Peoples Choice Post of the Year - Vote

[The Backpacker]

The following articles have been nominated for the Forum Sevens articles of the year as nominated by you. Please vote on the article you would like to see win this award.

Voting closes Wednesday 22nd at 9pm EST

 

[The Backpacker]

Big Mick (Panthers) Rd 5 – Penrith v Parradogs

The Coogee Dolphins- The Team, The Tragedy, The Tribute:

February 2 was a day that will live in the hearts for all Australians and Coogee Dolphin fans alike. For those as lucky as I was, to witness such a passionate and heart-warming tribute for the Coogee dolphins, I think you would agree that it was a moment that will always stay with you. In October last year, the team known as the Dolphins, were rocked to find that six team members and good friends were killed in an unprovoked terrorist attack on the Sari nightclub in Bali, where the team had been staying for a post-season trip. In a statement of patriotism and unity amongst the Australian public, a tribute was organised and football players united to play in an exhibition match.

For those that were travelling with the team to Bali, there were many statements of bravery, searching through the rubble to find lost mates. This was one of the bleakest days in both Australian history and the Coogee Dolphins club. Six men: Clint Thompson, Adam Howard, David Mauroudis, Shane Foley, Gerard Yeo and Joshua Iliffe, were all killed on that fateful night at the Sari club.

In an attempt to ease the suffering of mourning, the NRL invited the team to participate in the World Sevens Qualifying Tournament, held at St. Mary’s on the 28th January. In what was a show of unity and friendship, ex-football greats Mark Geyer, Matthew Johns, Brett Mullins and Adam Muir, confirmed their services to the qualifying tournament, in tribute to those that died in the bombings.

It was an historic day, with the Coogee Dolphins jersey taking the field for the first time since the Bali bombing. It was definitely safe to say that when the day came, the Dolphins were overwhelming crowd favourites, all and sundry hoping that this team could perform and get through to the next round, making it even more historic. The Dolphins competed in the hardest group of the four, going up against NSW Country and the NZ Maoris. The Dolphins lost both their qualifying games with 26-10 and 24-8 subsequently, to be eliminated from the tournament. The players that played for the Coogee outfit all left with smiles on their faces, knowing they had done their boys proud. Brock Thompson, whose brother Clint was killed, stated, “I think it was a fitting tribute”, and you couldn’t say it wasn’t.

But even though they lost on that day, in an amazing show of camaraderie, the NRL organised an exhibition match to be played between the USA and the Dolphins on February 2.

As the Dolphins took the field, it was evident the boys were doing it for their mates. Prior to the match, the organisers put together a tribute video, showing all the victims of the bombing. As one the crowd stood and looked at the large screen and watched attentively. It was a great sign of respect and heartache for the victims, making it hard not to be emotional.

Before we knew it, it was game on, with the Dolphins opening the scoring. The Dolphins were runaway winners 38-12 over the USA Tomahawks, who also suffered the loss of their Columbia Space Shuttle the day prior. One fitting memory that will remain in my mind for a long time, was when a Coogee Dolphin player scored a try in the north-eastern corner of the ground, next to where I was sitting, and got up and kissed his fingers and put them in the sky, saying “That one’s for you mate!”

The Coogee Dolphins are a team that has had many good times, a team that has fostered some of the greats of the game, a team that has given so much to the community. On February 2 though, it was our turn to give back, and give back we did. We all, as one, paid tribute to the victims of the Bali bombing. It was a fitting tribute to a team that has experienced so much hardship and mourning over the last few months. It is hoped that the tribute eased some of the suffering of the families and the club, to some extent, knowing that Australia is suffering with them.

 

[The Backpacker]

Bunny Boy (South's) Rd 7 – Newtown v South's

An ode to South Sydney………

It’s been a long time for the red and green
Since 1989 the semis we’ve not seen.
The fans are left ruing what has gone wrong
The old Glory Glory is just another song.

For mighty Clive Churchill would be fuming with hate,
Because his beloved footy team, is no longer so great.
The sixties and seventies are merely a dream,
All we no of now, is a wooden spoon team.

