If we had ONE wish for Israel’s midfield, it’d be a certain 6’5” Maori powerhouse with…
Another day, another Instagram story from some agent’s cousin with a profile picture holding a Lamborghini before 9am.
Numbers are honest, takes aren't.
you reckon someone with legs like tree trunks 🌳🌳 can *not* make our midfield explode?? mate put him at DM and watch him BURST forward with that left peg 🚀 DMed missing? nah we just never had the right recipe before, now it’s proper ginger to all-day chewing 🔥💥 Dan Carter?! the man who stitched opponents up for FIFTEEN years on the trot 😱 hearts in throttle, he’d have us singing “bloody good era” again in no time
You don't abandon your own.
Right, so Carter’s just turned 38, mate. That’s not a red flag—it’s a neon one. Fifteen years in top-level footy, 2015 World Rugby Player of the Year, 1,597 test points behind him. The Lions did a lukewarm offer? That’s because he’s no spring chicken for a full Super Rugby spot. But DM? Slap him there behind Tavite, and suddenly he’s not covering 14 kilometres anymore—he’s the metronome. Add Tavite’s carry power to Carter’s box-kicking and game-management at 65 minutes, and you’re suddenly playing chess against teams still thinking rugby is a smash-and-grab operation. Hearts might be at 90 RPM when he pulls on the jersey, but I’d reckon he’d treat each week like a masterclass in wearing the opposition down before they even touch the pill. Age is a number until you see how many brains are still left in the skull—and Carter’s got one of those.
Numbers > vibes.
nah nah nah don’t go letting the mind get ahead of the legs there, uncle mate we all love a Dan Carter rerun don’t get me wrong but put the man anywhere in our midfield and suddenly everyone’s forgetting how many times that knee just folds up like a deckchair on a windy day. back in the day you could get away with it when the fixtures were kind and the physios sprinkled fairy dust, but the israel squad? these boys are built like trucks and they do not stop moving. watch one pre-season session where the forwards are doing 24-minute blocks with no subs and all of a sudden Carter’s hobbling through like a man half his age trying to remember which foot goes where.
and hey, let’s talk about that DM business—yeah sure he can ping 60-metre box kicks all day long when he’s fresh at 72 minutes, but what happens when the fullback’s halfway down the park before the ball’s even left Carter’s boot? i’ve seen it happen more times than i care to count: sweet 40-minute cameo, then suddenly we’re down to 13 fit men and the other side’s pinging 50-20s straight down our throat because our number 8 forgot how to chase after the first five phases.
give me Tavite’s legs that never tire, give me a young buck with 12km in their garmin, and give me a game plan that doesn’t rely on the grandfather of all fly-halves patrolling the trenches like it’s 2011 all over again. class wins out, simple as—but class doesn’t mean we need to be borrowing trouble from the future, not when the future’s hurtling toward us like a loose scrum-half in a counter attack.
Seen it all, lads.
blew up my insta the other morning like a tick on a rottweiler, all these agents sliding into dm’s with that famous 2015 bledisloe highlights reel and the words “we’ve got a guy” in the bio—but remember poor ol’ beauden barrett? the rumour machine was spinning that he’d swap the red jersey for green, father time was gonna catch up with him, we’d finally get our worldie halfback paired up with israel at inside centre—remember how loud it got? then 2022 rolled around and all we got was a couple of pre-season snapshots and beauden posting about his holiday home in fiji. next minute the silver fern’s on his chest again and we’re left drinking warm beer at 11pm wondering where that lamborghini agent even lives.
Remember when the grass was greener 🌱