In one of his typical charges of uncontrollable rage, Jesbass knocks over his own team's scrum without ball in hand...
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Apocalyptic Lament (750 words including title)
New Zealand in 2039 is a dark and desolate land. The disparity between the social classes has increased dramatically in the last few decades, with the wealthy living in opulent walled cities, protected from the rest of the population who scavenge just to survive in a newly regressive and primitive society.
The undesirables are used for bloody spectacles as a form of entertainment for the powers that be. Rugby league bears little to no resemblance to its turn of the century form, having degenerated into a gladiatorial fight club.
The only similarity between the two eras of the game is that the same players are taking to the field, their yesteryear heroic status wilting in the process.
The saddest aspect of it all is the horrible I told you so message being scattered through the remnants of what was once a proud sporting fraternity.
Stacey Jones and Wairangi Koopu saw it coming. They tried to tell us in their typically media shy way. They somehow knew that our great game and its legends were doomed.
Why else would they have
supported Labour leader Helen Clark in her ill-fated 2008 New Zealand election campaign, hoping beyond hope that the then governing party would stay in power?
But we didnt listen to their caution. In our droves, we voted in the opposition. We demanded change, and we got it!
Now look at us three decades have passed and our country and code are a collective mess.
Youll no doubt remember that it all started when the new government were seeking ways to cut costs in the midst of a global recession and the prospect of a baby boomer population nearing retirement age. The problem of having such a large proportion of the population relying on the government for income was perceived as one of the major causes for poverty reaching record highs. Those with long standing celebrity status, and former professional sports people in particular, were still living large at the average tax payers expense.
As far as the law makers and policy shifters were concerned, something had to be done about them.
The question presented to the new regime was how to reduce the costs associated with these seniors. If they were somehow removed from regular society, they wouldnt be taking money from the government. The desired end result was obvious, but the method had to be subtle at first, anyway, lest there be a nationwide outcry.
The solution was simple, albeit overly creative: force these ex-stars to play rugby league. Their ageing bodies surely wouldnt be able to cope with the physicality of such a tough contact sport.
It started out innocently enough, with ex-players taking to the field for the occasional charitable match under the guise of fundraising for worthy causes. But recently leaked government documents have revealed that subterfuge was already at hand as early as 2009.
With years to slowly persuade the public mindset, it only took 30-odd years for us to find ourselves in an embarrassingly shameful position. Our game had become a blood sport, with our yesteryear legends settling old grudges in the most primitive way known. When the catch cry of Bring Back The Biff resonated at the turn of the century, nobody could have imagined that we would end up with such hallowed blood on our hands.
The 2035 double-fatality rematch between Greg Dowling and Kevin Tamati on the 50th anniversary of their unforgettable on-field melee was a particularly messy affair.
Rugby league became the new baseball, renowned for its brawls and occasional moments of actual game play.
Of course, the fleet footed werent quite as quick as in their heyday; nor were their tackles as ferocious. But the impact from the bodily collisions was more deadly than ever.
Mouth guards were replaced by dentures. Every tackle and hitup shattered bones. The games heroes were left whimpering for mercy, as broken bodies littered the field, and the brainwashed crowds salivated at the sight.
These events, arranged by the government and with ex-players either voluntarily stepping forward or being recruited against their will, were held in crudely built underground arenas that earned the nickname of Underdomes for obvious reasons: two teams would enter; one team would leave.
With once proud rugby league venues like Mount Smart resting in smoking piles of rubble, the game has surely breathed its last.
Why nobody listened to Jones, and what the bloodthirsty populace will now do for entertainment, are questions yet to be answered.
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http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz-election-2008/news/article.cfm?c_id=1501799&objectid=10541599
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