Year after year we are constantly fed,
Of mediocre performances, and players we dread.
We lose all our juniors, there all classy acts,
Then we buy rejects, and we question the facts!

Why are we moving so slowly these days?
Why are our players, constantly left in a daze?
Why is our team the constant laughing stock?
There always laughing at us, and continue to mock.

Is there any light at the end of the tunnel?
Will we soon see, a Souths winning huddle.
Or will we continue to lose and come last,
And just watch old videos and live in the past.

Something needs changing; I dunno what it be,
Maybe it’s the coach, the players, or perhaps Tappy.
Whatever it is, I want changes soon,
I’m sick of coming last; I don’t want the dreaded spoon.

The fans deserve more, weve stuck all this way,
Give us our team, who prides in their play.
Give us a team who will play like Sattler,
When the chips were down he was our battler !

Give us a team who will write history,
Give us a team who will end this misery.
Were not asking for premierships, not yet twenty one,
We just want some passion, when the game is said and done.

The red and green faithful will stick solid and true,
Forever and ever we will follow you,
But give us a glimpse, some sort of shining light,
That youll play for the pride, and continue to fight.

Now Langers this season is over and done,
And weve never been further from premiership twenty one.
But now it is up to you and your crew,
To bring us back to those semis we rue.

Were not asking for much, as we wipe away these tears,
But weve waited so long, its been 13 bloody years.
Cant you get them up and raring to go,
Playing for that jersey making history as we go.

Tell them of players that have played in the past,
Tell them their jersey, will always bloody last.
They are playing for the greatest ever footy team,
Theyre playing for the pride who wear red and green.

Sattler, Chuchill, Sait and co,
They are household names wherever they go.
Tell them to play, like they’re reaching for stars,
Because the life of footballer doesn’t last.

Why cant those days, just come back tommorrow,
When the mighty red and green jump out of their burrow.
Out they jump and onto the field,
Scoring tries all over, and the trophy they yield.

Im still a young lad, all I remember is we lose,
At this bloody rate im going to hit the booze.
Its hard to maintain love when the pain has been long,
But my blood is red and green and my rabbit skin strong.

Ill never desert you, ill never back away,
But lets start against the Dogs, at Aussie this Sunday.
Show us your courage, show us your pride,
Show us you want to play for our great side.

Hold your heads high, and remember those names,
The stars who wore those before you, in glorious games.
Reach the highest mountain, climb to the top,
And when you get there, hold the Souths flag aloft.

And if your ever going to get to this day,
If this premiership glory ever comes our way.
This promise to you, it will never end,
Forever and a day youll be a Rabbitoh legend.

I just hope this day will come very soon,
And I promise that week ill be on a constant goon.
Let it bloody happen before I pass away,
And we will sing you a song forever and a day.

Don’t worry Sir Clive, im sure your watching us,
And instilling some pride, in our players guts.
And when we reach that elusive twenty one,
Youll be on our minds, when the premiership is won !

 

[The Backpacker]

Gorilla (Newtown) Major semi final Newtown v Easts

The bigger they are……

I weighed the wedding tackle the other night. After having a shower I was admiring myself in the mirror, just window shopping, when I spied the bathroom scales on the floor.

I put the scales at a convenient height, and plonked down the play equipment. I had a bit of a wait, but luckily the scales weren't cold. They just lay there like an Irish lunch - a couple spuds and a sausage.

Eventually the stewards report was in - "weights right" - I came in at a healthy 3.2 kilograms *. I was chuffed. It's actually bigger than any fish I've ever caught, including the old man sea bream up near Rockhampton.

I quickly pointed out to the missus what a surprise packet she had but was quite deflated when she told me "it's not what you've got but how you use it". I began to argue but she simply pointed out that just because a league team has a big and heavy pack, it doesn't mean they are going to win against a team that best uses the forward muscle at its disposal.

Somewhat less tumescent, I went out to the back porch and thought about it. I recalled all the so-called ‘big fellahs’ who were supposed to wreak havoc but couldn’t come to grips with using their size, like Garrick Morgan for the Crushers and Tony Darcy from Penrith, and more modern players like Beattie from the Sharks or Carlaw from the Broncos.

