What South Africa and the All Blacks Mean to Each Other

By John Kirwan · 5min read · Aug 2, 2026

There is a moment JK described recently that tells you everything. He was a young winger in New Zealand, watching grainy footage of Brian Williams sidestep a defender in the dead ball area in South Africa. In 1970s New Zealand, conservative New Zealand, that image planted itself in him. A man running with complete freedom. He never forgot it.

That is what this rivalry does. It plants things.

For a generation of All Blacks — JK's generation — South Africa was both the forbidden country and the ultimate test. The boycott years, the Cavaliers, the silence around the name. You couldn't go. You couldn't play them. The idea of the Springboks grew larger in its absence, the way things do when you're not allowed to have them.

When the All Blacks finally toured South Africa in 1992, the first time in decades, it wasn't just a rugby tour. It was something much harder to name. JK talks about walking through the braais in Durban with his teammates, mixing with the people, and feeling something shift. "The people were amazing," he said. "Absolutely amazing." You don't say that about somewhere you've just been to play rugby.

Victor Matfield came at it from the other side. For South African players who came through the isolation years, the All Blacks were the benchmark you measured yourself against — even when you couldn't play them. The myth of the All Blacks was built in their absence. When they finally arrived, Victor says, it was almost overwhelming. "For any South African, even now, the ultimate is to play the All Blacks. It's the it's the Australians, yes, they're the world champions, but for South Africans the ultimate is to play the All Blacks."

That feeling hasn't changed. What's changed is that both men have now sat across from each other and argued about it for two years on this show. And the thing that comes through, week after week, is that the argument is actually an expression of love. Not for each other — though there's that too — but for what this game has meant to both their countries.

JK remembers losing at Eden Park in a draw that got him dropped. He remembers touring France and Wales and playing midweek games in front of hostile crowds. He remembers what it felt like to wear the black jersey and know that when South Africa eventually came back into the fold, that would be the real thing. The thing everything else was preparation for.

Victor remembers being captain in 2008, going to Eden Park — a ground where South Africa hadn't won in decades — and getting a yellow card with eight minutes to go and then watching Ricky Januarie go down the blind side and score. He can still see it. That try. That win. On their ground.

These are not just rugby memories. They are the memories that define who these men are.

When the Greatest Rivalry tour was announced — All Blacks to South Africa, a full provincial tour followed by four tests — both of them lit up in a way that no other rugby news has managed this year. Not because of the rugby, exactly. Because of what it means. The provinces playing games of their lives. The midweek games that nobody plays anymore. The kind of tour that made players and defined careers.

"What makes this special," JK said, "is not the All Blacks playing South Africa, because basically they do that every year. What makes this special is the All Blacks are coming to South Africa to tour. To do an old-fashioned tour, playing provincial teams. That's what makes this year special."

Victor couldn't agree more. He just also thinks South Africa will win 3-1.

That's the rivalry. You can love something and still want to beat it. In fact, that might be the only kind of love that really counts in sport