In Thursday’s Rugby News by Happyman this week there was good content about the perceived value of the Lions tour. It also stimulated some funny chat in the comments to which I gave my two bobs’ worth as well. But over time, I found I kept going back and re-editing and adding to what I quipped. So on reflection I just made it an article.
So here ’tis: my bit-more-than-two-cents on if having the Lions over for an afternoon BBQ is worth their effort, will the Lions bother coming back?
Firstly, some seriousness. A little bit of sleuthing and beer coaster sums reveal that the 2017 NZ tour netted the Lions approx $20m Aussie dollars adjusted to 2025. Similarly, the COVID-impacted 2021 South African tour pulled about the same when also adjusted to 2025 Aussie dollaroos. So in adjusted numbers, the combined value of the two tours to the BILs was about $40 million Aussie in 2025 value.
Comparatively, while a lot of details are commercial-in-confidence what is in the public domain about Lions-do-Oz 2025 is that the RA/Lions split is 60:40 and that RA was estimating to clear around $80-100 million once all was said and done. And now, given confirmation of some fantastic attendance numbers of not far short of a half million heads attending all matches, that $100 million free and clear is looking maybe a little light. But, let’s be conservative and acknowledge that in a 60:40 split and the 60 side is pulling $100 million, that means the 40 side, the BILs, is pulling $66.7 million Aussie dollaroos, or about $32.5 million sterling for the diehards.
Even at the most conservative estimates, adjusted for time and inflation, the Aussie tour is worth roughly +50% more to the Lions organisation than the SA & NZ tours put together.
That’s why they’ll be back.
That’s great. I’m pleased they’ll be back. But knowing that the Lions leave our shores with bags so weighed down with Jack Flash that their local union rep wants to see a safe work statement, here’s now where I get a bit shirty bear at the Lions.
See, if I went to someone’s place for a BBQ where I got fed top grade steak, drank a skin load of not just beer from someone else’s esky but also quaffed their whisky, wine and home-brew, where I even got to pick who was bowling at me in backyard cricket (and making sure that bugger named Samu wasn’t allowed), well I would be pretty chuffed.
But to go even further, if I then got to walk away from that BBQ with no clean up stains on my shorts and all the while pushing a wheelbarrow of cash out the side gate as I left, I’d be doubling down, Rippa-Rita chuffed. I’d be happy, Jan. As a matter of fact, I’d be so stoked that I’d have my kids around the hosts place, emu bobbing the backyard for bottle tops and T-bone sharpies the next morning while I helped take streamers down off the balcony and my missus was probably helping pack up the splades and crockery.
What I dead set 100% would NOT be tolerating would be members of my extended household, particularly any hanger on, gold digger ex-girlfriends (aka James Haskell) or slob unemployed has been workers-comp-bludger ex-boyfriends (aka Clive Woodward), standing on the corner outside the hosts house slagging out the decor or complaining about the salad or dip.
Further, I’d be dropping a note and a family-sized box of Cadbury Celebrations to the BBQ hosts the week after, as well as before the next BBQ, with a hand-written note saying “Hey neighbours, that was a great show, we were really chuffed to come and we’ve put the next one in the calendar already. Now, please tell us how we can help make the next one better? Can we at least bring a salad?” That’s just neighbourly good manners.
But also, Christ Himself knows that in a country where we (rugby) are about 12th in participation (behind swimming, athletics, cycling, soccer, golf, tennis, basketball, surfing, netball, cricket and of course AFL) and in commercial value we are about 9th (behind cricket, AFL, mungo, soccer, basketball, tennis, swimming and netball), in what is recognised as the world’s toughest single sports market (given the audience size and value versus the products on offer), it’s not as though we couldn’t bloody well use that help!
That’s what a fair-dinkum mate would do – HELP not SLAG. Or even if you aren’t my mate, and so won’t be tempted to help out from the goodness of your heart (I mean, c’mon, they are mostly English after all), or because it’s “the rugby thing to do”, well maybe then you would do it for no other reason than because you stand to make another shed-ton of cash out of it! But either way, at least be useful, pitch in to grow the game, and don’t be a bloody whining hindrance.
I mean for Christ’s sake, it’s not as though rugby in this country weren’t so damn near broke already that we were struggling to hold the bloody BBQ at all, had mungo dropping State of Origin matches on-top of the touring schedule, had all sorts of politicking garbage trying to organise the AUNZ show, or weren’t having great players being attracted elsewhere already (anyone seen what Marky Mark is doing for the Chooks lately?). Basically, it’s not as though we could have used a bit of help.
So for me, while I love the supporters and the banter and the good natured bonhomie of the Lions tour, I have to say I’ve had enough. Given the slagging their self-imposed, half-witted, ill-informed, ignorant, toerag oxygen thieves for ‘experts’ and ‘journalists’ and even a few of their larger squad members gave out, I’m sort of happy we’ve got their cash and they’re gone for another dozen years. Seriously, if that’s what they honestly think is the sort of performance that adds to the game, then frankly they can go swap notes on how to be a good visitor at someone’s house with Wayne Carey.
But what really disappoints me is the lost opportunity: how a bit of cooperation and joint marketing/messaging could take something already good and make it so much better again, so we could all benefit from it even more. I mean, it’s a truly unique thing. There is nothing else in world sport quite like the Lions or a Lions tour. And the show comes to town only once every twelve bloody years!
So for me, next time, I hope folk realise the good that can come out of it and do all they can to harness that, rather than carry on like Fleet Street Tabloid Wannabes. But for now? I’m a bit over it to be honest. Thanks for coming and all but sod off now. We’ll clean up ourselves. And take your boof-headed kids with their on and off-field cheap shots with you.
