There was no disguising the gulf in class between the teams on a grimly memorable day, writes Keith Duggan.

It was not pretty but, in the way of New Zealand rugby, it was beautiful and chilling to behold. And it was a reminder that the pursuit of excellence is a timeless preoccupation in sport. In one of his habitual swipes against city rivals Everton, the old Anfield soccer monarch Bill Shankley once declared: "There are two great teams in this city - Liverpool and Liverpool reserves."

That famous old soccer quip came to mind as the All Blacks unveiled the second of their perhaps invincible teams in Dublin on Saturday. It may be inaccurate to label the selected New Zealand XV as reserves but they did represent the more unknown and risky half of Graham Henry's bold and totalitarian approach. And it became clear that he was neither joking nor flattering the depth of his country's talent when he spoke of two distinct All Blacks teams.

Although the composure of the Irish team fell away on Saturday, much like a nervous horse exposed to thunder and lightning, there was something pleasurable and satisfying in watching the total subjugation of one professional team by a merciless foe. The "0" after Ireland on the aged electronic Lansdowne scoreboard became the chief fascination of the day, the lone star of frustrated effort as the afternoon darkened and the All Blacks' shadow team ran in tries with casual power and sumptuous ease.

Long after the game had ended as any meaningful sort of competition, thoughts turned to other, peripheral wonders. Would they let Ireland score? What would it be like to watch the two New Zealand teams go at it for 80 minutes? Were they disappointed that the home team couldn't give them more of a game?

The debut boys like Jason Eaton and the stunningly versatile prop John Afoa had been groomed on tales of the primeval atmosphere that makes November afternoons in Lansdowne so different. And for a while the nervous tension around the leafy suburbs seemed familiar enough. The day was chill and wintry and the passenger train rattled through the ground and seconds before kick-off, a full-blooded chorus of The Fields of Athenry rent the air.

But after that, it was the All Blacks theatre and it was their show. An audience that came expecting to see something familiar - a game of rugby - were made to watch what was a cold and marvellous spectacle in subdued recognition of one glaring and humbling fact: the countries may have been sharing the same rugby ball but they were playing two different games.

It wasn't so much the explosive power and aggression from the dreadlocked centre Ma'a Nonu or the shockingly cocky display from the New Zealand number nine Piri Weepu, whose boyband looks disguise one tough and serious customer. It wasn't that men like Mose Tuiali'i and Sione Lauaki could throw Irish strongmen like the 19-stone John Hayes and the 16-stone Denis Leamy as though they were jiving on a dance floor. It was the speed and the devastating simplicity with which they executed everything that so illuminated the difference between the teams.

As the Irish team grew more befuddled and nervous, they bunched together and threw rushed, intricate passes in the face of this formidable black wall of power and energy, waiting to bounce. The All Blacks covered the breadth of the field in three and sometimes two long and classically simple passes that depended, as all great sports performances do, on executing the very basic skills at an exalted level.

"What can you say really?" mused New Zealand assistant coach Wayne Smith when asked about how Eddie O'Sullivan must feel.

" I thought some of his boys played well. Horgan and D'Arcy did well in midfield and created a bit of a handful. They all played in parts. I am sure he will look beyond the numbers. And they are a good back row, aren't they? You gotta take your hat off to Easterby, to play with the crack he got in his nose. I think there are a lot of positives there to take out of it.

"See, we have some exceptional players who score when they should and the score count mounts up very fast. I thought the Irish played bloody well actually."

And that tacit sympathy was discernible in everything the All Blacks' strategists said on Saturday afternoon. Graham Henry has sat before as the mastermind of Celtic teams that have been obliterated and there was nothing the Irish could do against a New Zealand squad questing for perfection.

As the All Black leaders made their way to the interview table in the white marquee near the West Stand, with its foldaway chairs and gold chandelier lighting, captain Richie McCaw murmured in astonishment, "They don't even have enough seats up here."

It was a small oversight but it spoke volumes. In New Zealand rugby, casual preparation stands out like a glaring error.

As McCaw scolded himself for letting Ireland off the hook on a couple of occasions, new boy Jason Eaton stood in the cold twilight and reflected on his debut Test. Eaton has yet to play in a Super 12 game but thrived in the assured atmosphere created by Aaron Mauger and company. And he featured in one of the highlights of the game when he chased down Irish speed merchant Anthony Horgan on a rare break for freedom by the natives.

"Jeez, dunno what happened, he must have tripped or something," Eaton said generously.

But there had been nothing accidental about it. The lanky, blond lock had tracked the flame-haired Irishman down remorselessly and deliberately in a tackle that symbolised the afternoon. The green jersey got swallowed up in black so completely that afterwards even Graham Henry was surprised. Or at least he pretended to be.

"We thought we were going to be in for a hell of a game here," he insisted.

"And the way the guys played nullified the Irish team. And what more can you ask? The boys played superbly and a lot of players hadn't played a lot of Test football but they all put their hands up and it is going to create a huge amount of competition for places when it comes to picking the top team. Which is a good headache to have."

They leave Ireland with a graver sort of migraine. Wayne Smith thought we played bloody well. What that amounted to was a lone try after 83 minutes from a team carrying on through sheer, demented bravery alone. Destroyed and demoralised after playing well against an experimental All Blacks team. Chilling.