Rugby League Independent Commissioners Announced

Well finally the day has arrived sports fans. After 3 years, 2147 Chinese meals and more back and forth than a Dale Shearer kicking duel the 8 members of the NRL’s Independent Commission have been named-and what a colourful bunch they are! Some are a bit left field I admit but I’m confident the powers that be have made the right choice (i.e. no John Ribot), what about yourself?

In no particular order; 

Commissioner -Bob Katter

The man to put the ‘Independent’ into ‘Independent Commission’ MP Bob Katter adds significant political clout to the NRL and will be a great voice to have down in Canberra. Whilst some may argue that holding a spot on the IC and working in public office may will see him wearing ‘too many hats’ Katter has been shown to excel in the field of hat wearing by often parading one that Kim Beazley could hide behind.

Commissioner - Murray Hewitt  

In perhaps a nod to the great contribution New Zealand players have made to the NRL over the years former Deputy Cultural Attaché for the New Zealand consulate Murray Hewitt has been chosen to sit on the IC on the grounds of his excellent organisational skills and strong entrepreneurial streak . Also Mr Hewitt has strong links to the folk/pop/rock entertainment world.

Commissioner -Dominique Strauss-Kahn

A man of exceptional international business experience Mr Strauss-Kahn has offered to work on the I.C free of charge for the next 25 years...provided he is granted complete political asylum and gets to personally employ his own house staff.

Commissioner - Tina Turner   

Sure she’s no Spring chicken but having presided over the game’s most successful period in the early 90’s Miss Turner seemed a logical choice. Also, her experience as Queen of Bartertown holds her in good stead with regards to the fiscal side of the game as well as ensuring the sanctity of player contracts (“GI you break a deal, you spin the wheel!”).

  

Commissioner -Bear Grylls 

Having conquered Mount Everest, rowed across the English Channel naked in a bath tub and successfully made drinking your own urine cool (perhaps someone should introduce him to Anthony Watmough?) Mr Grylls will need all his survival skills to navigate the hazardous world of rugby league politics where danger lurks around every turn.

Commissioner -Stanely the Steel Avenger

Disappearing from the public eye in the late 90’s Stanley has successfully reinvented himself as a leader in the renewable resources market by investing heavily in emerging technologies. Despite this change Stanley still has maintained a strong interest in rugby league and continues to fight (or at least break up fights) for the game he loves.

Commissioner -Sheila Dikshit

Following the success of the Delhi Commonwealth games (well, compared to the 1972 Olympics anyway) Mrs Dik(hee-hee)Shit(hee-hee) is renowned for her ability to handle crisis situations with aplomb making her a logical choice for the NRL I.C. Also, those monkey guards that were employed under her watch at Delhi are seen as being a welcome addition to Bulldogs home games.

Commissioner -Greg Smith

To give the NRL players a voice on the Commission former Newcastle superstar has been added to the mix. Following a long and successful NRL career Smith obtained his Masters in International Business with honours from Harvard University before going on to work as assistant executive vice President of Finance for the NFL and obtaining the Nobel Peace Prize for Medicine for his pioneering research into the lymph nodes of the Ugabatan swamp frog. Or so he says...

 Congratulations to all, here's to the future!!!

Dial 'S' for Strike

The last couple of weeks have seen a sudden rise in the use of the ‘s word’ in Australian sport. No, Channel 9 microphones haven’t been invading Craig Bellamy’s coaching box, but rather there has been the veiled threat of strike action by professional football players in the near future.
While industrial action by both NRL and AFL players seems a bit of long shot, you only have to look to the US and the current NFL situation to understand how potentially devastating even the talk of such things can be.
Strike action by professional sportsmen generally goes down with the average Aussie punter about as well as a novelty ringtone during a minute’s silence.

Well there's always an exception

It’s a bit hard for Sally Sandwich-Maker and Larry Landscaper to swallow the fact that they can’t watch Friday night footy because blokes who kick balls for a living want to put ceramic brakes on their Range Rovers.
Strikes in Australia are the domain of moustached blokes in high-vis gear and frumpy school teachers shouting repetitive slogans, and should only be talked about at the local baseball diamond, not footy fields.
But football, as they tell us, is now a business, and with the new TV deals around the corner it’s going to be a big one.
Rugby league’s last strike of any significance came at the start of the fractured 1996 season, when Super League aligned clubs forfeited their first round fixtures.
The move was met with only a lukewarm response by the players themselves, many choosing to run around for the South Tweed Koalas rather than polish their Dally-Ms in their week off.

