WHAT is it with the haka? Nothing, it would appear, will please the New Zealand players. Once again, after Saturday’s match against Wales, it is regrettable that Tana Umaga, the All Blacks captain, should find cause for complaint. The All Blacks were asked to perform the haka immediately after their own national anthem and not, as has been the recent tradition, after both national anthems have been sung. Wales were accused of being disrespectful to the war chant. Not again, Umaga says. There should be pause for thought.

New Zealand ought to be reminded that this was the order that took place when they first played against each other, at Cardiff Arms Park in 1905. “It is not very musical but it is very impressive,” was the conclusion of the Western Mail, which was aware even then of the psychological advantage the chant might allow and went on: “The Welsh players should sing the Welsh national anthem after the New Zealanders have given their war cry.”

Perhaps New Zealand should ponder that there are occasions when other countries, on their own acre of turf especially, might like to honour their own traditions and to ask for similar respects to be paid. If the whingeing goes on, perhaps it is time to give the haka a miss.

This is not the first time that New Zealand have moaned. During the summer, Brian O’Driscoll, the Lions captain, also got it wrong, apparently. The Irishman had consulted a Maori elder as to the appropriate protocol in accepting the Maori challenge. O’Driscoll followed the elder’s instructions but was accused afterwards of “insulting” the All Blacks’ haka.

New Zealand, I fancy, protest too much. If the haka and its correctness arouses so much sensitivity and acrimony, perhaps it is time, sadly, to disregard it altogether. If New Zealand players seek respect for its performance, they must recognise that to be allowed to perform the haka is a privilege bestowed and conversely, I assume, it can be taken away.

It would be sad if it were so. The haka has been part of the tradition for a century. The first time it was performed, the Europeans found it strange and fascinating. It inspired a sense of wonder and was universally appreciated. The ritual was maintained on subsequent tours.

Yet by the 1970s it fell out of favour, not with the rugby followers in this country, who regretted its absence, but rather with the New Zealand touring party itself. The haka did not form part of the ceremony of the 1972-73 team. This disappointed the local crowds and added to the disenchantment with a touring team that was perceived to be in sullen mood. Their failure to do the haka was a symptom of this. Although they were successful on the field, they were far from popular.

If memory serves me correctly, in an attempt to salvage the All Blacks’ reputation, the haka, because of popular demand from the British and Irish public, was restored to the preliminaries for the famous Barbarians game that season. It was performed somewhat clumsily, though, lacking harmony and timing, each player looking to another to see where elbows and knees should be. Nonetheless the crowd responded generously, glad that the ritual was back.

Thereafter, it became part of the scenario once more. But in doing so, it gradually acquired a more intimidating air during Buck Shelford’s period as captain in the late Eighties. This was pursued with later teams.

We may recollect in 1991, in the World Cup third-place play-off match in Cardiff between the All Blacks and Scotland, how Va’aiga Tuigamala broke ranks with the rest of his team and advanced with a menacing look on his face towards the Scots, ending up face to face with both John Jeffrey, the flanker, and Tony Stanger, the wing. Thus the All Blacks, captained then by Gary Whetton, turned the Maori war cry, which was honoured and respected for the tradition it represented, into a threatening prologue to the match. This was gamesmanship. Last summer, against South Africa in the Tri-Nations, the All Blacks introduced another more prolonged version, which included what appeared to be the sinister sign of a cut throat. This distasteful version has not been seen since and one should hope that it never sees the light of day again.

While the haka may once have been appreciated as a celebration of national identity and representing a unique heritage, in recent years it has been transformed into psychological sabre-rattling, which the All Blacks clearly think is their right to perform for their advantage as they think fit. It was once played facing the crowd in a line; now they defiantly face the players. They should consider that this is a privilege accorded only to them and the other Pacific islanders.

There is much sentiment attached to it. It has a long history that the home unions and others are happy to acknowledge. They would regret its passing. In less stressful and demanding rugby times, the nations enjoyed embracing tradition and the sport’s idiosyncrasies. More and more, however, past practices are jettisoned. The game is intensely professional, every nuance is analysed, every precaution taken. Teams, rightly or wrongly, are less impressed with sentiment. So who is to say that at some stage the performance of the haka may be deemed to provide the All Blacks with an unfair psychological and tactical advantage? Time for it to go, they may say.

I think it would serve New Zealand well to recognise that the haka is there because of the present respect that other countries have for the tradition. In a changing, less tender-hearted rugby world, they should not take it for granted nor abuse the privilege. They might care to complain less. A period of discreet silence may be in order.