Josh Dugan's private pain
DAVE Dugan will cry when his son runs on to Canberra Stadium tomorrow night. Always does.
"Because I'm one of the few people who sees it," the Tuggeranong truckie shrugs. "Who knows exactly what it means when my boy emerges from that tunnel and taps both shoulders with his hand."
Yep, two taps. That's it.
A blink-and-you-miss-it moment defining Josh Dugan better than anything over the next 80 minutes. Better than that going bang off both feet. Beyond every godly gift, in fact, that causes former Kangaroo Brett Mullins to concede "yeah, it is like he's bringing me back isn't it?".
Dugan, see, is defined by a ritual that for 24 NRL games has gone unnoticed. Unwritten. Unknown by all but those few family members who remember him as the Housing Commission kid with a rats tail.
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"But what I do when I'm heading on to the field, it's not about being noticed," the Canberra fullback insists. "I've never been the most devout of Catholics but I have my beliefs about what happens when those people most important to you die. And this ... this is about keeping them close."
And with that, Dugan lifts his blue surf hoodie to reveal the names. Andrew P. Dugan inked into the left side of his back. George L. Lawrence the right. Beneath them the declaration Forever Missed.
These are the two men to whom Dugan always points. To whom every game is devoted.
A loving tribute to days spent sitting at the dining table as George, his grandfather, talked family, cricket and those beloved Brisbane Broncos. A pair so close that even now, two years after emphysema took his pop, Dugan remains filthy that missed training sessions cost him the 2008 NRL debut he's convinced George was hanging on to see.
It's a similar pain lingering on the other side of his back. There with Uncle Andrew. The knockabout bush footballer whose visits where a whirl of presents, ice cream and trips to Timezone for Street Fighter challenges.
A father of two who, aged only 31, took his own life.
"Yeah, they called it death by misadventure," Dugan recalls quietly. "I was only 13. Couldn't go to his funeral. But my uncle was such a huge part of my life ... still is."
And for proof watch the game's hottest prospect look skyward immediately after those two taps which moisten the old man's eyes. Same deal after every try.
Watch him before games praying to his uncle for guidance. To his grandfather for strength. His wrist wraps initialled with GL and AD.
Family, you see, means everything to this NRL superstar who only moved out of home last month. Who shifted 25 minutes down the road and "still misses them heaps, ay". A fella whose $1000 Man of the Match award for NSW Country has already been banked into a savings account that will eventually buy his oldies their first home.
This is Dugan's way of thanking Dave, a truckie, and mum Jenny, a kitchen hand.
Two Housing Commission renters who "went ballistic" when, at 17, their boy came home with his surname inked down the left forearm.
"But I'm proud of my family, of where I come from," says this Raider who turned 20 on Monday. "It's why I've also got the initials of Mum, Dad and my sister Jaimee tattooed on my wrist too. I'm proud and want them to know that."
Indeed, Dugan insists family is why he exploded from obscurity last winter to run for more metres per game than any player - including Jarryd Hayne. Why this year he boasts more linebreaks than all but Darius Boyd. A kid so swamped by media this past fortnight with talk of NSW jerseys and secret Roosters deals, Canberra great Gary Belcher complains "look, I've done a dozen interviews on him ... is there someone else you can talk to?"
Is there what? Like Melbourne halfback Brett Finch, his junior coach. Or Clinton Schifcofske, a mentor in his teens. Call Bob Fulton, Laurie Daley, Andrew Johns, Willie Mason, Graeme Langlands ... everyone loves him.
Speak with ACT Brumbies centre Robbie Coleman, for example, and he'll tell you "ticker" has always been the key to this kid who led their South Tuggeranong Knights to four consecutive premierships from under-13s. Or mum Jenny, who spruiks the confidence of her boy who, aged 10, promised "I'll debut for Canberra at 18".
"But you fellas are talking Josh up like he's an overnight sensation," laughs Richard Keely, the man who coached Dugan in his first year aged nine. "You should've been there on day one. When he scored four tries and absolutely killed them. That's when we knew."
But for those of us still learning, Dugan is the kid who blew up his first letterbox at 12, started the rats tail at 14 and pierced both ears with a safety pin the following year. He drives an XR8 ute, lives with Toyota Cup centre Drury Low and has already lost three pairs of gold earrings that cost $300 a double. But what makes him great?
Because according to Canberra conditioner Matt Ford, there are plenty of Raiders faster and fitter. Stronger too.
Alan Tongue and Josh Miller insisting no one spends more time in recovery watching his mates train.
"But he just has this balance," Ford insists. "We've got one drill where players change direction repeatedly and Josh is so far above everyone. It's a mix of genetics, hard work ... and mystery."
Indeed, Raiders prop Troy Thompson concedes no one knows much about this wonderboy who speaks softly and shoots through whenever training is done. Who rarely watches NRL games on TV.
They've got no idea a koi fish will be his next tattoo. Nor that he's a Chelsea fan. Unaware, too, that his most prized possession is a tattered bush footy jersey that, hanging in a cupboard at home, looks almost lost among the suits, designer tees and schmick Canberra Raiders clobber.
But it's a jersey, Dugan explains, that Uncle Andrew left him.
http://www.heraldsun.com.au/sport/nrl/josh-dugans-private-pain/story-e6frfgbo-1225866387020
Hope you guys hang on to him
