Caps and only Dannevirke-born Luke Ronchi oozes stick-ability with 79 and 99 runs.
That Ross Taylor and Kane Williamson are out of the equation is a blessing because it begs the question: "Who else wants to hang around at the batting crease?"
Jimmy Neesham, Tom Latham, Corey Anderson are interns but opener Martin Guptill and Dean Brownlie should know better.
As CD Stags coach Heinrich Malan told his young charges, a time comes when the honeymoon phase dissipates and runs must start to flow.
It doesn't help, of course, when captain Brendon McCullum comes in at No4 to swat any delivery like an errant fly with four wickets down.
The Ryder theory, I'm afraid, is just a stopgap solution.
It smacks of desperation and sends mixed signals of indispensability to any players who may think they are God's gift to the country's No1 summer code.