A furious Ryan Nelsen leads the complaints against the collapsing Italian Daniele De Rossi. Photo / Getty
The All Whites were ahead of their time, when they took Italy to the limit in Nelspruit, in the World Cup finals, eight years ago today.
Not in the way they played, because 2006 world champions Italy were all over Ryan Nelsen's men.
Yet the mighty Italians were fortunate to gain a one-all draw. Those unfancied All Whites were, incredibly, a dubious decision short of a monumental World Cup upset in 2010.
Their noble effort to climb an impossible mountain still helped promote the idea that a little team can confidently threaten a giant of world football, a mood which is taking hold more than ever in Russia right now.
Tunisia, for example, were upset rather than relieved at losing narrowly to England, tiny Iceland held Argentina, and Iran were almost furious at being denied a draw with Spain. This World Cup, barely a week old, has an incredibly even feel.
It was enjoyable to recall Nelspruit as Spain, the 2010 champions, scraped home via a lucky Diego Costa goal despite dominating Iran today. That the Iranian fans were blowing those infernal vuvuzelas, made infamous in the South Africa tournament, made the memory more real.
I was in Nelspruit for that 2010 game against Italy and what sticks most is a feeling of surreal pandemonium, of not quite being able to put what happened into perspective.
The weird atmosphere in and around the South African stadiums didn't help.
There was something honourable and brave about derided FIFA taking the World Cup to Africa, but it was a traveller's moderate nightmare and particularly in scary Johannesburg which was near to the All Whites' posh, remote base.
Any sensible World Cup visitor in Johannesburg spent considerable time looking over a shoulder. It was an interesting time, but not a joyous experience.
A trip to a cash flow machine required total concentration. Scammers with scanners were apparently everywhere, and a press colleague was quickly alerted to strange transactions just hours after someone tried to "help" him make a withdrawal.
And oh the noise, will it ever go away? With vuvuzelas - the plastic trumpets - constantly blaring, genuine ground atmosphere was drowned out by something that came to feel like an enormous bee buzzing in the head.
The bland drop-in stadiums lacked style or history but there are wonderful memories, from what happened on the field.
The initial last gasp draw with Slovakia, thanks to Winston Reid's headed goal, was to experience both a media deadline nightmare - coming at about 4am NZ time - and witness an incredible moment in our sporting history.
The famous 1982 All Whites had been dealt a fairly tough hand in Spain, being thrown into a pool which included an excellent Soviet Union side, incomparable Brazil, and probably the best Scotland team ever. No points there.
But with an historic point in the bag against Slovakia, Ryan Nelsen's men trooped off to Nelspruit, some 300km east of Johannesburg, with our media contingent in apprehensive pursuit, rental van loaded.
What we were about to witness comes back like a crazy blur.
The stunning early Shane Smeltz goal, with Reid's head again crucially involved, was followed by a 27th minute penalty to Italy when Tommy Smith tugged on Daniele De Rossi's shirt, the Italian flinging himself to the ground in the time honoured football manner.
The strongest memories include saves by mild mannered Mark Paston, initially the number two choice in coach Ricki Herbert's thinking but promoted when the more volatile Glen Moss suffered pre-tournament suspension misfortune.
The sense of pandemonium took hold as New Zealand managed to threaten Italy by clinging to a draw. Afterwards, All Whites striker Rory Fallon told the NZ Herald's Stuart Dye that the Italians had been "diving around like little girls".
Looking at video of the incident again, the All Whites were unlucky. It was a clear shirt tug, but not of any great strength. De Rossi looked like he'd been struck by a bullet.
Italy's reputation, New Zealand's lack of it, may have influenced the Guatemala official. One British newspaper blog claimed "no argument" with the awarding of the penalty, converted expertly by Vincenzo Iaquinta, but there are other pundits who questioned it to various degrees.
Football is a wonderful game, where an over-matched side like New Zealand can test the very best if they are organised well enough, and resolute.
Italy, according to the FIFA statistics, had 57 per cent possession against Nelsen's men, while the goal attempts were 23-3, and those on target 7-1. New Zealand committed 25 fouls to 11, received three yellow cards to zero, while the Italians had 15 corner kicks and New Zealand none. Paston was required to make five saves, Federico Marchetti zero.
And yet, thanks to that penalty call, the Italians were actually lucky to escape with a face-saving draw on that fine afternoon.
New Zealand, displaying a rare swagger, were gutted and teenager Chris Wood actually had a chance to score an 83rd minute winner.
Playing Italy was one heck of an assignment for a team with one world class player in Nelsen, a domineering personality backed by wily veterans including Ivan Vicelich and out-of-work Simon Elliott, the rising talent of Wood and Reid, and so many nearly men from lower levels.
Matching Italy, one of the great World Cup sides with a peerless pedigree in defending, attracted monumental attention at the time.
Yet a country of the rugby persuasion, where an All Black draw feels like a defeat, has probably let this wonderful football memory slip too easily.