Latest news with #Bledisloe
The Advertiser
29-06-2025
- Sport
- The Advertiser
Wallaby vent: 'Coaches change every freaking two years'
Quade Cooper has launched a blistering attack on Rugby Australia, claiming a "decade of coaching chaos" is behind the Wallabies' dramatic fall from grace. Rugby World Cup finalists in 2015, the Wallabies will enter the looming showpiece series against the touring British and Irish Lions as the eighth ranked team in the world. An 80-Test stalwart who played under five different coaches in a 15-year Test career, Cooper has laid bare why the series shapes as a real-life David-versus-Goliath battle in a damning column for NewsCorp. Under the headline of 'Wallabies' identity crisis: a decade of coaching chaos', Cooper pulled no punches when disturbingly detailing where he believes it has all gone wrong for Australian rugby since the glory days of holding the Bledisloe and World Cup trophies and winning the 2001 series against the Lions. "The most frustrating narrative around the Wallabies over the past decade has been that we don't produce quality playmakers," Cooper wrote. "I've been in the No.10 jersey for the Wallabies. I've copped the pressure, the praise, the criticism. I know what it's like to try and lead a team through the chaos of constant change, all while trying to make sense of what Australian rugby actually stands for. "The core problem is that the coaches change every freaking two years." Pointing out that he played under Robbie Deans, Ewen McKenzie, Michael Cheika, Dave Rennie and Eddie Jones, Cooper said the "constant churn means you're changing the program every two years, and so consistent development is impossible". "When a new coach sweeps in, the whole set-up changes, the structure of the camps, the structure of who's coaching, the structure of how you're playing," he said. "This isn't just disruptive; it's crippling. "Australia has been unable to cultivate a distinct style of play because they're trying to get the best coach that's out there right now, rather than adhering to a foundational Australian identity. "As a result, Australian play over the last 15 years has had no identity to it. "I contrast this with global rugby powerhouses. "The All Blacks: Every time a coach comes in, their system is the All Blacks system. Coaches often have prior involvement and simply keep moving it forward. "The Springboks: South Africa is still South Africa no matter who has coached their team. They've just been able to add layers to it, integrating better players into certain positions without tearing up the whole playbook. "Their forward pack has not changed, they just add younger players to the mix that are more talented than the next." Cooper believes the "perpetual cycle of change in the Wallabies leads to the dreaded word heard so much in Australian rugby: 'rebuild'." "Every new coach starts building from the ground up. It's a self-perpetuating problem," he wrote. "My message is clear, at some point there has to be consistency. The Wallabies need to define their big rocks as an organisation, and their 'DNA'. "Only then can they establish principles of what you coach on that transcend individual coaching tenures, allowing true development and a consistent, winning identity. "Without that, the frustrations for playmakers and the team as a whole will continue to fester, leaving the Wallabies in a perpetual state of 'rebuilding' instead of genuine contention." Quade Cooper has launched a blistering attack on Rugby Australia, claiming a "decade of coaching chaos" is behind the Wallabies' dramatic fall from grace. Rugby World Cup finalists in 2015, the Wallabies will enter the looming showpiece series against the touring British and Irish Lions as the eighth ranked team in the world. An 80-Test stalwart who played under five different coaches in a 15-year Test career, Cooper has laid bare why the series shapes as a real-life David-versus-Goliath battle in a damning column for NewsCorp. Under the headline of 'Wallabies' identity crisis: a decade of coaching chaos', Cooper pulled no punches when disturbingly detailing where he believes it has all gone wrong for Australian rugby since the glory days of holding the Bledisloe and World Cup trophies and winning the 2001 series against the Lions. "The most frustrating narrative around the Wallabies over the past decade has been that we don't produce quality playmakers," Cooper wrote. "I've been in the No.10 jersey for the Wallabies. I've copped the pressure, the praise, the criticism. I know what it's like to try and lead a team through the chaos of constant change, all while trying to make sense of what Australian rugby actually stands for. "The core problem is that the coaches change every freaking two years." Pointing out that he played under Robbie Deans, Ewen McKenzie, Michael Cheika, Dave Rennie and Eddie Jones, Cooper said the "constant churn means you're changing the program every two years, and so consistent development is impossible". "When a new coach sweeps in, the whole