Now the obvious “best packed lunch” is someone like Ryles from St George or even past players like Mark “Vesuvius” Geyer or the most recent Immortal Artie Beetson – all players that used their height, weight and general size to generally good effect.

Then I thought about all the ‘little Generals’ and ‘pocket rockets’ like Bunny “The Axe” Reilly from Easts and Buderus from Newcastle. These smaller guys hit hard and know how to use what they’ve got, whether it’s in defence or attack. Even Joey Johns topples monster forwards with good technique.

The Canterbury packs of the eighties are another good example of the smaller pack beating larger packs, guys like Peter Kelly and Geoff Robinson were not big by today’s or even those time’s standards but they were hard and successful. Peter Kelly was one of the most feared forwards for a couple of seasons.

Look at the Broncos pack. Webke, Tallis, Civoniceva, Carlaw, Meyers – all big guys but just couldn’t muscle up at the end of the season. The Sharks’ pack under the coaching of Chris Anderson and the need to play on-a-roll, right on the advantage line, for Kimmorley to perform was constantly outplayed by smaller packs. The Bulldogs and Canberra have shown that it’s the size of the fight in the dog not the size of the dog in the fight.

This season Canberra has been one of the greatest examples of the ‘smaller’ man doing well through good technique and style. Players like Woolford, Davico and even Hindmarsh (the smaller one) have all finished on top of other bigger players because of their drive and hunger

The only really big guy in the Bulldogs pack is ‘Big Willie’ (almost Freudian in light of my earlier actions…). Players like O’Meley, Price, are average forward builds, whilst players like Reardon and Norton consistently play above their weight.

The Roosters really only have Morley who plays with size and bulk, whereas others like Fitzgibbon, Ricketson and Cayless all play beyond their frames and builds. The Panthers also had the ‘Hair Bears’ rampaging around the ground – big builds and lots of energy, but the balance of their pack; players like Ross, Sattler, Lang and Clinton, all demonstrate week in week out the need to have players use their talents, energy and style to perform well, rather than blankly relying on bulk and size.

I suppose that the best exponents of the big man with attitude and skills pack is the Warriors. They have relied on their bigger forwards to play loose and free, with surprising results in the second half of the season. Seuseu, Villasanti, Swann and to a lesser extent through injury, Lauitiiti have all shown that size used properly can count best of all.

The catch with all this is anyone can be good - the adage stills rings true: doesn’t matter what your size, big or small, it’s what you do with it.


* My dad was a greengrocer – I had my thumb on the scales…

 

[The Backpacker]

Louis Lambert (Parradogs) Rd 8 – Sharks v Parradogs

The NRL's Culture Struggle

I see culture as perhaps the single most important issue facing rugby league teams. Forget AFL, forget the calls for a team on the central coast, and forget poker machine legislation. This is way more serious.

Coaches Chris Anderson and Paul Langmack have acknowledged the value of a good team culture – and the destructive nature of a bad one – by going so far as to put their season down to cultural issues. So, it is my view that negative team cultures have fans supporting a game that could be so much better.

The NRL is a weird paradox. Most players are now full-time professionals yet they aren’t expected to act this way. The game wants to be taken seriously, but also wants to hold onto outmoded traditions.

What are they talking about?

Culture refers to beliefs, which ultimately shapes behaviour. In Christianity it’s about love and forgiveness, at the Brisbane Broncos it’s about professionalism, and in some biker tribes it’s about fast bikes, easy women, and speedy drugs.

The importance of culture to any group is that it shapes how people act

Earlier this season, Knights and NSW prop Josh Perry was scorned for administering a bitchslap to a patron at a popular Newcastle nightspot, last weekend’s papers reported on drunken deeds by Dragons players at a fundraising event, while team bonding sessions – a euphemism for players getting as drunk as Cooter Brown – are still the norm.

What do these two events have to do with culture? These two separate acts are, to an extent, legitimised. In the first instance, it’s what Reg Reagan calls “the biff”. In the second, it’s the indivisible nature of NRL players and alcohol.

