Rep Match (2005): NSW Vs QLD

[roosterboy60]

[font=Times New Roman, Times, serif]New South Wales v Queensland[/font]

[font=Times New Roman, Times, serif]Game Thread
Please note - This is a game thread only, therefore only game posts can be made here (Teams, Articles).
Any other posts will result in loss of points and is at the discretion of the referee.
Only original essays, not used in previous games, will be marked by referees.[/font]

[font=Times New Roman, Times, serif]Both teams will be allowed 3 reserves in this game.
Rules: http://f7s.leagueunlimited.com/rules.asp[/font]

[font=Times New Roman, Times, serif]Full Time: Wednesday 8th June at 9pm (Syd time)[/font]

[font=Times New Roman, Times, serif]Venue: Front Row Stadium

Crowd: 28,890
REFEREE: Gorilla[/font]

[font=Times New Roman, Times, serif]**Referee Blows Game On!**[/font]

 

[Willow]

The mighty NSW Blues have arrived at the spiritual home of the F7s, the Front Row Stadium.

The NSW F7s Origin team of 2005:

Willow (c) (Bluebags)
thickos (Raiders)
Thierry Henry (Pirates)
Dilmah (Lions)
half (Pirates)
©eloquentEEL (Eels)
Goleel (Eels)

Reserves:
Davester (Eels)
Roosterboy60 (Lions)
The Colonel (Eels)

 

[Pistol]

The pride of Queensland run out onto the field ready for action


Pistol (c) (Rabbitohs)
Big Mick (vc) (Panthers)
Mzilikazi (Rhinos)
Maelgwnau (Panthers)
Broncoman (Bulls)
Azkatro (Panthers)
Nqboy (Rabbitohs)

The Bench:

Skeepe (Raiders)
DIEHARD (Bulls)
Furry Cat (Panthers)

 

[gorilla]

The referee looks around, runs to the far ends of the field, checks the corner posts and line markings, liaises with the touch judges, takes a quiet moment to judge noise and wind temperature.
Looks left, looks right, planning for a fast and open game.

 

[eloquentEEL]

eloquentEEL dons the sky blue and joins the first tackle of the match, setting the tone with a bit of niggle...
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Manly Supporters: Our Secret Garden


The Manly supporters are out in force this year, and why wouldn’t they be? Written off as wooden spoon contenders before the season started, they have come out as a surprise packet, firmly entrenched in the top 4. I was lucky enough to catch up with some of the Sea Eagle’s hardcore faithful, and this is what they’ve had to say about the rise and rise of the Silvertails in 2005: “Un-****ing-believable! They really stuck it to us in the pre-season, but we’ve shown them. Carn the Mighty Sea Eagles!!!”

Upon a friendly reminder that it hasn’t been all smooth sailing away from home, I learned about their ‘happy place’.

“It’s simple. Whenever things aren’t going too well, we just go off to our happy place: green grass; sun shining; plenty of fresh ocean air; and the clock is permanently stuck at 3pm on a Sunday afternoon. It’s our own secret garden, but there’s more and more people getting in on the secret.”

You may have even seen some of these Manly fanatics spreading their gospel at away games. They hold up their banners, reminding fellow supporters and players alike, to go to their happy place and think of their secret garden if the going gets tough.

Photo: The Brooky Brigade holding aloft directions to their secret garden.​

If you see this sign at a game, I can recommend going up and saying g’day to these friendly, approachable folk. They may even teach you their theme song:

When I find myself in times of trouble,​

Father Fatty comes to me,​

Speaking words of wisdom,​

Pretend you’re at Broo-kie​

There is actually a plan in the works to record this little tune and pay to have it broadcast at away matches. It will require some big dollars though, as it is the home teams that have control over the PA systems. That’s why the Boys from Brookvale are on a mission to raise some funds. They plan on doing it through the sale of dolls baring remarkable likenesses to Manly players.

The Scott Donald Speed Demon – This carrot topped action figure has wind up legs. Early prototype testing suggests that it could break the toy figurine speed barrier before the final product is released to the market.

The Talking Terry ‘Tezza’ Hill – The Tezza comes dressed in authentic poorly-fitting unfashionable clothing and with the pull of a drawstring it will lisp enthusiastically “That’sh Lowezsh”. The team is working on a new pricing model for the toy, where you only pay for the time you spend playing with it. Unfortunately, development is hampered by a defect causing the string to snap regularly, with the doll breaking down and requiring several weeks without play each time.

