They're destroying our tradition

By CHRIS RATTUE

It's so touching to see Australian rugby supremo John O'Neill scouring the planet in an effort to create yet more new rugby traditions.

You can but admire Australia for achieving so much in rugby union with so little.

It is hard to think of another sport that can produce a world champion team without ever bothering to run even a half-decent domestic competition, and the Australians obviously have no intention of stooping to such boring practices now.

Why break the habit of a lifetime and actually do some hard work in your own backyard, when there is an entire universe out there full of money ready to be thrown at your latest grandiose scheme?

Tradition has become a dirty word in rugby, and the game is the worse for it.

It would be nice to sit here and make a plea for the return of something meaningful from the past, like the great rugby tours, or even - and surely this wouldn't take too much organisation - the New Zealand North v South clashes.

They were things that gave vital and added meaning to provincial rugby. Even when there are tours of sorts these days, the provinces are bypassed.

Such pleas will only fall on deaf ears. The modern administrators just aren't interested or don't know how to make them work in the new money-dominated sports world. They're obviously not big enough earners.

Instead, they rummage all over the planet for the next grand scheme, which equals more television wallpaper, high-priced tickets in big stadiums, and global advertising. O'Neill has come up trumps again with another tri-series - this time involving Australia, England and South Africa.

If he could design yet another tri-series - maybe the Ockers to win a trophy against Japan and Korea - he would have a tri-series of tri-series to play with.

What has emerged in world sport over recent years is a definite trend: whatever the forces of finance, it is still possible to keep the past alive in sports that have limited borders or the inner strength to keep the invaders at bay.

But when sports seek or accept invasion, the past can quickly be forgotten.

New Zealand rugby has been invaded by professionalism and appears powerless to steer its own course against the influences of Australia, in particular, and the apparent demands of television moguls.

We've even had to falsely redefine our provincial borders for the Super 12 whims.

By contrast, the might of American sport is superb at keeping its traditions alive, never forgets a famous incident or personality from the past, and despite some obvious hiccups, thrives on foundations that are hardly ever moved.

Likewise, English football has kept its premier competition reasonably intact.

Northland rugby coach Bryce Woodward recalled this year that most of his New Zealand Colts side had never heard of Don Clarke, but you would doubt that Babe Ruth, from a much earlier era, would be forgotten in such a way.

Last weekend, there was the sight of Collingwood Australian Rules coach Mick Malthouse sobbing after his team had been beaten by Brisbane in the grand final.

His players sat around on the ground in a stunned state, evocative of England's FA Cup final in a time before Manchester United treated it with such disdain and their pig-headed captain, Roy Keane, claimed that players of his ilk had little respect for it any more.

Australian Rules, unchallenged by outside forces, has held true to its traditions and, most significantly, is the football code that has swept across the state borders while the three other major codes have struggled on the domestic front.

During this time, O'Neill has been plotting his path around the universe, and trying to drag any other suckers along with him.

What is the use of millions of dollars in the bank if it is earned by breaking the back of the sport?

New Zealand rugby chucked out what could have been the pinnacle of its domestic game, the North v South clash. It could have been a decent series that honoured the past and looked to the future. Meanwhile, the NPC staggers along as an afterthought.

We've been reduced to sitting on the sideline, watching O'Neill and his northern cronies sticking little flags all over their world maps. The scary part is - where will it end?