Reagan, the alter ego of former Knights player Matthew Johns, gives an interesting insight into the culture at team level. Although an intentionally hackneyed character, Reagan perpetuates certain behaviours by reinforcing beliefs about the sport, which ultimately encourage certain acts.

Yet, in some instances, culture forbids certain acts

When John Hopoate, then a Wests Tigers winger, was found to have used his fingers in inventive ways to slow down opposition players, the rugby league world went for the throat. “Disgusting”, “appalling”, and “inexcusable” were just three words sure to be found in any two-bit journalist’s editorial column during this time. The interesting thing is that, while what Hopoate did is no more indecent than the notorious squirrel hold or happily married NRL players going the group stoop after each interstate jaunt, the posture of rugby league as a ‘man’s game’ meant character assassination was Hopoate’s only fate.

Culture and team performance

How does an NRL team’s culture affect on-field performance, Louis? Well, if you can accept that culture affects behaviour, you can instantly see why Newcastle is not as potent when halfback Andrew Johns is absent. Or why, when the Roosters rack up a big lead, Fittler comes off for a rest only to come back on when the big lead is not so big. Their talent only explains half of the story.

Roosters coach Ricky Stuart is actively striving to get his players around the mindset that Fittler is indispensable where Knights coach Michael Hagan talks about the challenge of keeping Johns fit for finals football. Based on this - and if I were an NRL player - I’d much rather play under Stuart than Hagan. The latter approach must have a hugely negative impact on a Johns-less Knights side.

When one understands how culture is connected to these events, one can also see the significance of rugby league cultures and how our game has room to improve in the cultural sphere.

Obviously, Reg Reagan has touched on some primordial nerve in the NRL athlete’s psyche. If we understand this, we should understand something important about damaging team cultures. That cultures can be changed, but only by players, coaches, and administrators ready to take on a brave new world.

 

[The Backpacker]

Ozzie (Easts) Grandfinal – Newtown v Easts

YOU DID GOOD MY SON

I was minding my own business and picking daisies when dad walked up to me and threw this strange shaped ball at me, it was a football. He said kick it- what does a kid in diapers do but try, miss the ball and loose his diapers – but he patted me on the head and said “you did good my son”.

We now go to when I was 12 and playing backyard football with the neighbours and kicking up pansies. This was never a problem for dad because he would sit and watch, applaud a good try, replant the pansies, and on a hot day he would go and get us a cold drink.

Years went past and every game I played – he was always on hand and encouraging me – sometimes too much, but he would always say, “You did good my son”.

When I was selected to play for the ACT in the U/16’s he made a special effort to come across to Canberra and I thought to myself “ he looks pale”, but it may be the cold. I was working in Canberra and he was living in Harden an 90 minute trip by bus in those days, a long trip on a cold day.

He, as an ex first grade player came with me to meet the coach of my club, South Canberra. They had a good yarn about football and he made a friend that day. The coach could only speak highly of him. Dad took the side for a run and ran us through some new moves, which was tremendous. We used some of those moves to beat a highly fancied East Canberra in the semis, but we were not good enough to beat Queanbeyan Blues in the grand final. I didn’t think Dad would be there for the game but when we ran onto the ground at Seiffort Oval I heard a roar and it was Dad saying, “come on boys”.

When the dust cleared from the battle he was the first into the dressing shed saying “lift your heads guys – it’s a game and you did yourselves proud”. He then started to sing Danny Boy, his favourite song. Well being young guys we listened then started to laugh. He had began to take the pain of the loss away.

It was further erased when he shouted us all a Chinese meal. I had a good look at him and thought” he looks awfully pale”.

I came back to Harden to play u/18’s and had a good season, I played lock and the side I played in was an ordinary side so it wasn’t hard to stand out. I was asked if I would go to Goulburn to try out for the U/18’s for Group 8. My father was there again congratulating me saying “you did good my son”

When the sides where selected for a possibles and probables I had been selected at fullback – a position I had played sometimes but not much. I played the first half and came off in tears as it was obvious that no representative from Harden was there to back up my claims of playing lock – but my father pulled me aside and said, don’t worry son, I’ll speak to the selectors. Imagine my surprise when I played lock in the second half.