set-up changes, the structure of the camps, the structure of who's coaching, the structure of how you're playing," he said. "This isn't just disruptive; it's crippling. "Australia has been unable to cultivate a distinct style of play because they're trying to get the best coach that's out there right now, rather than adhering to a foundational Australian identity. "As a result, Australian play over the last 15 years has had no identity to it. "I contrast this with global rugby powerhouses. "The All Blacks: Every time a coach comes in, their system is the All Blacks system. Coaches often have prior involvement and simply keep moving it forward. "The Springboks: South Africa is still South Africa no matter who has coached their team. They've just been able to add layers to it, integrating better players into certain positions without tearing up the whole playbook. "Their forward pack has not changed, they just add younger players to the mix that are more talented than the next." Cooper believes the "perpetual cycle of change in the Wallabies leads to the dreaded word heard so much in Australian rugby: 'rebuild'." "Every new coach starts building from the ground up. It's a self-perpetuating problem," he wrote. "My message is clear, at some point there has to be consistency. The Wallabies need to define their big rocks as an organisation, and their 'DNA'. "Only then can they establish principles of what you coach on that transcend individual coaching tenures, allowing true development and a consistent, winning identity. "Without that, the frustrations for playmakers and the team as a whole will continue to fester, leaving the Wallabies in a perpetual state of 'rebuilding' instead of genuine contention." Quade Cooper has launched a blistering attack on Rugby Australia, claiming a "decade of coaching chaos" is behind the Wallabies' dramatic fall from grace. Rugby World Cup finalists in 2015, the Wallabies will enter the looming showpiece series against the touring British and Irish Lions as the eighth ranked team in the world. An 80-Test stalwart who played under five different coaches in a 15-year Test career, Cooper has laid bare why the series shapes as a real-life David-versus-Goliath battle in a damning column for NewsCorp. Under the headline of 'Wallabies' identity crisis: a decade of coaching chaos', Cooper pulled no punches when disturbingly detailing where he believes it has all gone wrong for Australian rugby since the glory days of holding the Bledisloe and World Cup trophies and winning the 2001 series against the Lions. "The most frustrating narrative around the Wallabies over the past decade has been that we don't produce quality playmakers," Cooper wrote. "I've been in the No.10 jersey for the Wallabies. I've copped the pressure, the praise, the criticism. I know what it's like to try and lead a team through the chaos of constant change, all while trying to make sense of what Australian rugby actually stands for. "The core problem is that the coaches change every freaking two years." Pointing out that he played under Robbie Deans, Ewen McKenzie, Michael Cheika, Dave Rennie and Eddie Jones, Cooper said the "constant churn means you're changing the program every two years, and so consistent development is impossible". "When a new coach sweeps in, the whole set-up changes, the structure of the camps, the structure of who's coaching, the structure of how you're playing," he said. "This isn't just disruptive; it's crippling. "Australia has been unable to cultivate a distinct style of play because they're trying to get the best coach that's out there right now, rather than adhering to a foundational Australian identity. "As a result, Australian play over the last 15 years has had no identity to it. "I contrast this with global rugby powerhouses. "The All Blacks: Every time a coach comes in, their system is the All Blacks system. Coaches often have prior involvement and simply keep moving it forward. "The Springboks: South Africa is still South Africa no matter who has coached their team. They've just been able to add layers to it, integrating better players into certain positions without tearing up the whole playbook. "Their forward pack has not changed, they just add younger players to the mix that are more talented than the next." Cooper believes the "perpetual cycle of change in the Wallabies leads to the dreaded word heard so much in Australian rugby: 'rebuild'." "Every new coach starts building from the ground up. It's a self-perpetuating problem," he wrote. "My message is clear, at some point there has to be consistency. The Wallabies need to define their big rocks as an organisation, and their 'DNA'. "Only then can they establish principles of what you coach on that transcend individual coaching tenures, allowing true development and a consistent, winning identity. "Without that, the frustrations for playmakers and the team as a whole will continue to fester, leaving the Wallabies in a perpetual state of 'rebuilding' instead of genuine contention."
