KEY POINTS:
My, how things change. When Lois Muir played in the first world netball championships in 1963, the New Zealand team sailed to England for five weeks - training on the ship's decks and losing balls overboard.
Playing in a gymslip with buttoned shirt and black stockings, Muir was dubbed the defender of the tournament, but New Zealand lost to Australia by one goal in their final game.
Twenty years ago this month, Muir exacted revenge. In the 1987 world tournament in Glasgow, she coached New Zealand to an overwhelming victory. No one came within 10 goals of the team, captained by today's Silver Ferns assistant coach Leigh Gibbs.
The final wasn't against a troubled Australian side, but Trinidad and Tobago, whom New Zealand crushed to take the title outright for the first time in 20 years.
Muir will play another prominent role in this year's world championships - this time as the new president of Netball New Zealand with the tournament in her backyard.
She, of course, backs the Silver Ferns to the hilt. But the wise old head of the game, who took New Zealand to four world championships, acknowledges the latest team have "fix-it" work to do to over the next four months if they're to have a shot at defending it again.
Muir sees similarities in the 1987 team to today's Ferns - they were a united side, determined in their training and packed with talent, including a new young centre with a ton of heart, called Sandra Edge.
"I could stand on the sideline for an hour, and they would do an entire physical training session without me having to say a word," she says. "They were a team who knew where they wanted to go. That's a feeling you don't often get."
But the major difference between then and now, she believes, was the full-court press of the 1987 group, from Tracey Fear and Wai Taumaunu at the back through to the magical "Margs" - shooters Margaret Forsyth and Margharet Matenga.
"They were a defensive team, hungry for every ball. Even the shooters - who didn't just wave their arms about like they wanted to fly," she says.
"If this team today got their whole team defence together, they would be hard to beat. But at the moment, it's fragmented."
The key to stopping the Australian juggernaut attack, Muir believes, is "cutting off the circulation" of one of the von Bertouch sisters (Natalie and Laura), Australia's midcourt architects.
"They were walking the ball straight up to the circle edge, and it's too difficult to stop once it's in the shooters' hands. We've got to cut off the ball before it gets that far. We did it in the second test in Melbourne," she says.
"We've got to be forcing the opposition all the time into something they don't want to do."
The current Ferns are also guilty of playing chase; of following the opposition's play rather than stamping their own dominance on the game.
"We're playing an awful lot behind people - even against Jamaica, who had us running too much. I've always said if you can read the label on the back of the other player's shirt, you're in the wrong place," she says.
On attack, the Ferns must be less predictable to shake off the cloying defence of teams like Australia.
"Playing the Australians is like wearing a human as a backpack for an hour. You've got to learn to shake them," Muir says.
"We need more deception, more foot fakes on attack. We've become too predictable."
MUIR faced a similar problem in '87, when the advent of the video camera meant opposition could study the instinctive understanding between Forsyth and Matenga, and decipher their game.
"Once the video syndrome hit us, I made a pact with myself that I wouldn't play the Margs together in the goal circle again," she says.
"They did everything automatically, and other teams were able to read it. It was really sad, but we couldn't be predictable. So Tracy Eyrl became part of the shooting equation."
In the Ferns' new centre, Laura Langman, Muir sees a lot of the legendary Sandra Edge. One of Edge's strengths was resting in pockets on court, waiting for intercepts.
"On defence, Laura is running with them - she needs to rest in those pockets, take a risk. I think she's playing very well - she has a ton of heart and initiative, and she's willing to let the ball go," Muir says.
"Confidence has always been an asset of this team, but they must pass and go.
"At the moment, they're passing and almost praying."
The glitches Muir sees in today's national team are "fixable", and can be repaired within the next few months, as the Ferns enter an intense final build-up phase.
"The materials are all there - they are a good side, with a lot of depth. As a team, they just haven't reached their full potential yet, and that doesn't take years to do," she says.
"They need some headspace now. But the work they do after that is really important."
Muir doesn't buy into the argument that Aitken hasn't allowed the players to settle in positions. "The court is like a chess board, you move the pieces about accordingly. Players still have the same skills wherever they are on court."
Nor does she accept the Australians have an experience advantage: "Experience? Who cares. You learn shrewdness if you really want to be there."
Muir is excited at the prospect of hosting the world championships in Auckland, but knows the Silver Ferns won't have a home advantage.
"When you play at home, your critics are on your shoelaces. But that shouldn't matter - the people on court have to own it," she says.
"I think this could be a great team. We won a world championship in Jamaica and won it well - I don't see too much has changed since then. The teams around us - like England - have got more competitive, but that's fantastic to see."
But after all these years, Muir reckons some things never change. "The team spirit is there, the intensity is great, the pressure is great.
"No matter what happens, it will always be a great tournament."