When the game was over Dad came over and said to me “you did good my son” and put his hand on my shoulder. The team was named; I fell over with shock when I was named as lock and captain of the Group side. Evidently the selectors had been watching my previous games but Dad had reminded them that I was not a full back.

From there to my first grade debut – I looked for my father but I couldn’t see him in the crowd at Crookwell. Geez I thought he’d be the first to be here. I didn’t think much of it, maybe he was down the pub, as he liked a beer and would wander up when the game started. Little did I realise he had died, a cancer took him away that afternoon, but mum had been sworn to secrecy by him.

I was shattered and many a time afterwards when I was "down" in the dressing shed after a loss I sometimes felt a hand on my shoulder and a voice in my ear saying “you did good my son”.

 

[The Backpacker]

Penelope Pittstop (Easts) Rd 4 – Easts v South's

The Craig Fitzgibbon Interview

“I’m ready,” I said, speaking with the simplicity of a great star who had somehow managed to retain the common touch. As I glided along in my BMW 3 Series coupe, I had never felt more like a Roosters Supporter in my life…. The Latte drinking BMW driving ‘rich bitch’ tag was certainly an image I could handle.

To ease my nerves I began to sing a song, just a little ditty that came to me as I was driving. Sung to the tune of My Favourite Things.



At fulltime the siren declares you the winner,
The adage rings true and your truly a grinner
They’ve packaged the points in your teams colour strings
These are a few of my favourite things

Just at half time with no points on the board
You sank to your knees and just prayed when they scored
The pride in your jersey and Premiership rings
These are a few of my favourite things

The ref and his whistle proclaim ‘It is a TRY’
You’ve got the game won there’s a tear in your eye
Your club song is playing and everyone sings
These are a few of my favourite things

When the ref’s blind, and a loss stings, when I’m feeling sad,
I simply remember my favourite things and then I don’t feel … so bad.

After being stopped by a police officer and charged with disturbing the peace, I finally made it to training. Stepping out of the air-conditioned car in my Rooster blue cashmere tailor-made suit, the heat was overwealming, but an interview with Craig Fitzgibbon after a training session kept me focused.

“The Lady looks hot, throw her a Gator”, yelled Ronnie, “And while your at it, get her some training gear.” "WHAT", I thought, aren’t they impressed with the Rooster Supporters image that is so widely touted? Walking back out onto the paddock in a pair of Rooster shorts that dangled to my ankles and a jersey flicking around my knees, I had never felt more like a Rooster Supporter in my life….


Craig Fitzgibbon was warming down as I approached him, he had finished some slow jogging and was stretching to achieve greater flexibility, holding the stretches for sixty, helping the muscles relax and reduce tension. It would be my turn during the recovery process.

“Craig”, I said, “I’m Helen of Troy~… “You know, from The Seven's.” The lazy smile that lit up his face assured me I wasn’t dreaming. Dear Reader, it is with the greatest of pleasure I record verbatim my interview with CRAIG FITZGIBBON.

H.o.T: “Craig, after winning two player of the year awards in a row, being rewarded for your outstanding efforts with a Premiership and an Australian Cap, plus also being loved by each and every Rooster supporter for what you’ve personally done for us. What exactly did you feel when you walked to the grandstand and accepted one of the greatest awards of all ... the Clive Churchill Medal? (I finally paused to breathe)

C.F: "It is all a bit of a blur. I felt a bit embarrassed at the organisation of the presentation, as I really wasn’t sure which way to go. But overall I’m very thrilled."

“Did you buy Brad Fittler a few beers after winning the medal?”

"We had a few beers together and it was a Big Celebration, I am not really sure who paid."

“Who is the fellow Rooster player who most makes you feel like you are glad you are playing for the Roosters?”

"The whole team, can’t really single one out, we are all close."

“What did you feel mentally before your third Grand Final in four years? Were you more nervous to get the hudu off your back?”

"Felt great. Not nervous at all, I was really looking forward to it. The other Grand Finals just made me more hungry for this one."