Perth Now
29-06-2025
- Sport
- Perth Now
Wallaby vent: 'Coaches change every freaking two years'
Quade Cooper has launched a blistering attack on Rugby Australia, claiming a "decade of coaching chaos" is behind the Wallabies' dramatic fall from grace. Rugby World Cup finalists in 2015, the Wallabies will enter the looming showpiece series against the touring British and Irish Lions as the eighth ranked team in the world. An 80-Test stalwart who played under five different coaches in a 15-year Test career, Cooper has laid bare why the series shapes as a real-life David-versus-Goliath battle in a damning column for NewsCorp. Under the headline of 'Wallabies' identity crisis: a decade of coaching chaos', Cooper pulled no punches when disturbingly detailing where he believes it has all gone wrong for Australian rugby since the glory days of holding the Bledisloe and World Cup trophies and winning the 2001 series against the Lions. "The most frustrating narrative around the Wallabies over the past decade has been that we don't produce quality playmakers," Cooper wrote. "I've been in the No.10 jersey for the Wallabies. I've copped the pressure, the praise, the criticism. I know what it's like to try and lead a team through the chaos of constant change, all while trying to make sense of what Australian rugby actually stands for. "The core problem is that the coaches change every freaking two years." Pointing out that he played under Robbie Deans, Ewen McKenzie, Michael Cheika, Dave Rennie and Eddie Jones, Cooper said the "constant churn means you're changing the program every two years, and so consistent development is impossible". "When a new coach sweeps in, the whole set-up changes, the structure of the camps, the structure of who's coaching, the structure of how you're playing," he said. "This isn't just disruptive; it's crippling. "Australia has been unable to cultivate a distinct style of play because they're trying to get the best coach that's out there right now, rather than adhering to a foundational Australian identity. "As a result, Australian play over the last 15 years has had no identity to it. "I contrast this with global rugby powerhouses. "The All Blacks: Every time a coach comes in, their system is the All Blacks system. Coaches often have prior involvement and simply keep moving it forward. "The Springboks: South Africa is still South Africa no matter who has coached their team. They've just been able to add layers to it, integrating better players into certain positions without tearing up the whole playbook. "Their forward pack has not changed, they just add younger players to the mix that are more talented than the next." Cooper believes the "perpetual cycle of change in the Wallabies leads to the dreaded word heard so much in Australian rugby: 'rebuild'." "Every new coach starts building from the ground up. It's a self-perpetuating problem," he wrote. "My message is clear, at some point there has to be consistency. The Wallabies need to define their big rocks as an organisation, and their 'DNA'. "Only then can they establish principles of what you coach on that transcend individual coaching tenures, allowing true development and a consistent, winning identity. "Without that, the frustrations for playmakers and the team as a whole will continue to fester, leaving the Wallabies in a perpetual state of 'rebuilding' instead of genuine contention."
West Australian
22-05-2025
- Sport
- West Australian
'We'll keep it': SBW tips more Wallabies Bledisloe woes
Sonny Bill Williams is cautioning fans against thinking Australia's improved Super Rugby Pacific fortunes will help the Wallabies finally wrestle back the Bledisloe Cup in 2025. The ACT Brumbies are sitting atop the ladder three weeks out from the finals, the Queensland Reds are also heading for the playoffs, while Australian sides have only lost two home games all season in a vastly better showing than in recent years. Despite a run of four straight defeats, the NSW Waratahs also remain a slim chances of squeezing into the finals. But it's also the brand of rugby the Brumbies and Reds have been producing that has Williams convinced an Australian team can at last break New Zealand's decade-long domination of Super Rugby. "I hope so and that's coming from a Kiwi. It's been a tough few years," the two-time World Cup winner told AAP. "The great thing about this season is they're actually playing really, really good footy. Entertaining footy. Footy that you want to turn the telly on and watch. "Will that get them across the line? I'm not too sure because it's some stiff competition. "But that success breeds optimism and it's something Australia needs going into the Lions series and the upcoming World Cup (in 2027). "So it's good. Aussies love backing Aussies and getting on the train to success. That's what it's about. "At least we're not sitting here beating the drum that's not making any noise. Australian rugby's making some really good music." Williams, though, is not so sure the Wallabies will regain trans-Tasman bragging rights and return the Bledisloe to Australia for the first time since 2003. But the All Blacks great is predicting a titanic battle. "Look, as a Kiwi, hopefully the drought continues," he said. "But I honestly think that it's going to be extremely competitive and I think they can get it done, the way they've been playing, the Australian players. "So it's not crazy to think that they could get it back. But I'm a Kiwi, bro. I could never go against my brothers." Adding to the enormity of the challenge for the Wallabies this year is the fact the Bledisloe series will again only two Tests, meaning Australia must win both. A drawn series is never good enough, as the Wallabies have learnt five times since the All Blacks regained the prized silverware with a 2-0 series victory in 2003. Another loss at Eden Park, where the Wallabies haven't won since 1986, on September 27 and the Two-Test series will be over even before Joe Schmidt's men travel to Perth for game two on October 4. "In 2017 we played up in Brisbane and you guys got us up there but it's a tough proposition to beat a New Zealand team two times in a row," Williams said. "We'll keep it. We'll still keep it over there. It's all good brother."