These were desperate times

It was interesting then to hear former Super League poster boy Ricky Stuart subliminally sowing the seeds for possible player revolt by suggesting his New South Wales players avoid burnout by standing down for two rounds pre-Origin.
Even more interesting was the fact that he was to some degree backed by Wayne Bennett, the coach who would be most affected by such a move, which is a little bit like Bruce Wayne giving the Joker a character reference for a speeding fine.

"No seriously, it's not his go"

Is Stuart serious in wanting the Olympic build-up for the interstate decider, or is the cheeky halfback in him throwing the media another dummy?
If nothing else he appears to have stirred something within the Blues players, and it is likely to have a flow-on to other NRL contracted players who are bound to raise the question come TV rights time, just like their AFL counterparts have done so in the last month, of ‘What about me?’
A nervous NRL has been quick to hose down any talk of an extended standing-down of players. It’s a lot easier to entice the punters with Magnums than Paddle Pops.
But Gallop and the IC will want to keep the players content come TV rights time… or the South Tweed Koalas are going to have one hell of a team in 2013.

League's Local Legends and its Maligned Middle Class

There currently exists a class system within the football codes in Australia that would have Karl Marx furiously trying to book himself onto a Fanatics tour if he was still alive today. Like most class systems, this one has been born out of tradition, favouritism, as well as a healthy dose of ill-feeling, and is worthy of a deeper analysis.

Let us first take a look at the lower class, the working class.
That is, the local park sportsman Daveo who fits in two training sessions and a game a week on a boggy windswept oval in between a full-time job as a banker or backhoe driver.
Whilst the working class player is often ridiculed for his less than model looks and casual brutality from the upper echelons he is admired in equal parts for his bravery and honesty in which he plays the game.
Whereas the rewards for a player such as Daveo may be limited to a photo in the Dubbo Daily and a $50 Gift Voucher at Dorahy Meats he is forced to share the costs of his highly lauded brethren.
It is humbling experience to see a group of park footballers with bad haircuts and shirt tans risking knees, shoulders, ankles and possibly jobs all for the glory of a jug of beer at the club and suburban bragging rights.


For More info see RL movie 'Up n' Under'



At the other end of the spectrum we have the professional footballer, a man who makes his living from the game. A lean ball of muscle polished up and wiped down with some slick tattoos, the pro lives a life of fame, fans and…well, football.
When he’s not training, playing or eating he’s probably in an ice bath sleeping off a weights session or updating his twitter account.
Like the floppy haired hipsters on Masterchef he’s determined to wrench every last second out of his 15min and hopefully nab himself a cushy media gig or at very least some Storm financial shares.

Damn you Brian Waldron!

Whilst it is as easy to differentiate between the part-time park player and the professional as it is Dapto Showground and the MCG (hint: Dapto is the one were the old bloke with 3 teeth yells at you for stepping on the dog track) we start to enter an area greyer than Gus Gould’s new hairdo when we look at footy’s growing middle class, the semi-professional.

The semi-professional is a man caught in limbo. On the fringes of a footballing career, he is treated with contempt by the pro and with caution by the park player.
In effect, he has the worst of both worlds.
The part-timer is expected to train like the professional, but work like the park player. The stage he plays on is largely devoid of attention; he hasn’t the fanatical fame of the pro nor can he achieve the local hero status of the park player.
Much like societies’ middle class he strives to breach the defences of the upper class, all the while fearing the premature slide back into the park footy world from which he rose.

Hmm probably fair enough too

Perhaps the best example of the semi-pro’s plight is rugby league’s NSW Cup; the much derided second tier competition for NSW NRL teams that seems to change names more often than Cronulla’s home ground.
Unlike the Queensland Cup (and the BRL back in the day), SAFL, WAFL, rugby union and association football state competitions, which all have a strong histories as standalone competitions, the NSW cup is the bastardised version of reserve grade.
It is home to a mismatch of traditional clubs, mergers, NRL clubs lower grades, some local teams in outsourcing feeder arrangements and some totally made up teams.