The Kite & Kennedy Twin Pack – Only offered in a twin pack, the Kite & Kennedy dolls come as a special collector’s edition with a hugely inflated price tag. Underneath the Manly shorts, both plastic backsides are branded “Made in Canberra” and the developers can’t manage to get rid of the marking, no matter how hard they scrub.

The Michael Half Witt – Packed with features, Mick comes with a brilliant mechanical kicking action. He is somewhat shy though, and has a tendency to get himself lost (often during playtime, after around 20 minutes). This known defect has led to the installation of a “key finder” style device, which will help you find the lost Half Witt by whistling.

The Shayne Dunley – This novelty item makes a wonderful practical joke. Just your victim “you have to squeeze it to make it talk, but it’s pretty quiet so you have to get it close to you ear”. The Dunley doesn’t actually talk. It squirts any liquid of your choice. With the incorporation of this mini water feature, the design team is having trouble building in a swivel-neck, so we may just have to make do with the straight-shooting model which has recently been approved by industry regulators.

Thankfully for all concerned (except perhaps the legal profession), the organisers have scrapped plans for the Hoppa doll.

Best of luck to the Manly Mob with their endeavours, and if you see someone in a Sea Eagles jumper sporting a dazed look and a broad grin (and you’ve confirmed it’s not Anthony Watmough), you’ll know exactly where their thoughts have taken them, but shhh… it’s a secret.
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731 words

References:
‘Happy place’ is a term taken from the Adam Sandler movie, Happy Gilmore.
Brooky Brigade theme song lyrics and melody based on The Beatles’ Let It Be.
Photo courtesy of CliffyIsGod.

 

[thickos]

thickos kisses the NSW emblem on his chest as he runs out onto the hallowed turf. The Raiders don't get many rep players these days, at any level, so he knows the boys and girls are cheering hard back home. No cheap shots in the opening exchanges here, that's left to the canetoads.

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Toots

Being a Raiders fan for 17 years, I reckon I’ve seen about 100 players debut for the club. Some debuts were spectacular – Mark McLinden’s slashing performance against Manly in comes to mind. Some were less impressive and some you wish never happened at all (Jason Bulgarelli for example). Just like life itself, faces come and go, and the next generation replaces them.

The one exception, however, is Jason ‘Toots’ Croker.

While Toots made his debut in 1991, I honestly can’t remember it. The memory of my younger years is too hazy these days – too many brain cells have been destroyed by good ol’ alcohol. So for myself and many others, it feels like he’s been part of the team forever – a constant, reassuring figure in the line-up. I think of him as the Raiders’ “Rosetta Stone” – the last link to a prior, glorious age and the only means for the current crop to save themselves from a future of mediocrity. Toots did his apprenticeship amongst some of the greatest footballers of a generation – Meninga, Daley, Stuart, Clyde, Walters – and now he stands alone as the last link to a champion team.

Toots hails originally from Crookwell, about an hour out of the ACT. After finishing his time with the local Green Devils, he made the move down to the Raiders to play in the lower grades, with the careful eye of Tim Sheens always watching. So impressive were his performances for the Raiders that Toots holds a unique record of being part of three grand final teams in the one season –premiership medals with the Presidents’ Cup and Reserve Grade teams in 1990 and acting as an emergency for the first grade team in their triumph. While he didn’t get on the field that day, his first grade debut came the following season against the Broncos in Round 3 – and he has lined up for the team a further 283 times since.

It’s a record that is likely to stand the test of time. Despite all of the great names who have played for Canberra, the future immortals who have indelibly stamped their mark on the game, it is fitting that our humble lock from Crookwell sits at the top of the heap. On top of that there is another pretty handy statistic – he’s also scored the most tries ever, no mean feat considering the team-mates around him. His critics may say he also leads the way for most silly pushed passes, and recently his hands have been letting him down. But while the legs don’t pump as quickly as they used to, Toots makes up for it in heart. He instils confidence in the players he has around him. He is stinging in defence and sharp in attack. He contributes for the eighty minutes.

