Brendon McCullum's presence at Lord's as the head coach of the England team hasn't seemed to have raised the heckles of Black Caps fans one bit. Photo / Photosport
OPINION:
As Brendon McCullum coaches the England cricket team against the Black Caps at Lord's, the reaction has been "good on you Baz."
Could it be that as a nation we've matured to the point where we can see that in the world of professional sport, calling a fellow NewZealander a traitor for finding a new paymaster is pathetically narrow-minded?
The contrast with the outrage when, in particular, Russell Coutts and Brad Butterworth signed up with a Swiss billionaire to lead an America's Cup challenge against Team New Zealand could hardly be more stark.
McCullum's elevation to the job with England has moved one commentator here to claim that "many Kiwis find the question of [McCullum's] loyalty confronting", and that past actions suggest "McCullum's loyalty is primarily to himself. The fact that he is now prepared to coach against his own country rather emphasises that fact."
The truth is that the vast majority of Kiwis don't care. My only caveat about the public's reasonable attitude towards McCullum now is that perhaps it isn't maturity at all. They just like the man.
In October 2014, four months before the ODI World Cup in Australia and New Zealand, the Black Caps had a meeting, led by McCullum and coach Mike Hesson, that changed the course of our cricket.
They gathered in their hotel and as then senior paceman Kyle Mills recalled, worked out "what a New Zealander who was a cricket fan would like to see us do. We decided we wouldn't follow the English model, nor the Australian one. We'd try to find a New Zealand way".
Guided by McCullum and Hesson they decided they'd aim to play a natural game, and be entertaining. In the field they'd throw everything at the ball. "If that meant sometimes you'd crash into an advertising hoarding trying to save a four, so be it," said Mills.
And they'd drop the confrontational, faux bully boy stuff, letting how they played do the talking for them.
By the end of the 2015 World Cup, New Zealanders loved the team, and they loved McCullum too.
So perhaps affection for him, rather than a more adult approach to sport, is the main reason McCullum coaching against New Zealand at the high temple of cricket in London only worries the sort of grouches who used to ring Newstalk ZB and complain about his tattoos.
Coutts on the other hand was demonised when, after successfully defending the America's Cup for Team New Zealand in 2000, it was announced he and Butterworth had signed up with a Swiss billionaire to challenge New Zealand.
How bitter did that get? An anti-Coutts campaign called Black Heart gained such support that at the opening ceremony for the 2003 Cup in Auckland Coutts, who would eventually helm Alinghi to victory, was surrounded by professional bodyguards.
We're seeing some of the same bitterness towards Grant Dalton in the decision to take the America's Cup to Barcelona in 2024. "The haters will always hate," he told a British journalist after the announcement.
Dalton is not a man with easy charm, which is possibly a major reason why there's such resentment over the move to Spain in '24, and the fact he has become a wealthy man, selling his Remuera house for $16.55 million in 2018.
The reality is that those involved in running successful America's Cup campaigns have often made money.
It's not as simple as a beauty contest when it comes to feelings about sportspeople, but it certainly doesn't do any harm if, when potential controversy looms, you're seen as one of the good guys.
An earlier version of this column erroneously said Sir Peter Blake and his Team New Zealand directors had collected $11m from the America's Cup defence budget in 2000. The Weekend Herald and Phil Gifford retract this statement. We apologise to Sir Peter and the Team New Zealand directors for the error.