It’s hard not to empathise with the NSW cup player. After busting your butt at training all week and working motivating dumpy housewives as a part-time personal trainer you find out on Tuesday that you’re not playing at a packed Parramatta stadium.
Instead you’ll be playing in front of some impatient wannabe-texting-WAGS and the strappers’ kids at Ringrose park against a bunch of eager rookies and ruddy faced journeymen, all hogging the ball like under 9’s in an attempt to impress the first grade assistant coach.

"The coach said he's scored an ACL-does that mean he will be in first grade next week?"

To top off your misery only twelve months ago you were being jetted around like a rock star in the under 20’s and you’ve just picked up the paper to find out Reece Simmonds has been selected in first grade for the Dragons.

Yes, that’s right, the team coming top of the NRL ladder is doing so without a NSW cup team, having its excess first graders run around in the local Illawarra competition.
It’s said that pre-Steeler days (mainly by old blokes in Thirroul Butcher spray jackets) that the Illawarra comp was like the Queensland Cup, and a quick look through the line-ups sees that one team alone in Helensburgh (home of Neil Pinncinelli and  huntsman spiders) has Brent Sherwin, Russell Aitken and Ian Donnelly on their roster- all blokes who would walk into Q-Cup sides.

Not a fast walk but a walk nonetheless

With Origin commitments stealing players, the Dragons plucked Wests Illawarra player and long time NRL retired Simmonds to stand on the wing against the Titans, much to the relief of Ben Westblade and the Corrimal Cougars who were facing their own Origin shortfalls due to their arrangements with the Dragons.
Sure, Simmonds looked a little rusty to start with, but considering he had been pulling night shifts at the local mine and expecting to run out in front of a fraction of the crowd at Ziems Park he seemed to acquit himself rather well.

Following the game he would have had downed a green Staminade or two and returned back to his workplace and his local club a legend, ready for next week’s big game against the Dapto Canaries all without having to suffer the ignominy of running around in a slap-dash competition sticky taped together by Geoff Carr because the NRL can’t spare a buck to fund a proper reserve grade comp.
Unfortunately just like the middle child, NSW rugby league’s middle tier is doomed to be ignored as it fails in its attempt to straddle the lines of pro and park leaving in its wake jaded fringe first graders… and some excellent local footballers too.

And did I mention the great comedy 'Up n' Under' ??

The Little Death

It may have been swept up in Paul Gallen learning to play prop overnight but Daniel Conn from the Roosters announced his retirement from the game this week. As far as careers in first grade go you would say the heavily inked Conn was somewhere in between John Rhineberger and John O'Neill, a solid player who had a fair crack at first grade in between some stretches in reggies.
Daniel ‘Dodo' Conn wasn't everyone's cup of tea (errrr especially not Michael Weyman's) but reading through his press conference this week it's hard not to empathise, if not sympathise, with the man.



He did have to spend 2hrs with Tara Reid after all

Although he seems to have been around forever Conn is only 25 and retiring from his career when most people are just beginning to settle into theirs. The phrase they like to coin for a sportsman's retirement is la petite mort, not French for clichéd memoirs but for ‘the little death', a feeling that even the most amateur of competitors can relate to when life forces them to hang up the boots and instead wash the cars on the weekend.
The term is poignant for the fact that like many before him Conn was forced to make the choice every professional footballer fears, the choice between a footballing life and life itself.
Conn's knockout injury was not of the ankle or knee but the neck, arguably the one body part a rugby league player can't do without and a brutal, invasive injury that promised only one thing for his future - pain.

You said it Clubba

For a rugby league player pain is the constant companion, one whose presence may be like a distant pen-pal during the good times but lingers like a nagging landlord in the aching bones and creaking joints on a cold winter's morning. The temptation would have been there for Conn to try to outrun his shadow, to take another jab and another pill to hold back the creeping tide, but time makes fools of us all and a stiff hospital bed can make golfers out of gangbangers.
Conn should fare better than many post football, a face that doesn't look like it's packed into too many scrums and the self-awareness to know his own limitations should see him through. Whilst his journey is just one of many the game will see it is still a sombre reminder to all the TV stations, CEO's and officials who make their living from the game that the footballing life of the player is indeed one that lives fast and dies young.



'Fast' is a relative thing.



