Titanic for the Kumuls
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Plenti
No
Gut
There can be no doubt that fighting is inherent in the culture of Papua New Guinea. One doesnt have to look too hard at any portion of this volatile countrys history to find ample evidence to support this most primal of urges.
From the colonial perspective, it was once considered quaint to become immersed in the Somerset Maughan-esque lifestyle of the tropics, complete with emerald waters, jungled peaks, golden sands and dusky maidens. Add to that the allure of gold and the exotic menace of primitive headhunters, all with a backdrop of active volcanoes, hidden valleys and over seven hundred different dialects, setting the scene for an adventure novel
perhaps a paradise vanquished.
The irony of that phrase would not be lost on anyone who knows this potentially explosive Land of the Unexpected, but I digress. Whether its in legendary feats on the Kokoda Trail or the bar room tales of in their cups heroes, the essence of PNG can only truly be depicted by a mosaic of battlefields and rugby league holds the pride of place.
On-field and off-field tragedies have marred the development of rugby league in PNG since those heady days when a well-intentioned but largely misguided Gough Whitlam handed the nations reigns over to a starry-eyed Michael Somare. Rugby league followed suit and the die was cast for the great game to disintegrate into tribalism.
Much has been written of PNGs national obsession with the greatest game of all. Debates rage every time the Kumuls take the field, over their inability to excel given their indisputable toughness and passion for the sport. However, these very traits are what genius the countrys climb up the ladder towards professionalism.
Every village has a Marcus Bai or two or even three but how can they escape the web of nepotism that binds them?
Papua New Guineans are a people under siege, and the aggressors are themselves. In simplistic argument, the ultra-competitive nature of the PNG rugby league players is their downfall. Their need to win, their desire to compete and the inevitable disappointment for the statistical 50% who are losers, combines to defeat their enthusiasm. Rugby league is a game built around pressure and developing a controlled response to it. The average Papua New Guinean is ill-equipped to deal with that.
The pain and repercussions of defeat are as fickle as they are deadly. Todays heroes are tomorrows villains
just ask Adrian Lam.
From their earliest days, they fight. They subsist yet they must fight for their existence, they fight for recognition and they fight for life. Winners reap the rewards while losers wallow in the mire envy. Tribe against tribe, clan against clan
the battle lines are often indistinct but the depth of feeling is formidable.
Rugby league fans judge success by the result of game, however, the support mechanisms cannot be ignored. No player has ever reached the heights of stardom without the requisite preparation. No team has ever won a premiership without a functioning administration. These are inarguable givens, so why should anybody expect Papua New Guinea, the land of fragmented loyalties and insular politics to excel?
In any competition there can only be one winner, leaving the majority to stare defeat in the face. In PNG this doesnt mean get off the floor and try again next season, it means you are an abject failure and must be replaced.
The Kumuls are beaten by their internal system before they kick a ball in anger. Nepotism and the invariable "wantok" influence rear their heads and it's game over. The successful Kumul sides coached by Barry Wilson (late 1980's) and John Wagambie (early 1990's) were built around a nucleus of players who were allowed to stay together, until they lost and the ferocious local media pulled them apart.
Those teams didn't have NRL players, ESL players or returning overseas PNG players but were developed with care and due diligence by coaching staff who were able to get on with the job until their limited success irrationally inflated public expectations. Very sadly, the great names of PNG league, many of whom have gone on to successful careers, are now lost to the sport while another generation of power-hungry administrators fight over the bones in court.
Many fans would like a PNG NRL presence but the Bid Teams longevity is precarious. Lam, Meninga, Kramer and Philemon have gone and the cynics have written them off already.
The jury awaits
a gritty fight or paradise lost?
-v-
