Big business
Paddy Lewis
I knew that whole asset sales thingy at the election would end up coming back to bite us in the bum. Not because what the Government is planning doesn’t have some merit (albeit with a few fish hooks), but because the New Zealand Rugby fish heads would think “hey, there’s an idea….”
So when I read on Saturday that they were putting up some of the New Zealand franchises for part sale, I bounded to the telephone and started making calls.
Rupert Murdoch still won’t answer his phone (I have apologized so many times for that unseemly email to the House of Commons phone hacking committee, but he’s still clearly grumpy), and I can’t bring myself to hit up the Morgan family – the last thing the Hurricanes need is an environmental sustainability committee – but I managed to round up a few heavy hitters and so I rang the NZRFU’s bloke in charge of asset sales.
“It’s 4 ****ing a.m.,” he moaned.
“International business never sleeps,” I said. “Get used to it. Now, I am acting on behalf of a consortium of local investors with deep pockets, and we have some questions.”
That seemed to get his attention. “Hang on, I’ll just put a tie on. What goes well with blue pyjamas?”
“Never mind that – although a yellow paisley with a half Windsor wouldn’t go amiss. Now, our first question is, what percentage of the TV rights do we get?”
He made a noise that sounded like a possum farting.
“TV rights? Well, you wouldn’t get any.”
“BEEEEEP!” I yelled. “Wrong answer. If we’re going to buy a franchise, surely we must get some TV rights.”
He explained, rather painfully, that we would be entitled to right to manage, operate, select and promote the team and brand and the matches played by that team.
“Beauty,” I said. “So we can get rid of say, Mark Hammett, and replace him with Nick Mallett?”
“Um, no. We’ll still be contracting players and coaches.”
“Well that’s not really giving us much choice in selection then. What can we do?”
He explained that our role was essentially to make money off ticket sales and event management. I put down my glass of Bollinger, reached out of the spa pool, and grabbed my calculator.
“So we get the gate receipts?”
“Um, maybe,” he said.
“And we could play games at 2.30pm on a Friday during school holidays to attract a crowd?”
“Uh…no, the TV schedules aren’t very fluid.”
“Well, what can we do for our investment?”
“Well,” he said, “you need to be creative.”
I hung up and went back to my investors, telling them the story. The good news is that we are still buying the Hurricanes’ part share. The bad news, for them and the NZRFU, is that using the income valuation method (we can’t use any other as the cost/asset valuation method gives a negative result), means we will be paying $5,000 and a handful of magic beans.
I feel a bit robbed though after finding out the Chiefs were bought out for three milking cows and a set of snow tyres. I still can’t believe that the Blues ownership was sold for a life membership of a strip joint. Still, that’s big business for you. Without the big. And without the business
So when I read on Saturday that they were putting up some of the New Zealand franchises for part sale, I bounded to the telephone and started making calls.
Rupert Murdoch still won’t answer his phone (I have apologized so many times for that unseemly email to the House of Commons phone hacking committee, but he’s still clearly grumpy), and I can’t bring myself to hit up the Morgan family – the last thing the Hurricanes need is an environmental sustainability committee – but I managed to round up a few heavy hitters and so I rang the NZRFU’s bloke in charge of asset sales.
“It’s 4 ****ing a.m.,” he moaned.
“International business never sleeps,” I said. “Get used to it. Now, I am acting on behalf of a consortium of local investors with deep pockets, and we have some questions.”
That seemed to get his attention. “Hang on, I’ll just put a tie on. What goes well with blue pyjamas?”
“Never mind that – although a yellow paisley with a half Windsor wouldn’t go amiss. Now, our first question is, what percentage of the TV rights do we get?”
He made a noise that sounded like a possum farting.
“TV rights? Well, you wouldn’t get any.”
“BEEEEEP!” I yelled. “Wrong answer. If we’re going to buy a franchise, surely we must get some TV rights.”
He explained, rather painfully, that we would be entitled to right to manage, operate, select and promote the team and brand and the matches played by that team.
“Beauty,” I said. “So we can get rid of say, Mark Hammett, and replace him with Nick Mallett?”
“Um, no. We’ll still be contracting players and coaches.”
“Well that’s not really giving us much choice in selection then. What can we do?”
He explained that our role was essentially to make money off ticket sales and event management. I put down my glass of Bollinger, reached out of the spa pool, and grabbed my calculator.
“So we get the gate receipts?”
“Um, maybe,” he said.
“And we could play games at 2.30pm on a Friday during school holidays to attract a crowd?”
“Uh…no, the TV schedules aren’t very fluid.”
“Well, what can we do for our investment?”
“Well,” he said, “you need to be creative.”
I hung up and went back to my investors, telling them the story. The good news is that we are still buying the Hurricanes’ part share. The bad news, for them and the NZRFU, is that using the income valuation method (we can’t use any other as the cost/asset valuation method gives a negative result), means we will be paying $5,000 and a handful of magic beans.
I feel a bit robbed though after finding out the Chiefs were bought out for three milking cows and a set of snow tyres. I still can’t believe that the Blues ownership was sold for a life membership of a strip joint. Still, that’s big business for you. Without the big. And without the business
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