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By Iain Payten
November 25, 2008 12:00am
WITH one insight, Phil Blake almost nails why a cross-code battle between the Kangaroos and the Wallabies should - but won't - get off the ground.
"The stakes are so high. It's bragging rights for as long as you live," Blake says. "If one side took a hammering, imagine the crap they'd have to put up with for the next 50 years."
Spot on, yet still an
almost because Blake doesn't go far enough.
As far as the never-to-hear-the-end-of-it category goes, throw in the entire losing code, their loser fans and a roll call of loser officials as well.
It's as tantalising a prospect for both sports as it is downright scary.
A footballing version of the Thunderdome - two codes enter, one code leaves.
Perhaps, then, it's understandable that yesterday's news of a possible Kangaroos v Wallabies grudge match was met with far more enthusiasm by fans than administrators.
After a century of squabbling over the back fence, here was a proposal to end the neighbourhood feud once and for all. To put an end to the debate that's echoed through the blogosphere, schoolyards and pubs for generations - is the dominant colour of Australian football green, or is it gold?
In the end, the showdown was knocked on the head before Tina Turner could even warm up, but it left us with the question: Could a duel between our two national sides ever occur? It would certainly rake in the bucks, and both codes need to be innovative with Emperor Andrew Demetriou's AFL invasion force en route to western Sydney.
But despite the public interest, in reality the chances of a fully franked cross-code clash happening are the opposite of John Daly's waistline. Slim.
With the consequences of failure all too real for both code's officials, coming up with a spirit-level-even playing field would prove next to impossible.
In 1996, Bath and Wigan played experimental matches in the UK. Under league rules, Wigan won the first 82-6.
"The union boys really struggled with the 10 metres, getting up and back," recalls NRL referee coach Russell Smith, who officiated. "It was only due to the fact so many tries were scored that they got a breather."
In the second match, under union rules, Bath won 44-19. Smith watched the match. "The Wigan guys just couldn't get a hold of the ball," he says.
All that proved, Smith surmised, was that rugby players weren't much good at league and vice-versa.
So a set of hybrid rules would be required to see a proper battle of the codes, and therein lies the next problem.
Compromise would be needed to find middle ground, but changing too much of one game gives a leg up to the other.
Scrapping the contested scrummaging and lineouts of rugby would strip the union side of valuable skills and strengths. But given lineouts don't exist in league and the scrum is as useless as light beer in Andrew Symonds' fridge, to keep them in unaltered would be unfair to the mobile, athletic forwards in the NRL.
The backs aren't a problem. If anything, they're the most exciting part of a cross-code duel. Matt Giteau with more space to ball-play, or Billy Slater gliding through slow defenders would make the turnstiles spin.
But what about when a bloke is tackled? Does he play the ball or is there a ruck? Some suggest doing both, according to on-field location, but Blake advocates a rolling scenario.
"You could get two or three league tackles to get some momentum and then go into ruck and mauls. If I kicked it to you, it would eliminate you kicking it straight back, you'd run it back and build up," he says.
Blake, who played 261 league games but now coaches Manly's rugby side, supports cross-code experiments and is trying to organise a game against the Sea Eagles. He'd be the first in line for a Wallabies v Kangaroos ticket but believes realistically a cross-code duel will only ever happen at club level, where the stakes are far lower.
"That way whoever won or lost, it wouldn't really matter," Blake says. "Well, not as much anyway."
