Paul Lewis: Cash doesn't talk - it yells

Keven Mealamu, right, with All Blacks coach Graham Henry. Photo / Brett Phibbs

It was great to see Keven Mealamu pledge himself to the All Blacks and New Zealand rugby rather than opting for the big money. It wasn't so great watching the NZRU PR machine swing into overdrive to trumpet this. Understandable, maybe, but the trumpeting hit a few bum notes. All Black coach Graham Henry talked about how those on the fringe of All Black selection chase their dream for years - but then give it all up in search of a whopper cheque.

This was pretty rich. Sportstop had to have a wee turn round the garden to soothe himself; which didn't work when he stood in some canine evidence that the dog hadn't been taken for a walk for some time.

Wasn't it that bloke Henry who buggered off to Wales when it seemed his path to the All Black coaching job was blocked? Didn't he accept a job with a massive income that probably set him up for life?

You know what? Good on him. But he can scarcely criticise those players doing the same thing. At least Henry came home and had another crack; successfully. Few manage that.

But if the NZRU and Henry think they are going to stem the flow of players overseas by playing loyalty and emotional cards, think again. The money is simply too tempting and will, for many of these young men and their families, set them up for life too. Ally the big biccies with the joy of being in a different land, with different people and different customs - and it's a no-brainer.

It's also a sign of the times. Professional rugby, since day one, has catered to the top tier. Make the All Blacks and life was sweeter. Don't make the All Blacks and all that is left is the possibility of a provincial and maybe Super Rugby career - at a salary level which simply doesn't breathe the same air as those in Europe.

These are also the days of disposable rugby players. Because professional rugby and the Great God TV demand more and more games, there is no room for things like All Black trials and high-tension, big-stakes matches like the Ranfurly Shield used to be. There is nothing outside test rugby to assess whether players have what it takes to be an All Black.

Henry and co have no option but to select players, try them out, and then toss them aside if they don't measure up. So, if you were a player handed an All Black jersey, followed by a long, irksome absence from the black ranks, what would you do? Uh huh. You'd take the money and run. So would I. So did Henry.

This disposable ethic is also felt in the lower ranks; the fringe players. If there is no obvious sign of higher honours, many players look overseas for excitement and a payoff. They always have done.

In the beginnings of pay-for-play in the 1970s, a club player from Auckland was one of the first to go to France in the days of "shamateurism", before Andy Haden really forged a trail that others would follow. This player went to a club in the south; lived in an attractive chalet with a fine view; a Simca-Maserati in the garage; his own office at his "job".

He even turned up for work for a few days, enduring the puzzled stares and the language barrier, before he realised that his comfortably-appointed office did not actually require his presence. At least these days, all the contacts and signings are reasonably up-front; without too much subterfuge.

Mealamu is a singular man. He really is the nice guy you see on TV; softly-spoken, modest and with a firm grip on the values we like to think underpin our society. But he is the exception rather than the rule and, while we might like to comfort ourselves with all sorts of warm fuzzy thoughts like he loves New Zealand too much to leave it, the reality is different for most others.

It's like someone being made redundant, but then discovering that he can be more highly paid at a similar job in Sydney, or Dubai, or Hong Kong, London or New York.

Professional rugby has created a landscape where talented youngsters are launched from an early age into age group and academy rugby. They are tuned and calibrated; like so many expensive violins. The goal is to get to the top but, if the way is blocked, they find themselves strung for a concerto they cannot play in. All that is left is to find an outlet for their talents that pays an appreciative amount.

Henry's real beef - and he's right to be worried about it - is with the fringe players who leave for overseas; some without even trying at length to be All Blacks. There are horror stories of kids (usually with hungry parents) teeing up overseas contracts straight from school or shortly afterwards.

Putting up people even as agreeable as Mealamu isn't going to change things.

There are others who have stayed. Like Isaac Ross. He's still here and no one I know is suggesting he'll be in the Rugby World Cup squad. He was ditched amidst suggestions that, in spite of his abundant ball-playing talent, he didn't have the stomach for the aggressive parts of being a test lock - pushing in the scrums; clearing out at the rucks and generally being a bit of a hard-nosed, physical son-of-a-bitch.

Ross isn't hailed for staying - when he has every right to sod off somewhere else and count his money. I, for one, hope he does stay and that he does build his game and gets his jersey back. There are others like him, unhailed.

New Zealand rugby will never stem the tide unless they even up the money and/or find ways, as South Africa has done, of attracting players back.

Easier said than done, of course. The NZRU strategy is clearly to retain leaders like Richie McCaw, Dan Carter (see Gregor Paul story, p77) and Mealamu - and appeal to emotions. But that and all the nice guy press conferences in the world won't cut the mustard.

Money doesn't talk, it yells. If you hear someone say: "It's not the money, it's the principle of the thing"... nah, 99.9 per cent of the time, it's the money.

What Henry and the NZRU have to do is to find a way to get past the old saying.

The one that says: "Money is not the most important thing in the world. Love is. Fortunately, I love money."