Perth Now
22-05-2025
- Sport
- Perth Now
'We'll keep it': SBW tips more Wallabies Bledisloe woes
Sonny Bill Williams is cautioning fans against thinking Australia's improved Super Rugby Pacific fortunes will help the Wallabies finally wrestle back the Bledisloe Cup in 2025. The ACT Brumbies are sitting atop the ladder three weeks out from the finals, the Queensland Reds are also heading for the playoffs, while Australian sides have only lost two home games all season in a vastly better showing than in recent years. Despite a run of four straight defeats, the NSW Waratahs also remain a slim chances of squeezing into the finals. But it's also the brand of rugby the Brumbies and Reds have been producing that has Williams convinced an Australian team can at last break New Zealand's decade-long domination of Super Rugby. "I hope so and that's coming from a Kiwi. It's been a tough few years," the two-time World Cup winner told AAP. "The great thing about this season is they're actually playing really, really good footy. Entertaining footy. Footy that you want to turn the telly on and watch. "Will that get them across the line? I'm not too sure because it's some stiff competition. "But that success breeds optimism and it's something Australia needs going into the Lions series and the upcoming World Cup (in 2027). "So it's good. Aussies love backing Aussies and getting on the train to success. That's what it's about. "At least we're not sitting here beating the drum that's not making any noise. Australian rugby's making some really good music." Williams, though, is not so sure the Wallabies will regain trans-Tasman bragging rights and return the Bledisloe to Australia for the first time since 2003. But the All Blacks great is predicting a titanic battle. "Look, as a Kiwi, hopefully the drought continues," he said. "But I honestly think that it's going to be extremely competitive and I think they can get it done, the way they've been playing, the Australian players. "So it's not crazy to think that they could get it back. But I'm a Kiwi, bro. I could never go against my brothers." Adding to the enormity of the challenge for the Wallabies this year is the fact the Bledisloe series will again only two Tests, meaning Australia must win both. A drawn series is never good enough, as the Wallabies have learnt five times since the All Blacks regained the prized silverware with a 2-0 series victory in 2003. Another loss at Eden Park, where the Wallabies haven't won since 1986, on September 27 and the Two-Test series will be over even before Joe Schmidt's men travel to Perth for game two on October 4. "In 2017 we played up in Brisbane and you guys got us up there but it's a tough proposition to beat a New Zealand team two times in a row," Williams said. "We'll keep it. We'll still keep it over there. It's all good brother."
The Advertiser
09-05-2025
- The Advertiser
Snow action vs classy city. Which New Zealand tourist hub is for you?
One's a flat-out party town, the other an English-style slice of gentility. So which of these New Zealand hubs is for you? By Mal Chenu This battle of the South Island cities boils down to class versus crass. I asked my mate Dean, who was born in Christchurch, to compare the pair. "What's the best thing about Christchurch?" I asked. "No bloody Queenstowners!" he replied, before launching into a rant about expensive coffee, fat golfers, backpackers and ski bums. While Christchurch is not bereft of Dean's targets, New Zealand's second biggest city is more like a little slice of genteel England, even to the point where you can punt on the Avon. This is not gambling on whether the cosmetics salesladies are making a comeback but rather a tranquil excursion on an old-time river punt, pole steered by a classically attired punter in a jacket, tie, suspenders and straw boater. And if you don't like a punt, you can take a guided tour in a hand-crafted Maori waka, or row, row, row your own boat, kayak or stand-up paddle board. Christchurch is known as the Garden City and is on the bouquet list of petal-heads the world over. The Avon punts wind their way through Christchurch Botanic Gardens (New Zealand's finest), and in spring the city's famous cherry blossoms burst forth at Hagley Park and Kurashiki Garden. Restored and rebuilt after the devastating 2011 earthquake, Christchurch now rocks metaphorically. The city's flat, grid structure makes getting around easier than beating the Wallabies in a Bledisloe Cup match. While they haven't played a Bledisloe match here since the 'quake, Australia hasn't beaten the All Blacks in Christchurch here since 1913, as Dean is fond of reminding me. The Canterbury region pulsates for their almost unbeatable Crusaders, too. If you're a rugger bugger who likes your footy one-sided with a healthy dose of sleet (and who doesn't?) the current temporary stadium is the place for you. Christchurch is a university town of refined taste and high culture, of street murals and public spaces, of craft breweries and food trails, of endless gardens and rolling countryside. Of music recitals and memorable scones. A typical day might include an