Annus Horribilis

As the wheel of fortune turns in professional sport the average fan can expect their team to have a dud year every now and then. Yes, it’s never much fun losing and being teased by Dave from work, but hey, new seasons bring new hope. However, once in a generation will come that year.
A year so terrible, so full of woe, pain, tears and losing that it can shake even the most staunch supporter to their very core and tear century old clubs apart.
This, my friends, is the annus horribilis.
Every club has an annus horribilis (‘horrible year’) that haunts their record books.
The year where your team can’t buy a win, constantly has players out injured and your star player runs off with the coaches daughter. Some less fortunate clubs have even not managed to see out their annus horribilis (AH).
Take for an example the poor old 1999 North Sydney Bears, a foundation club who after decades of being as successful as Rod Henniker’s razor had become one of the 90’s most exciting sides.

Razor status: Fail

Even following the Super League debacle, the Bears were looking the goods for a sunny future in a brand new stadium up the road on the Central Coast.
Then, suddenly, all the bad luck they had avoided for the last decade hit them like a Terry Lamb elbow.
The Grahame Park stadium was delayed endlessly forcing the Bears into a nomadic existence, players misbehaved on a Wagga Wagga (what is it about that place?) pre-season trip, Ben Ikin attempted to leave the club early and coach Peter Louis resigned after a run of poor (see: terrible) form.
At season’s end the Bears were in debt and railroaded into a shotgun marriage with arch rival and another former high flyer Manly, a courtship that makes any of Lisa Marie Presley’s look well thought out.
If you look at things from a win/loss perspective though the Bears’ eight wins of the 1999 season is phenomenal when compared to that of the 1999 Western Suburbs, 1935 Canterbury Berries or mid-60’s Roosters sides who didn’t win a game between July 1965 and April 1967… a remarkable effort given the absence of nightclubs, mobile phones and Willie Mason in Bondi at the time.



William Mason and chum Wendell Sailor take a dip in the briny down at the Bondi Baths circa 1965


Think Aussie Rules and it’s hard to go past the 1993 Sydney Swans AH, a team that did about as much for the game in the expansion area of Sydney as that Port Adelaide clash jersey from a couple of years ago.
Asking a Sydneysider to watch a Swans game in this era was like going into the Coogee Bay Hotel wearing a trench coat and asking for a pony of XXXX – they were likely to look at you like you’d just asked if you could massage deep heat into their buttocks.


Special praise must also go to some of the final years of the Melbourne University club who lost a commendable 51 games in a row to end their time in the big league, although rumours that the Gold Coast Suns are campaigning for their reinstatement remain unverified.

Head overseas to the land of the free and the home of the ‘unknown fan,’ a silent protest where embarrassed fans will often turn up to the final fixtures of the year with a paper lunch bag on their head.

Could be an improvement for some Panthers fans admittedly

The noughties saw a dramatic shortage of these bags in the US city of Detroit when the local football team the Lions (2008) recorded seasons that were pretty much on par with the city’s post GFC economy.
I actually had the privilege of sitting next to a Lion’s fan at an NFL game in San Francisco on Boxing Day 2009. When it became clear the game was all but over for the visiting side I offered my condolences only for him to turn to me and drawl “Buddy, we’ve already won a game this year. The way I’m thinking is we’re on a roll.”
His optimism was in stark contrast to the coach of fellow strugglers the 1976 Tampa Bay Buccaneers and their coach John McKay, who when asked at a press conference about his offensive team’s execution stated that he was “all in favour of it”.
At least the NFL only has 16 games in its regular season. Spare a thought for Detroit’s local baseball side. The Tigers that lost 119 games in 2003.
Strangely enough this isn’t even a record, with that distinction belonging to the 1899 Cleveland Spiders baseball team, a side so woeful that they lost 134 games in one season-a cool 84 games behind the league leaders that left the players scurrying for a fridge to hide under.

Cleveland's #1 Draft pick for the 1900 Season

But on the upside at least they didn’t have to merge with Manly.

So sports fans, every team has had one-care to share your team’s Annus Horribilis??? I’m sure there’s at least one Eastern pride fan out there!

5 Ways to Survive a Sporting Stinker

Unlike movies, books and mail-order brides, there is no real way to gauge the quality of a sporting contest before you plonk yourself down to watch it.
Sure, the form of the competing parties can give you some idea of what to expect, but every now and then what looked like a quality clash in Bazza’s sports lift out turns out to be a boring, bloated stinker.
This is bad enough if you’ve spent all morning browsing antique shops or building a bird feeder to lock in a couple of hours on the couch, but what about when you’ve parted ways with your hard earned to attend said stinker? What’s a red-blooded sports fan to do?
Short of trying to locate Matt Orford’s ride home here are five ways to survive a sporting stinker with your sanity intact and still get your money’s worth without resorting to a Mexican wave or updating your Facebook status.

