Olympique Daily: All that glitters is gold
Razor's honeymoon is over... but the real stories happened later ($)
There will be nobody happier for Lisa Carrington, Lydia Ko and Hamish Kerr right now than NZ Rugby CEO Mark Robinson.
That All Black flub in front of thousands of empty yellow seats? That’ll slide right under the radar, thank you very much.
Last night was both a bonanza for New Zealand sport and a stark reminder of rugby’s fragility within that cosmos.
As I’ve been fond of saying today to those who have asked what the hell went on in Wellington last night: “Who cares? We’re a nation of kayakers and high jumpers now!”
The late, late nights and a 72-hour search for new superlatives has strained both my hippocampus and amygdala. The finish is in sight and I’m worried I will topple over in a fog of incoherence just metres from the line.
With that in mind, detailed analysis of the rugby can wait until tomorrow, but here’s six quick points before it’s left to percolate:
Blow out the candles, chuck the satin sheets in the wash and pull the winceyette pyjamas from the bottom drawer — Razor Robertson’s honeymoon is over.
NZR did not read the room in Wellington when it came to pricing. The ends of Sky Stadium were full, which is where the cheaper seats were, the sides were embarrassingly yellow. This is a city where it reads like half the working-age population has either been laid off or is being threatened with redundancy in the midst of a cost of living crisis. This was as good a time as you’ll ever find to grab some chips and dip, a two-litre bottle of L&P and stay home and watch the Olympics with your family.
The All Blacks gave the impression they entered the field straight off an intense two-week, heavy weights and big k’s training block. There was nothing there. No fizz or sparkle, energy or inspiration. Just a plodding, almost going-through-the-motions performance.