“Craig how has your family helped you achieve all that you have?”

"They have been very supportive in all aspects of my life. Always let me make the decision and then stick by me."

“How does it feel working with Ricky Stuart?”

"Great. Sticky has shown a lot of faith in me so I have tried to return that by playing to my best potential. It is a privilege to work with Ricky Stuart”

“So Craig, did I look a dope turning up in a suit to training this afternoon…?”


TO BE CONTINUED…..

 

[The Backpacker]

The Backpacker (Easts) Rd 8 Easts v Penrith

Life’s Injustices

The Haka is a common fixture in the International sporting arena today. Interpreted as a war dance, the Haka (Ha = breath, Ka = to ignite) is a way to “ignite the breath, energise the body and inspire the spirit”¹, to prepare the body, mind and soul for the upcoming battle. Many have had the prestigious honour of leading the Kiwis Haka but none more awe-inspiring and somewhat fearsome, than Tawera Nikau. ‘T’, in full cry, with his mullet flying, eyes bulging and tongue protruding, could make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end and this was before the ensuing battle had even begun. Unfortunately, due to a feud with Richie Blackmore stemming from a dispute between their wives, Nikau’s career with the Kiwis came to an abrupt end in 1997 after donning the black jersey on 19 occasions between 1989-97 and, apart from an impromptu Haka in the shed after Melbourne’s 1999 Grand Final win, we were only to see Nikau lead the Haka in the sporting arena again, during the World Cup (2000) as Captain of the Aotearoa Maori side.

Nikau came from humble beginnings, playing senior league in the Waikato and for Otahuhu before heading to York, Sheffield and then signing with Castleford. Earmarked early on as a player with talent and somewhat brutal in his attitude on the field, he was soon signed by Cronulla and then Melbourne before finishing his career at Warrington. The rumblings of problems with his manager, a harsh negotiator and sometimes demanding individual plagued his career but Nikau stood by his manager and attributes his success to her tough, no nonsense attitude. A hard-nosed negotiator in the boardroom, a loving wife and mother in the home, he once described her during a documentary. Nikau’s manager was his wife, Letitia. On the outside, a semblance of toughness, on the inside a somewhat different picture emerged, for Letitia Nikau was brought home, to be laid to rest with her Whanau after committing suicide in April 2001. The news rocked the League community as pictures of Tawera, flanked by his children Heaven-Leigh and Tyme-Kane, grieving by their wife and Mothers graveside, were beamed around the world.

While this tragedy would have broken the spirit of some Men, Nikau forged on, returning home at the end of 2001 and settling in his hometown of Huntly, a small town characterised by high unemployment, low education and income levels and a rising problem with the local youth brought about by the lack of opportunities available to them in the small community. Nikau set about forming a Youth Academy, a place where youth could be taught life skills and job training, he gives his time to many youth sporting events, has became a motivational speaker, completed a Diploma in Tertiary teaching and began studying towards a Bachelor of Education, coached league and opened a bakery in Huntly. He is also in the process of setting up a boxing academy in his hometown, a result of his involvement in the Yellow Ribbon ‘Fight for Life’ a charity for which he has recently become patron of².

Nikau had been recruited to fight one of AFL’s hard men in this year’s Trans-Tasman ‘Fight for Life’ after convincingly beating Peter Fatialofa in last year’s Union v League match ups for the charity, when he collided with an oncoming car riding his Harley on July 1st. Word filtered through that he had fractured his femur and wouldn’t be able to fight. Ensuing complications initiated by a blood clot meant that Nikau lost his leg below the knee on July 30th. Once again, the league community has been rocked and Nikau could be forgiven for lying down but, in an exclusive interview only 2 days later, he stated that he didn’t want sympathy, just some time with his family to get on with things and was already talking about competing at the Para Olympics once his prosthesis is fitted and his intensive therapy is complete. That fighting spirit, shown on the league field and following the loss of his wife is evident. He now has a personal Haka to perform, to prepare his mind, body and spirit for this new battle and there’s no doubting that Nikau will rise above this injustice with the same strong-willed determination that he has shown throughout his life. Kia Kaha Tawera.

