One thing is for sure. You can never say never in sport.
Today that rings true even to matters pertaining to the influence external factors can have on teams and individuals off the paddocks, courts and pools.
In this country we are predominantly passionate about preserving our assets, making sure foreign interests don't gobble up the nation's heritage.
Yet, I haven't heard so much as a whimper from interest groups, media or sports commentators horrified with last week's unveiling of the new All Blacks jersey which has slapped across the front "AIG", the name of an American insurance giant.
In the blink of an eye, a proud sporting heritage, one of New Zealand's oldest, is now going to become a fence for graffiti artists.
In the late 1800s, records show the All Blacks' uniform comprised a black jersey with a silver fern and "white knickerbockers".
By the turn of that century, the New Zealanders were wearing all black, except for the silver fern.
I hear a collective sigh of "pheew!" at the thought of the Men in Black still out there slipping on knickerbockers.
Frankly, I prefer the embroidered silver fern, even when it's yellowed with age.
However, that jersey has evolved over the years into something more in keeping with fashion and more sophisticated material that breathes.
The adidas-manufactured three-striped fabric for the Rugby World Cup caused much consternation when it started to fray in its debut, although Sonny Bill William's ripped one fetched a handsome sum of money for some charity.
Okay, maybe we should make some allowances that the short-sleeved breed of jerseys offers females a degree of the wow factor in showcasing the sculptured bodies of some of the finer specimen in the ABs squad.
But last week's move is a clear indication that the black shirt is now a prime real estate for marketing moguls.
The test arena will not just become the battle of the rugby superpowers but also the battle of the best advertisers.
Like gamblers raising their stakes in a game of poker, multi-national corporations will be bidding for prime-time 30-second-plus snippets every time the TV camera zooms in on a player. Hookers will be the most sought after, especially from behind in lineouts.
The subtlety of an adidas logo was palatable but who is to say when the New Zealand Rugby Union turns the jersey into a canvas for filling its coffers, especially after the lean spell following its World Cup commitments in New Zealand late last year.
Commercial giants will go to any lengths to woo customers.
Imagine millions of TV viewers subconsciously soaking up some fast-food, credit card, beer or motor vehicle brand name while watching a test match.
That 30-second peek could become iconic concepts complete with short film-like scripts and characters in the mould of Spot, the fox terrier who won the hearts of multitudes in this country before going on to win advertising awards.
Top pop stars and musicians in the country can offer to do pre-match or halftime performances to coincide games with the launching of their latest albums, as the Aguileras, Beyonces and Madonnas have done in major sporting fixtures in the United States.
Money, no doubt, is the essence of survival in the lowest common denominator of human existence.
Sports bodies, like many other institutions, are no exception and need to attain and retain healthy profit margins.
But how big do the bucks have to be to satisfy the insatiable appetites of organisations soliciting funds?
Shouldn't a few things in life remain sacrosanct?
Maori iwi Ngati Toa, whose consent is needed to perform the Ka Mate, building a rapport with corporations for sponsorship?
The New Zealand union own the new Kapa O Pango, so that copyright should be a free for all in the game of commercial football, one would think.
Those who own pre-corporate dynasty jerseys should treasure them and pass on to their future generations because the new ones certainly won't have the same tangible or emotional feeling.