In defence ...
Sam Cane had the worst job in New Zealand rugby.
Nobody is irreplaceable, they say. But let’s go ahead and call the god McCaw the exception to that rule.
He was a force of nature, the greatest rugby player we have seen, and he didn’t so much own the All Blacks No 7 jersey as redefine it.
Cane could not possibly live up to the standards set by a genuine freak who just about single-handedly — single-footedly, on one memorable occasion — dragged the All Blacks to victory on numerous occasions when they appeared to be in trouble.
And that’s OK. He didn’t have to be Richie; he could just be Sam.
But from the start, he struggled to escape the shadow of the mountainous McCaw.
It seemed the wider rugby public never fully embraced Cane, for whatever reason. And when he became the regular captain after Kieran Read retired, there was never a broad feeling of satisfaction.
They said he wasn’t even the best No 7 in the country. They said others would be better suited to the demands of the captaincy.
And when the All Blacks plunged into a dreadful run of four defeats in five tests, including a historic home series loss to Ireland, many said: time to go, Sam.
... of the skip
Cane — yesterday we reported speculation from a good source that Cane was to be dropped, but he has kept his place — has become a flashpoint for those aghast at how the national team has regressed.
I found this out recently when I dared (gasp) to give Cane a moderately decent number in the oh-so-serious player ratings I compiled after the Irish test in Dunedin.
People suggested I had been drinking, wondered about my brain capacity, and mocked my knowledge of the national sport.
Player ratings! Good lord.
Cane had played well, tackled his tail off and made a decent effort at holding the ship together while the game fell to bits under a blizzard of disciplinary issues, but because the All Blacks lost, and he hadn’t made a dozen big runs with ball in hand, he had been a disgrace apparently.
Let me make this clear to those cretins: no, I don’t think Cane is one of the great captains.
But the man has played 80 tests. And he hasn’t played 80 tests because he’s married to the coach’s daughter.
He’s a bloody good player, and he’s bled for the black jersey, and he deserves some respect.
He isn’t Richie. Nobody is.
Clubbing it
The Last Word must be getting old. Or soft.
But yes, well spotted. That was your man referring to the Highlanders as a "club" in a story the other day.
Apologies to all.
I have resisted all these years as the Highlanders and other Super Rugby teams have seemingly made it a mission to insert the word "club" 50 times into every press release.
It seemed a cynical move, designed to capitalise on some of the romanticism and community attachment surrounding real rugby clubs, the ones called Kurow and Woodlands and Alhambra-Union.
But, while it was a battle worth fighting, my defences are weakening.
Teams like the Highlanders used to be called "franchises" as they were owned by the New Zealand union, but that is no longer the case, and it’s such an ugly word when it comes to sport.
Someone pointed out I don’t flinch when it comes to calling Liverpool a club, or referring to the Warriors as a club, so why should the Highlanders be any different?
Language evolves, and times change. I would never have called them the "Landers" once upon a time, and now everybody uses it.
The Jones boy
What dreadfully sad news about former Wales and Lions flanker Ryan Jones becoming the latest rugby star to reveal a diagnosis of early-onset dementia.
It follows the case of beloved former Highlanders prop Carl Hayman, fighting his own battle with the disease and joining the lawsuit many players are bringing against the sport’s governing bodies.
Jones became part of my rugby story in 2005.
I spent five weeks on tour covering the Lions. Jones, shaggy hair everywhere, turned up as a replacement player and became something of a sensation, saving his best performance for a dazzling night against Otago at Carisbrook.
He walked into the press conference afterwards chomping a slice of pizza, and charmed us all with his humility.
Go well, Mr Jones.
The youth brigade
It has been years since anyone with half a brain wrote off the grand game of golf as a sport just for the older generation.
Now there is definitive proof at the elite level.
For the first time in men’s golf, all four majors have been won by players under the age of 30.
Cameron Smith (28) followed Scottie Scheffler (25), Justin Thomas (29) and Matthew Fitzpatrick (27) when he won the British Open.
A tough decision?
We’ve all done it.
Turned our nose up at a salary offer, or grumbled at the latest lowball offer from an employee.
Much sympathy, then, for Major League Baseball Superstar Juan Soto, who quite understandably turned down a remarkably disrespectful offer from his Washington Nationals team.
Imagine being offered a $US440 million ($NZ706 million) contract over 15 years to hit a ball with a stick.
Be better, Washington Nationals. Be better.