artisanal cheese tasting, catching a heritage tram to a gallery opening, designer shopping at Ballantynes in Cashel Street, a stroll along the photogenic New Regent Street pedestrian mall, and a fine dining experience around the Chef's Table at Inati restaurant, where you can pair your duck trumpets and tamarillo jam with a Bell Hill pinot noir. Meanwhile, your day in Queenstown, which exudes an intermingled redolence of midlife crisis, bravado, legal waivers and Red Bull, involves queuing with sweaty mamils for a $15 coffee, sitting in traffic, listening to people scream as they bungy jump, jet boat and paraglide, and queuing again for a Fergburger which, Dean grudgingly admits, is worth the wait. By Amy Cooper Confession: I've had a few winter trips to Queenstown, but I've never hit the ski slopes there. This is snow joke - although I know it's hard to believe when Coronet Peak's exhilarating roller coaster terrain awaits just 20 minutes up the road, and seven thrilling parks at The Remarkables (the clue's in the name) beckon from just a little farther. These spectacular alpine playgrounds, along with Cardrona's 40 kilometres of slopes and the hair-raising 700-metre vertical at Treble Cone, the southern hemisphere's largest ski field, make Queenstown the south island's cream of the drop. I always go with every intention of getting on the piste. But there are just too many other kinds of fun to be had in New Zealand's adrenaline capital. Queenstown is teeny - more than 10 times smaller than Christchurch. But the little alpine town's gargantuan appetite for good times dwarfs even the towering alps surrounding its stunning perch on the shores of Lake Wakatipu. Activities span the entire spectrum of stimulation, from bungy plunging 43 metres above the Kawarau River to hurtling in a jetboat through vast canyons along the churning Shotover River to white water rafting, luge riding, mountain biking and a million other things that make you scream, whoop, weep and giggle. The action's unleashed the moment you disembark at Queenstown airport, discover you're in a place where Uber is for sissies and transfer into town on a KJet jetboat, spinning 360s up Lake Wakatipu like a crazy toy right to your hotel jetty. Having overdosed on endorphins before you've even unpacked, you'll find you're within walking distance of at least 100 bars. Queenstown, with the country's highest density of watering holes, has one for every 75 people. These establishments tend to start the evening as deceptively hygge nooks with hearths and congenial chat, then morph into all-out banging nightclub vortexes that spin you round and fling you out to munch a legendary Fergburger before pulling you back into a party that's raged unabated since the 1860s gold rush. At some point you'll emerge, only to remember you're within 20 minutes of 75 wineries, and that Central Otago makes some of the world's finest pinot noir - and off you go again. Maybe, after sipping sublime drops at cellar doors like Amisfield and Chard Farm, you might squeeze in a blissful dip in onsen baths with panoramic views. Or ride in the Skyline Gondola up to Bob's Peak after dark to gaze in wonder at the galaxy and toast the stars with mulled wine. And then you'll find, like me, that you're out of time again. Next visit, you swear, you'll ski. But really you know that Queenstown's relentless revelry will divert you for decades or more until finally you slow down, or your knees fail. And then you'll be ready for Christchurch. One's a flat-out party town, the other an English-style slice of gentility. So which of these New Zealand hubs is for you? By Mal Chenu This battle of the South Island cities boils down to class versus crass. I asked my mate Dean, who was born in Christchurch, to compare the pair. "What's the best thing about Christchurch?" I asked. "No bloody Queenstowners!" he replied, before launching into a rant about expensive coffee, fat golfers, backpackers and ski bums. While Christchurch is not bereft of Dean's targets, New Zealand's second biggest city is more like a little slice of genteel England, even to the point where you can punt on the Avon. This is not gambling on whether the cosmetics salesladies are making a comeback but rather a tranquil excursion on an old-time river punt, pole steered by a classically attired punter in a jacket, tie, suspenders and straw boater. And if you don't like a punt, you can take a guided tour in a hand-crafted Maori waka, or row, row, row your own boat, kayak or stand-up paddle board. Christchurch is known as the Garden City and is on the bouquet list of petal-heads the world over. The Avon punts wind their way through Christchurch Botanic Gardens (New Zealand's finest), and in spring the city's famous cherry blossoms burst forth at Hagley Park and Kurashiki Garden. Restored and rebuilt after the devastating 2011 earthquake, Christchurch now rocks metaphorically. The city's flat, grid structure makes getting around easier than beating the Wallabies in a Bledisloe Cup match. While they haven't played a Bledisloe match here since the 'quake, Australia hasn't beaten the All Blacks in