NRL Grand Final - Reg Reagan recalls bathing, dancing and playing with Wayne Bennett
Reg Reagan knows Wayne Bennett about as intimately as you can know any man you have bathed with - he lifts the lid on life with Wayne.
Reg Reagan and Matthew Johns
Well, the Old Flog’s done it again. The Wayne Train into his 10th grand final. Who would’ve thought?
You see, Wayne and I go way back. In the mid 70s Wayne dated my sister, Rhonda.
Things were pretty hot and heavy between the two of them and I distinctly remember the moment Wayne told me he was going into the coaching game.
The three of us were in the bath together, nothing kinky, Wayne and I were back to back, anyway, he just blurts it out in that docile, monotone voice, “Reg, I’m coaching Brisbane Souths this year, do you fancy joining the team?”
Why not?! The money was good, I loved the Brisbane weather and the thought of being coached by my future brother-in-law sounded like fun.
Unfortunately, Rhonda and Wayne didn’t last. Rhonda said while Wayne was a machine in the sack, she couldn’t quite get her head around dating a copper, given our late dad had been doing a 30-year stint in Long Bay after accidentally stabbing a bloke 20 times during a disagreement.
But while that relationship was over, mine and Wayne’s was just beginning, and has stood the test of time. Here’s just a few memories.
Brisbane in the 80s was fantastic, it was just like Australia in the 60s, and we were enjoying great success under Wayne’s coaching.
We won the title in my first year at Brisbane Souths. To be fair, the competition wasn’t strong – it’d be like playing the Bulldogs every week. Off the field was where the real action was.
The Supercoach earned the nickname Wingman Wayne, because every time we hit the clubs Wayne was right on my hip. I was Maverick, he was Goose.
In a lot of ways we were the odd couple. For instance, Wayne never touches the drink, whereas I’d drink my bath water if it gave me a buzz.
So, before we hit the town I’d pump four or five Beroccas into Wayne and in no time, a different beast. You’d swear he was off chops — I’m talking Joey Johns Mad Monday!
The ladies couldn’t keep their hands off us. Wayne used to wear these skin tight black denim jeans. When people spoke about Wayne’s balls, they weren’t referring to a Steeden
In ’87 when Wayne coached the Canberra Raiders I was the first bloke he signed.
It took me a while to adjust to life in Canberra, it was so different to Brisbane, the weather was freezing and you couldn’t bribe the coppers.
On the field, it was more success. I was a sensation that year, dragging a very ordinary team to the grand final.
Off the field, ‘Maverick’ and ‘Goose’ enjoyed even more success.
It seemed Wayne and I couldn’t be separated. We lived together, we shared headlines, we tied for first in Belconnen’s Succulent Studs competition. We were more than mates.
I’ll never forget those special Sundays. The leisurely 30-minute drives to Fyshwyck to buy our week’s supply of fireworks and skin magazines. Mates forever ... but will forever last?
THE MAGIC DRAGON
Wayne, of course, left Canberra to join the Broncos. I didn’t want to return to Brisbane. I’d fallen out with journalists at the Courier Mail after they ran a front-page story accusing me of fathering numerous children to numerous women and refusing to pay child support. The story was 100 per cent correct, but I took exception to them referring to me as a, “journeyman footballer.”
Eight grand final victories and Brisbane Player of the Year five times. Pretty good for a “journeyman!”
Wayne and I drifted apart. I watched him from afar as he enjoyed success after success.
I considered reaching out to him, but just couldn’t. I thought about him often and I suspect he, me.
Then, one day, he arrived at the front door of the little two-bedroom fibro at Lidcombe.
“Hello Maverick, fancy helping me win a comp at the Dragons?”
“You had me at hello, Goose…”
And win a comp we did. It was old times again. Me smashing schooners, Wayne smashing Beroccas, both of us smashing the dance floor. We moved a little slower, but our hips still had the trademark thrust!
Whereas in Canberra, we bonded over People magazines, at Kogarah it was cheese toast and potato skins. The day they shut Sizzler, a little of both of us died.
RABBIT HUNT
After our Dragons success, Wayne ventured to Newcastle and quickly ventured back.
He returned to the Broncos after that, but things quickly went to shit after losing a grand final, insulting everyone at the club and sending Buck the Bronco to the glue factory. Then he received a call from the Gladiator himself — Mark McGaw.
The former Souths centre had covered himself in glory as Hammer on the Channel 7 program Gladiators.
McGaw asked if it would be ok if he passed Wayne’s number onto Russell Crowe, who was looking for a new coach.
Wayne was reluctant, saying he didn’t agree with Russell’s politics. I had to inform Wayne that Romper Stomper wasn’t a documentary!
Wayne and I had met Russell years ago in LA. Wayne was going through his acting phase and had travelled to the States to read for the role of ‘Blue’ in Old School.
Over dinner, Russell had expressed his desire for Wayne to coach Souths one day.
That one day arrived two years back. And after sorting out a few little things (Wayne bleeding Russell for almost every penny) we were off to Redfern.
It hasn’t been easy, I’d forgotten how difficult it is living with the ‘Supercoach.’
The dirty laundry, the constant old man smell in the house, and the incontinence pads lying around the bachelor pad.
But here we go again.
A Souths win will be our finest achievement.
What a journey! Who could’ve imagined two young blokes who once shared a bathtub together on the cusp of history?
But our journey will continue. With all my illegitimate children now over 16, I’m returning with Wayne to Brisbane to coach the city’s second team.
Until then, Glory, Glory to South Sydney!
