Paul Thomas: NZ rugby's backbone could do with some Australian steel

It was John Graham, a former All Black captain and Black Caps manager, who suggested that New Zealand rugby should model itself on Australian cricket.

There's a lot of common ground to build on: both are national sports with glorious traditions, are played and followed across the social spectrum, have strong historical claims to being the world's best and produce figures who personify their countrymen's idealised self-image.

On closer inspection, however, our national sport suffers by comparison.

Australian cricket's infrastructure is superb. All the major cities boast world-class cricket grounds of distinctive character, both architecturally and in terms of playing conditions. Over the course of a series, touring teams experience a variety of settings each with its own history, aesthetic appeal, technical and tactical challenges.

Our rugby venues, while significantly better than they used to be, hardly qualify as world-class, and stage whispers from various sources indicate that we can forget about hosting the World Cup until we build a state-of-the-art, 75,000-seat stadium.

Does that make sense, and if so who will pay for it? Not the New Zealand Rugby Union, one assumes, given the frightening indebtedness that the Welsh Rugby Union has to show for the Millennium Stadium.

Australia is also blessed with a perfect cricket climate. The game can be played virtually all year round and tests have recently been staged in the north while the football season is in full swing down south.

Cricket is often played here and in England in temperatures Sydneysiders associate with the depths of winter.

The All Blacks' home games are played in the cruel June-August window and at night to suit European television audiences. This is a win-win arrangement for the Northern Hemisphere: their fans don't have to get up in the middle of the night and their teams can travel around the world to play in conditions not unlike those at home.

And if, as successive coaches have concluded, the All Blacks have little choice but to play it fast and loose, this scheduling favours the forward-oriented European teams, thus effectively cancelling out home advantage.

Perhaps the most striking divergence is in the respective levels of self-confidence. Australia is the predominant cricketing nation on and off the field, although it faces an intensifying challenge from India, a waking giant intent on claiming a role befitting the size of its television audience.

New Zealand still has a place at rugby's top table but certainly not at the head.

Domestically, this assurance reflects the community's acceptance of cricket's place in the national scheme of things. Compare the unflagging patronage of John Howard (and before him Bob Hawke and Sir Robert Menzies) with our Government's grudging attitude towards rugby, as revealed in Helen Clark's complaint that she'd rather stay home and read a book.

It's a matter of record that the Government chose not to involve itself seriously in the World Cup sub-hosting saga despite the potential economic windfall.

While happy to punt taxpayers' money on the America's Cup, the Government's most visible contribution to rugby's crisis was Trevor Mallard's publicly expressed desire to perform an unnatural act with a beer bottle.

On the playing front, the Australian selectors have preserved the mystique of the baggy green cap simply by picking the best players and making it harder to get into the team than out of it, traditionally a hallmark of dominant sides.

Justin Langer, Matthew Hayden and Damien Martyn were all Next Big Things who had to do their time on the state circuit and prove, through sheer weight of runs, that they'd acquired the determination to succeed that Australians demand from the wearers of the baggy green.

Compare this with the almost promiscuous lack of discrimination that has characterised All Black selection in recent years. One sometimes gets the feeling it works on the principle that Italian prime ministers were chosen in the era of revolving-door governments: whose turn is it this month?

To take one glaring example, there are 11 All Black number 8s in current circulation: Steven Bates, Jerry Collins, Rodney So'oialo and Mose Tuiali'i are on tour; Sam Broomhall, Paul Miller and Xavier Rush are on the scrapheap; Ron Cribb, Isitolo Maka, Taine Randell and Scott Robertson are in hard-currency exile.

Study those names and decide whether this is a reflection of player depth or the instability, uncertainty and lack of confidence that have permeated our national game since 1998.