Christchurch here since 1913, as Dean is fond of reminding me. The Canterbury region pulsates for their almost unbeatable Crusaders, too. If you're a rugger bugger who likes your footy one-sided with a healthy dose of sleet (and who doesn't?) the current temporary stadium is the place for you. Christchurch is a university town of refined taste and high culture, of street murals and public spaces, of craft breweries and food trails, of endless gardens and rolling countryside. Of music recitals and memorable scones. A typical day might include an artisanal cheese tasting, catching a heritage tram to a gallery opening, designer shopping at Ballantynes in Cashel Street, a stroll along the photogenic New Regent Street pedestrian mall, and a fine dining experience around the Chef's Table at Inati restaurant, where you can pair your duck trumpets and tamarillo jam with a Bell Hill pinot noir. Meanwhile, your day in Queenstown, which exudes an intermingled redolence of midlife crisis, bravado, legal waivers and Red Bull, involves queuing with sweaty mamils for a $15 coffee, sitting in traffic, listening to people scream as they bungy jump, jet boat and paraglide, and queuing again for a Fergburger which, Dean grudgingly admits, is worth the wait. By Amy Cooper Confession: I've had a few winter trips to Queenstown, but I've never hit the ski slopes there. This is snow joke - although I know it's hard to believe when Coronet Peak's exhilarating roller coaster terrain awaits just 20 minutes up the road, and seven thrilling parks at The Remarkables (the clue's in the name) beckon from just a little farther. These spectacular alpine playgrounds, along with Cardrona's 40 kilometres of slopes and the hair-raising 700-metre vertical at Treble Cone, the southern hemisphere's largest ski field, make Queenstown the south island's cream of the drop. I always go with every intention of getting on the piste. But there are just too many other kinds of fun to be had in New Zealand's adrenaline capital. Queenstown is teeny - more than 10 times smaller than Christchurch. But the little alpine town's gargantuan appetite for good times dwarfs even the towering alps surrounding its stunning perch on the shores of Lake Wakatipu. Activities span the entire spectrum of stimulation, from bungy plunging 43 metres above the Kawarau River to hurtling in a jetboat through vast canyons along the churning Shotover River to white water rafting, luge riding, mountain biking and a million other things that make you scream, whoop, weep and giggle. The action's unleashed the moment you disembark at Queenstown airport, discover you're in a place where Uber is for sissies and transfer into town on a KJet jetboat, spinning 360s up Lake Wakatipu like a crazy toy right to your hotel jetty. Having overdosed on endorphins before you've even unpacked, you'll find you're within walking distance of at least 100 bars. Queenstown, with the country's highest density of watering holes, has one for every 75 people. These establishments tend to start the evening as deceptively hygge nooks with hearths and congenial chat, then morph into all-out banging nightclub vortexes that spin you round and fling you out to munch a legendary Fergburger before pulling you back into a party that's raged unabated since the 1860s gold rush. At some point you'll emerge, only to remember you're within 20 minutes of 75 wineries, and that Central Otago makes some of the world's finest pinot noir - and off you go again. Maybe, after sipping sublime drops at cellar doors like Amisfield and Chard Farm, you might squeeze in a blissful dip in onsen baths with panoramic views. Or ride in the Skyline Gondola up to Bob's Peak after dark to gaze in wonder at the galaxy and toast the stars with mulled wine. And then you'll find, like me, that you're out of time again. Next visit, you swear, you'll ski. But really you know that Queenstown's relentless revelry will divert you for decades or more until finally you slow down, or your knees fail. And then you'll be ready for Christchurch. One's a flat-out party town, the other an English-style slice of gentility. So which of these New Zealand hubs is for you? By Mal Chenu This battle of the South Island cities boils down to class versus crass. I asked my mate Dean, who was born in Christchurch, to compare the pair. "What's the best thing about Christchurch?" I asked. "No bloody Queenstowners!" he replied, before launching into a rant about expensive coffee, fat golfers, backpackers and ski bums. While Christchurch is not bereft of Dean's targets, New Zealand's second biggest city is more like a little slice of genteel England, even to the point where you can punt on the Avon. This is not gambling on whether the cosmetics salesladies are making a comeback but rather a tranquil excursion on an old-time river punt, pole steered by a classically attired punter in a jacket, tie, suspenders and straw boater. And if you don't like a punt, you can take a guided tour in a hand-crafted Maori waka, or row, row, row your own boat, kayak or stand-up paddle board. Christchurch is known as the Garden City and is on the bouquet