 

[The Backpacker]

Willow (Newtown) Rd 7 – South's v Newtown

The poisoning of Bobby Lulham

The poisoning of Rugby League star Bobby Lulham in the 1950s had all the ingredients of a modern soap opera. Drugs, scandal, infidelity, passion, murder, suicide, tragedy and rat plagues… what more could you ask for?

Many people today point to crime rate figures and the recent decline on moral values as contributing factors in an ever increasing heartless world. It's interesting to note that the so-called 'Good old days' of the 1950s were indeed a different picture to what is often painted today.

With soldiers returning from war, much of Sydney was in disarray. Often suffering from untreated post-war trauma, many soldiers hadn't seen their families for years. In many cases, they were disorientated and disillusioned strangers. Housing conditions were often over-crowded and Sydney town was in a health crisis as a rat plague took over the inner-city. So bad were the rats that they soon spread into the west with homes as far out as Strathfield being affected.

The government finally decided to make available the deadly rat poison known as Thallium Sulphate. So powerful was Thallium that it killed both the rats as well as other rats that ate the poisoned corpse.

An outstanding Rugby League winger, Bobby Lulham played 87 games for Balmain between 1947-1953 scoring 85 tries and kicking 45 goals. He represented New South Wales from 1947-1949 and Australia from 1948-1949. Very fast off the mark and possessing a deceptive step off either foot, Lulham was immensely popular with supporters. In 1947, he scored a record 28 tries for Balmain and played in the winning Grand Final side of that year. A sporting hero and a household name in post-war Sydney, Bobby Lulham had the world at his feet.

But as the 1950s loomed, the community issues of the day hit the Lulham household. In 1952, Bobby experienced a sudden drop in form. No longer did he possess his amazing turn of speed and he soon became a target for opposing flankers as he seemingly forgot how to tackle. Lulham was playing so bad in one match that he simply walked off leaving his team a player short. The crowd that had once cheered his every movement was now booing as he sauntered towards the sideline. He was later taken to hospital.

What the fans didn't know was that Bobby Lulham was a victim of Thallium poisoning.

Since restrictions were lifted on its use, Thallium was doing its job containing the rat plague. But it had also become a popular drug to poison people. Thallium Sulphate was odourless, tasteless but above all, lethal. It could easily be added to food or drink. The first case came to court in 1952 and with that, the newspapers printed the symptoms of Thallium poisoning. These included lethargy, nausea and loss of hair. Following publication in the daily press, it wasn't long before others started coming forward with claims of Thallium poisoning which, by now, had become the preferred poison for women trying to rid themselves of troublesome husbands. With no real network of support for victims of domestic violence and virtually no social acceptance for disenfranchised men, Thallium soon became an easy solution to many a household problem.

Very few Rugby League supporters knew that Bobby Lulham was having problems at home. As was typical at the time, Bobby lived with his wife and her mother. Almost no one knew that he was having affair with his mother-in-law, Veronica Monty while his wife, Judy was at Sunday Mass!

But it wasn't Judy that turned on her husband. Following an anonymous tip-off, Veronica was charged with poisoning her lover and son-in-law. In the celebrity court case that followed, it was revealed that Bobby had been poisoned after drinking some of Veronica's 'Thallium tea.'

Charged with attempted murder, Veronica was eventually acquitted after she claimed that the poison was meant for herself. She testified that she couldn't live with her deception any longer and wanted to end her life. She claimed that Bobby had taken the poison 'by accident.' Despite a skeptical public, the court ruled in Veronica’s favour. But in a tragic and final twist, Veronica Monty committed suicide in 1955.

Following a number of well publicised murders, Thallium was placed back on the banned poisons list in 1954.

Bobby Lulham meanwhile made a full recovery and played one more season with Balmain in 1953. He eventually passed away in 1986.