5. Jersey spotting.
An oldie but a goldie, simply cast your eyes around the stadium and see how many different teams merchandise you can find. Sure you’re bound to find plenty from the teams that are playing (unless you support Gold Coast United), but you’re also likely to encounter plenty of other jerseys that some spectators have decided to chuck on for no particular reason – a phenomena I’ve always found fascinating.
Is that big bald bloke two sections over wearing a circa ’88 Knights ‘Henny Penny’ jersey? And what about the large lady with the perm in the canteen line is that… yes it is – a mint condition Ballymore Tornados spray jacket!

Negative 20 points in case you're wondering

You get one point for each piece of different team merchandise and a bonus half point for anything from Super League, the ARC or AFL International Rules matches.
To make sure you get a decent tally, you also might like to do a lap of the stadium for a few different vantage points, a thoroughly understated experience especially if you’re at one of the country’s more impressive stadiums.

4. Heckle.
Sure it may sound a touch uncultured but it’s your right as a paying supporter to have an influence on the game via giving the players on the field a piece of your mind. There’s no need to be nasty or malicious in your words, just a gentle reminder here or there about how a particular player might want to improve his input as the Woolgoolga Seahorses are looking for a new fullback for next season or a quick comparison between the abilities of said player and your Aunt Gertrude is usually enough to get things started.

Tempting isn't it Luke Capewell

I know players will swear black and blue that they can’t hear you but given the proximity of the stands to the playing field that many grounds enjoy and the lack of cauliflower ears on the modern player I’m prone to disagreeing with them. Works for touchies, too.

3. The back play.
Much like a border collie down the beach, the TV cameras covering sport predominantly follow the ball around the park. Whilst this is great for simple watching at home being at the actual game allows you to observe what most of the cameras miss. It helps add a bit more of a human element to proceedings as you see the players niggle, catch their breath, mouth off to each other, niggle, position themselves for rehearsed moves, niggle, try to understand the instructions from water boys, niggle etc.

"Nothing wrong with that one rabs..."

The great thing about this is that the worse a game gets generally the more entertaining the back play becomes as frustrations begin to simmer between teammates, and it’s only a matter of time before Bryce Gibbs or some other pillock has a brain explosion and does something ridiculous that will appear on highlight reels for years to come – and you can say you were there!
2. Streaking.

A fairly drastic ‘Hail Mary’ type of tactic only to be done under the direst of circumstances as most grounds have stiff penalties in place for anyone who dares enter the poor fragile field (that’s just been trampled by a few dozen blokes built like fridges). Nevertheless, it is hard to deny the uplifting affect that a brief bout of nudity can have on a crowd caught inside the vortex of a dour sporting contest.
I was privy to this phenomenon one chilly night at Wollongong Showground when during the umpteenth stop in play a selfless individual took it upon himself to lift the general mood of the audience by completing a quick lap of the field sans clothing. Sure, the gentleman who chose to do the deed was a dead ringer for Sam Backo, however the mood change around the ground was instant, suddenly everyone was laughing, talking to opposition fans and generally enjoying themselves again. The players on the field seemed to get the message too and the match ended up being a pretty exciting contest.

Too late you've already pictured it

1. Communicate.
One of the big benefits to watching a game at the ground as opposed to on TV is the interaction with the crowd. Granted, it’s not terrible fun sitting in front of some hot dog destroying behemoth who yells, “Get ‘em on side!” every 15 seconds, but generally when the standard of play on the field drops the humour in the stands rises. People forget that long before internet forums that the original place for a group of tortured supporters to air their collective grievances was at the game itself.
Sure it can be cruel at times as an entire bay of supporters rues the fact that the new recruit has ‘feet for hands’ and the coach ‘should do the right thing and marry his Mum’, but scientists have shown that by letting off steam with a group of like minded people that the sports fan is a lot less likely to do something like belt the mascot or set fire to the oppositions bus on the way out.

As tempting as that may be...

And surely Matt Orford’s got to be happy about that!
So sports fans, how do you keep yourself and the kids entertained during those dull sporting contests?