list of petal-heads the world over. The Avon punts wind their way through Christchurch Botanic Gardens (New Zealand's finest), and in spring the city's famous cherry blossoms burst forth at Hagley Park and Kurashiki Garden. Restored and rebuilt after the devastating 2011 earthquake, Christchurch now rocks metaphorically. The city's flat, grid structure makes getting around easier than beating the Wallabies in a Bledisloe Cup match. While they haven't played a Bledisloe match here since the 'quake, Australia hasn't beaten the All Blacks in Christchurch here since 1913, as Dean is fond of reminding me. The Canterbury region pulsates for their almost unbeatable Crusaders, too. If you're a rugger bugger who likes your footy one-sided with a healthy dose of sleet (and who doesn't?) the current temporary stadium is the place for you. Christchurch is a university town of refined taste and high culture, of street murals and public spaces, of craft breweries and food trails, of endless gardens and rolling countryside. Of music recitals and memorable scones. A typical day might include an artisanal cheese tasting, catching a heritage tram to a gallery opening, designer shopping at Ballantynes in Cashel Street, a stroll along the photogenic New Regent Street pedestrian mall, and a fine dining experience around the Chef's Table at Inati restaurant, where you can pair your duck trumpets and tamarillo jam with a Bell Hill pinot noir. Meanwhile, your day in Queenstown, which exudes an intermingled redolence of midlife crisis, bravado, legal waivers and Red Bull, involves queuing with sweaty mamils for a $15 coffee, sitting in traffic, listening to people scream as they bungy jump, jet boat and paraglide, and queuing again for a Fergburger which, Dean grudgingly admits, is worth the wait. By Amy Cooper Confession: I've had a few winter trips to Queenstown, but I've never hit the ski slopes there. This is snow joke - although I know it's hard to believe when Coronet Peak's exhilarating roller coaster terrain awaits just 20 minutes up the road, and seven thrilling parks at The Remarkables (the clue's in the name) beckon from just a little farther. These spectacular alpine playgrounds, along with Cardrona's 40 kilometres of slopes and the hair-raising 700-metre vertical at Treble Cone, the southern hemisphere's largest ski field, make Queenstown the south island's cream of the drop. I always go with every intention of getting on the piste. But there are just too many other kinds of fun to be had in New Zealand's adrenaline capital. Queenstown is teeny - more than 10 times smaller than Christchurch. But the little alpine town's gargantuan appetite for good times dwarfs even the towering alps surrounding its stunning perch on the shores of Lake Wakatipu. Activities span the entire spectrum of stimulation, from bungy plunging 43 metres above the Kawarau River to hurtling in a jetboat through vast canyons along the churning Shotover River to white water rafting, luge riding, mountain biking and a million other things that make you scream, whoop, weep and giggle. The action's unleashed the moment you disembark at Queenstown airport, discover you're in a place where Uber is for sissies and transfer into town on a KJet jetboat, spinning 360s up Lake Wakatipu like a crazy toy right to your hotel jetty. Having overdosed on endorphins before you've even unpacked, you'll find you're within walking distance of at least 100 bars. Queenstown, with the country's highest density of watering holes, has one for every 75 people. These establishments tend to start the evening as deceptively hygge nooks with hearths and congenial chat, then morph into all-out banging nightclub vortexes that spin you round and fling you out to munch a legendary Fergburger before pulling you back into a party that's raged unabated since the 1860s gold rush. At some point you'll emerge, only to remember you're within 20 minutes of 75 wineries, and that Central Otago makes some of the world's finest pinot noir - and off you go again. Maybe, after sipping sublime drops at cellar doors like Amisfield and Chard Farm, you might squeeze in a blissful dip in onsen baths with panoramic views. Or ride in the Skyline Gondola up to Bob's Peak after dark to gaze in wonder at the galaxy and toast the stars with mulled wine. And then you'll find, like me, that you're out of time again. Next visit, you swear, you'll ski. But really you know that Queenstown's relentless revelry will divert you for decades or more until finally you slow down, or your knees fail. And then you'll be ready for Christchurch. One's a flat-out party town, the other an English-style slice of gentility. So which of these New Zealand hubs is for you? By Mal Chenu This battle of the South Island cities boils down to class versus crass. I asked my mate Dean, who was born in Christchurch, to compare the pair. "What's the best thing about Christchurch?" I asked. "No bloody Queenstowners!" he replied, before launching into a rant about expensive coffee, fat golfers, backpackers and ski bums. While Christchurch is not bereft of Dean's targets, New Zealand's second biggest