 

[The Backpacker]

Zef (Parradogs) Rd 6 – Parradogs v Broncos

THE SAUSAGE CONSPIRACY AND TURNIP AGENDA. (PART I)

DISCLAIMER: All or some or none of the “facts” within this testimony may or may not be based upon discredited or questionable statements or documentation provided by the author or “contacts” whose credibility may or may not be trusted or whom may or may not even exist. Additionally, the author may or may not be bullsh.tting at any given time or all the time or not at all at his discretion or ignorance.

For those of us involved in the Sausage Conspiracy, the Salary Cap Scandal was not exactly unexpected, especially considering we were responsible for “The Leak” to The SMH. But just like a Shakespearian tragedy, the treachery we unleashed would eventually return to haunt us and lead destiny down a completely different path than anticipated.

My name is Zef Meister –Rebel, Sausage Conspirator and convert to the Turnip Agenda.

This is my story.

The Sausage Conspiracy was a simple plan really: Phase One was the leaking of “that document” to destabilise and discredit our enemies (The Liverpool Syndicate) within the Dogs boardroom. Phase Two would see the boardroom execution of The Syndicate and the installation of Sausage as Chairman in a puppet capacity. Phase Three would then follow - The invasion, occupation and annexation of the NSW Central Coast by the liberated Bulldogs RLFC.

Specifically targeted were North-Power Stadium, Central Coast Leagues Club (“Oasis II”), and a few thousand Junior League players (give or take). We even had sponsorship lined up with State Rail to promote the Millennium Train as the preferred mode of transport for our more “Sydney-centric” supporters.

Of course we expected our treachery could result in the expulsion of the Dogs from Season 2002 and had long prepared ourselves mentally for a sacrificed Premiership. But considering the intentions of The Liverpool Syndicate controlled boardroom, we considered this a small price to pay. So you could imagine our satisfaction as we watched the Syndicate fall as the scandal unfolded - The Hamburglar, ‘Orrible, Lionel, - all gooorrrnnne, all good.

But things soon turned foul for The Conspiracy. As the Salary Cap investigation widened, it soon became apparent that somehow Sausage had got himself implicated….And I mean really, really implicated.

My worst fears were confirmed by a panicked phone call received from Elvis - my contact from deep within the Bulldogs bunker. With five simple words Elvis shattered the conspiracy forever: “You idiot, you fried Sausage.”

Things then really turned ugly. My fellow conspirators and I found ourselves under investigation and were questioned by the “authorities” on a daily basis. I had to make some harsh decisions quickly, and so did the only thing I could do to keep some corner of The Conspiracy alive. I denied everything and ever knowing anybody, especially Elvis (last I heard he was looking at about five to ten).

By the time investigations were complete, eleven out of twelve conspirators were charged over a plethora of offences both related and unrelated to The Conspiracy and the SCS. I was the lucky one after cooperating with the authorities over some minor legal matters and names.

So anyway, I got on with life and soon forgot about Sausage and the stupid conspiracy. But then I received a mysterious phone call in the middle of the night that would change my life forever. A croaky voice whispered - “We know what you tried to do. And we want you to try again. Meet me at <CENSORED>.”

My curiosity got the better of me, I took the bait.

His name was Pierre and he didn’t talk much, just smoked. He showed me an old footy-card and croaked “Do you know this man?”

Stunned (and as a Dog supporter – insulted), I replied “Of course!”

“He wants to meet you, expect a phone call in a few days. He’ll be calling himself Turnip…. Smoke?”

At this stage, I can not reveal the identity of the legend that was on that footy card. All I can even hint at is that he is very, VERY high up the ladder of the new Bulldogs administration. (And so he should be - what a legend!)

A few days later as promised, I received a phone call from the legendary Turnip himself. He invited me to meet him in his office for a quiet chat over scones, some nice Devonshire Tea, and a game of Shuffle-Board or two.

At the turn of the second end, Turnip got down to business…..

TO BE CONTINUED.

 

[The Backpacker]

Congratulations Penelope Pittstop on having the "Craig Fitzgibbon Interview" voted by your peers as the Post of the year in the forum sevens.

Also ozzie, a hard fought second with a fantastic article.

And Big Mick, third, with his brilliant tribute to the Coogee Dolphins.

Thanks to all that wrote articles in the sevens and who voted.