But even if you believe the World Cup is our society's equivalent of bread and circuses, a rudimentary grasp of economics and psychology should tell you that if the All Blacks were to win the thing, it would do far more for the economy and national mood than any conceivable election outcome.
Besides, why is this election such a big deal? All the evidence suggests that National will win on the basis of nothing more substantial than John Key's personal appeal, which is largely based on his knack for taking the politics out of politics.
Whatever Key's private views, he tries to present himself as an Everyman, the good Kiwi bloke, the sort who turns the sausages at other people's barbecues without being asked.
Carrying off that persona means steering clear of anything that might offend New Zealanders' egalitarian instincts.
Perhaps Key has succeeded in turning the election into a political version of Next Top Model, and two thirds of the electorate are terrified that if they take their eye off the ball, the beauty contest could be won by Phil Goff.
It's not as if the election will be a choice between extremes of left and right, or the Serious Party on one hand and the Unfit to Govern Party on the other. It's essentially a choice between two middle-of-the-road parties whose stewardship of the economy will be influenced, if not dictated, by events and forces beyond their control.
Anyone who doubts that can't have caught up with the news that two credit rating agencies have undermined the perception of expert economic management which Key and Bill English have cultivated so assiduously since taking office.
This is the sort of poll result you'd expect in the USA, where politics is a blood sport and the divide between left and right is such that many Republicans profess to believe Barack Obama is a worse human being than Adolf Hitler, if not in fact the anti-Christ.
Paradoxically, despite this intense partisanship many Americans don't bother to vote. The turnout in last year's mid-term elections which transformed the House of Representatives was 38 per cent; the turnout for a presidential election hasn't exceeded 60 per cent since 1968.
But it seems New Zealanders aren't the only ones who can't see the woods for the trees.
This week we witnessed the bizarre spectacle of a terrorist organisation reprimanding a head of state for promoting a conspiracy theory.
Irked by Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's persistent suggestions that 9/11 was an inside job, perpetrated by the Bush Administration and/or Israel for nefarious geopolitical ends, al-Qaeda asked, "Why would Iran ascribe to such a ridiculous belief that stands in the face of all logic and evidence?"
Of course that's a pointless question since, by their very nature, conspiracy theories depend on the suspension of logic and selective dismissal of evidence.
It is, however, something of a sea change for an organisation founded on atavism and a hatred of secular humanism to champion the Enlightenment principle of open-minded inquiry and analysis leading to objective truth.
The question is, why now? For a decade, al-Qaeda was coy about its role in 9/11, presumably because it was in its interests to allow conspiracy theories to flourish in the West, and on the Arab street, where it became an article of faith that all Jews who worked in the World Trade Centre called in sick that day.
Perhaps it's because al-Qaeda is now fighting for its existence. With its leader gone and the high command being picked off like baddies in a video game, recruitment, propaganda and sowing discord have taken a back seat to relevance, if not mere survival.
When individuals and organisations are forced to confront their mortality, their thoughts turn to their legacy. What have they achieved? What will they be remembered for?
Al-Qaeda must be worried. After all, if the conspiracy theories outlive the organisation, it would be the Milli Vanilli of terror - a one-hit wonder whose claim to fame was someone else's work.