city is more like a little slice of genteel England, even to the point where you can punt on the Avon. This is not gambling on whether the cosmetics salesladies are making a comeback but rather a tranquil excursion on an old-time river punt, pole steered by a classically attired punter in a jacket, tie, suspenders and straw boater. And if you don't like a punt, you can take a guided tour in a hand-crafted Maori waka, or row, row, row your own boat, kayak or stand-up paddle board. Christchurch is known as the Garden City and is on the bouquet list of petal-heads the world over. The Avon punts wind their way through Christchurch Botanic Gardens (New Zealand's finest), and in spring the city's famous cherry blossoms burst forth at Hagley Park and Kurashiki Garden. Restored and rebuilt after the devastating 2011 earthquake, Christchurch now rocks metaphorically. The city's flat, grid structure makes getting around easier than beating the Wallabies in a Bledisloe Cup match. While they haven't played a Bledisloe match here since the 'quake, Australia hasn't beaten the All Blacks in Christchurch here since 1913, as Dean is fond of reminding me. The Canterbury region pulsates for their almost unbeatable Crusaders, too. If you're a rugger bugger who likes your footy one-sided with a healthy dose of sleet (and who doesn't?) the current temporary stadium is the place for you. Christchurch is a university town of refined taste and high culture, of street murals and public spaces, of craft breweries and food trails, of endless gardens and rolling countryside. Of music recitals and memorable scones. A typical day might include an artisanal cheese tasting, catching a heritage tram to a gallery opening, designer shopping at Ballantynes in Cashel Street, a stroll along the photogenic New Regent Street pedestrian mall, and a fine dining experience around the Chef's Table at Inati restaurant, where you can pair your duck trumpets and tamarillo jam with a Bell Hill pinot noir. Meanwhile, your day in Queenstown, which exudes an intermingled redolence of midlife crisis, bravado, legal waivers and Red Bull, involves queuing with sweaty mamils for a $15 coffee, sitting in traffic, listening to people scream as they bungy jump, jet boat and paraglide, and queuing again for a Fergburger which, Dean grudgingly admits, is worth the wait. By Amy Cooper Confession: I've had a few winter trips to Queenstown, but I've never hit the ski slopes there. This is snow joke - although I know it's hard to believe when Coronet Peak's exhilarating roller coaster terrain awaits just 20 minutes up the road, and seven thrilling parks at The Remarkables (the clue's in the name) beckon from just a little farther. These spectacular alpine playgrounds, along with Cardrona's 40 kilometres of slopes and the hair-raising 700-metre vertical at Treble Cone, the southern hemisphere's largest ski field, make Queenstown the south island's cream of the drop. I always go with every intention of getting on the piste. But there are just too many other kinds of fun to be had in New Zealand's adrenaline capital. Queenstown is teeny - more than 10 times smaller than Christchurch. But the little alpine town's gargantuan appetite for good times dwarfs even the towering alps surrounding its stunning perch on the shores of Lake Wakatipu. Activities span the entire spectrum of stimulation, from bungy plunging 43 metres above the Kawarau River to hurtling in a jetboat through vast canyons along the churning Shotover River to white water rafting, luge riding, mountain biking and a million other things that make you scream, whoop, weep and giggle. The action's unleashed the moment you disembark at Queenstown airport, discover you're in a place where Uber is for sissies and transfer into town on a KJet jetboat, spinning 360s up Lake Wakatipu like a crazy toy right to your hotel jetty. Having overdosed on endorphins before you've even unpacked, you'll find you're within walking distance of at least 100 bars. Queenstown, with the country's highest density of watering holes, has one for every 75 people. These establishments tend to start the evening as deceptively hygge nooks with hearths and congenial chat, then morph into all-out banging nightclub vortexes that spin you round and fling you out to munch a legendary Fergburger before pulling you back into a party that's raged unabated since the 1860s gold rush. At some point you'll emerge, only to remember you're within 20 minutes of 75 wineries, and that Central Otago makes some of the world's finest pinot noir - and off you go again. Maybe, after sipping sublime drops at cellar doors like Amisfield and Chard Farm, you might squeeze in a blissful dip in onsen baths with panoramic views. Or ride in the Skyline Gondola up to Bob's Peak after dark to gaze in wonder at the galaxy and toast the stars with mulled wine. And then you'll find, like me, that you're out of time again. Next visit, you swear, you'll ski. But really you know that Queenstown's relentless revelry will divert you for decades or more until finally you slow down, or your knees fail. And then you'll be ready for Christchurch.
