On Graham Henry

“Bring me the head of Ted” is the rallying call amongst NZ rugby circles after yet another abject performance in the Trying Nations this week.

The Ted in question is none other than Graham Henry, Mr Shelf Life himself, who has in recent years flitted from coaching job to coaching job, capitalised on honeymoon periods then been revealed as an imposter of the worst kind, a coach bereft of all but Plan A.

Plan A itself isn’t that smart – it derives from years of being a headmaster and ensuring there is no room for individuality, flair and creativity - a strategy that the casual observer might think would sit well with the dull and dour men of Aotearoa.

The All Blacks are a mess. They refuse to sing the national anthem before games, preferring instead to do the Haka – all except Ma’a Nonu, a man so shorn of brain cells that he still mistakes his instructions and stays in the changing rooms to do a hooker just before kick off.

On the field, their inability to pass, catch or kick with any reasonable degree of accuracy
outweigh the inevitable bias all referees seem to show them – 3 out of 5 games lost this year.

Just as Wales, a small country who punched above their weight in the amateur era, accepted their decline and rebuilt from scratch, so NZ must recognise it has no divine right to supremacy, and must look to ways of remodelling the now sleeping black giant.

Not a task for Mr Henry and Plan A.