In the dinner that followed, the Lions sprayed NZRFU chairman Tom Pearce with soda water, then used the shells of the oysters as missiles, striking Pearce on the head and reportedly leaving one other guest requiring stitches. When Pearce called for order, several members of the Lions then used their spoons as catapults to fire jelly and trifle around the room.
You might see this as a trifling matter, but when you think how much the sensibilities of the British press corps were offended by Keith Murdoch's behaviour at the Angel Hotel 14 years later it is amazing there wasn't more of a fuss made in '59.
Or perhaps there's always been double standards on that front.
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Cameron McMillan rightly highlighted the sheer absurdity of the Oracle rule, which sees them race in the qualifiers of the America's Cup before taking their place as of right in the America's Cup Match.
What he didn't highlight, however, is the most egregious element of Oracle stacking the deck: the fact they can potentially influence the make-up of the defender playoffs by losing to certain boats.
That is not to say they have, or have yet been tempted to, but the fact remains that they can.
If Rusty Coutts truly wants to be seen as the man who brought a level sailing sea to the America's Cup then he next time (assuming the super-fast Oracle wins this regatta) has to make a call as to whether Oracle are all-in or all-out until the Cup Match.
The halfway house situation he has dreamed up now is plainly ridiculous.
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Grant Dalton is stubborn, he is prickly, but he's not stupid.
He knows there is no way the America's Cup can go back to monohulls after the drama beamed around the world from Bermuda's Great Sound.
New Zealand's two races against Artemis have provided world-class entertainment and have brought the athleticism and adrenaline to racing that the old boats never could. Can you imagine, for instance, Dennis Conner trampolining his way from the steering pit on one hull to the other?
Dalton's sensibilities undoubtedly lie with a more "classic" form of racing but his sensibilities also lie with the ultimate form of influence: money.
Decorating billowing spinnakers after having your name plastered across the hulls and wing sails of these amazing machines is not going to happen. The sponsors know they're on to a good thing.
One discordant note about what is otherwise fantastic television coverage: please, please, please, no more crowd shots. The mindless cliché of panning to the grandstand on every leg of every race has to stop. It is infuriating and tacky.
Fair enough if Schapelle Corby or Donald Trumpov is in the crowd, but the America's Cup TV director's obsession with the watching public is tedious.
THE WEEK IN MEDIA ...
One of my sporting heroes died this week. You might not have heard of him.
Frank Deford was a legendary American sportswriter who lit up every page he wrote. He had an unerring eye for the human condition. His specialty was the long profile and he rarely wrote one where you didn't feel you knew his subject infinitely better than before you started.
He proved that you could write thousands of words and retain the reader's attention. He demonstrated that you could use big words and complex sentence structures and remain intelligible.
He proved also that you could learn all the journalistic conventions, but it was better fun to break them.
Take this intro for his stunning portrait on legendary Celtics' basketballer Bill Russell:
"It was 30 years ago, and the car containing the old retired basketball player and the young sportswriter stopped at a traffic light on the way to the airport in Los Angeles. (Of course, in the nature of things, old players aren't that much older than young writers.) The old player said, 'I'm sorry, I'd like to be your friend.' "
Count the ways he's broken the rules. He's placed himself in the story; he's placed himself and the subject in a mundane setting; he's disrupted the narrative with a parenthetical sentence; and he's ended on an ambiguous quote.
And yet, how could you not want to read on?
Here's the full story. Enjoy.