If you had to put a photograph next to the word ‘versatility,’ you’d choose a picture of Toots (or maybe a Swiss Army knife, those things are pretty versatile too). From a try-scoring centre through to lock, second row and more recently five-eighth, Toots is the man to plug any vacancy in the team. This trait hasn’t gone un-noticed with selectors, rewarding him with five Origin jerseys and a trip to the 2000 World Cup. His omission from the 1994 Kangaroo tour however was the biggest selection mistake since Eve chose the apple; clear evidence again that Canberra players don’t get rep jerseys (ignoring the fact that seven of his team-mates made the squad). Many will say that Toots should have had a longer and more illustrious rep career; however being the humble man that he is I’m sure he is very satisfied at winning a premiership (1994) as well as representing his state and country. It is a footballing résumé that is right up there.

Of course, there will be a day when Toots ends his career. I for one would love to see him play on as long as he wants, even if he is defending out on the wing in his wheelchair (which would still make him more effective than Brad Drew). And it will be a sad time when he leaves, as the last link of a champion team will be gone – and what the future holds is a lot less certain.

There’ll never be a Toots Grandstand, or a Toots Statue, but all Raiders fans appreciate his contribution to the team. As a local legend, the man we call Toots is without peer.


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745 words.

 

[Pistol]

The mighty Cane Toads make a substitution. Maelgwnau comes off and is replaced by the ever present Skeepe.

 

[Mzilikazi]

Mzilikazi hears the "cattledog" call from the opposition and swats away a harmless punch from his opposite. Plays the whistle and steams upfield for the mighty Maroons.

Postcards from Queensland:

They say a picture tells a thousand words. Why then am I so mad as to try and describe the passion held for State of Origin by the Queenslander in 750 words or less?

I’m sure the love of team is the same for the Blues supporter, but I can’t relate to it. So here are some snapshots from my memory bank as my attempt to explain the mystique of the “Queenslander”.

First impressions:

Approaching Goondiwindi from the south it’s a long dusty drive on the Newell Highway. Flat, barren, ochre stained plains stretch far in every direction and balls of cotton line the road like snow.

The border is crossed and the motorist gets that first opportunity of discount Queensland fuel. Two things strike you as you make your way to the cashier. The warmth of the welcome and the plethora of Queensland paraphernalia stacked on the shelves. Balloons, key rings, shirts and banners form a sea of maroon, interrupted by a tiny speck of sky blue stashed in the corner.

Welcome to the state of fanaticism.

A tale of two pubs:

Babinda. The warm sea breeze wafts over the freshly ploughed chocolate fields that will soon be planted to cane. XXXX signs flicker and glare onto the highway. Cane toads feast on the insects attracted to the light.

Inside the locals stand as one and barrack for the boys in maroon, a raucous cheer reserved for the ‘locals’ – Slater and Williams.

Wallerawang. The ice is already forming on the eaves. The smoke from power stations erupts nearby, sending a steady film of grit and charcoal into the air.

Inside the fire roars in the hearth as the coal miners discuss the coming game. Half pledge their support for the maroon underdogs because they’ve used the TAB facility to back them

You don’t support the opposition in Queensland, regardless of the circumstances.

An Empty Road:

Wednesday night, 8:30pm. Molar throbs as I drive down Townsville’s Ross River Road, a dreaded appointment with the dentist pending.

Nothings moves. No cars on the road. Windows flicker in strange unison to the light of the television. The Origin game is on. What else would one be doing?

Armageddon could happen here and no-one would know it. They’ll deal with it in the morning, providing their head isn’t too sore.

The Rapture:

It’s 1989 and a large group of university students congregate in the lounge room in Thuringowa. They huddle in their blankets as the night is ‘cold’. It will be getting below 15 degrees!

The battle on the screen is fierce. Vautin succumbs and then the crack in Langer’s leg is heard around the State. Two more heroes vanish as the punishment takes its toll. Bob Lindner’s leg also breaks but he hobbles on. The trench must be manned; the blue tide must be turned.

And then it happens – the definitive Origin moment for the Queenslander. NSW are working the ball out from their half when it is spilled. It’s shovelled to THAT man - Wally Lewis. He is forty metres from the Blues’ line, left side of the field.

The next play is etched in every Queenslanders’ memory. The King crabs slowly (it seems) right. He pushes through tackles, he fends and he shimmies. It takes only seconds yet it’s a transcendent moment, one that will forever stand isolated from time. Wally Lewis crashes over in the clutches of Jack to put the game beyond doubt.

The room erupts in orgiastic excitement. Tears well in the eyes and throats roar at the spectacle. This is the thing of the boyhood dream. It is why men fight wars and hunt other creatures.

Just thirteen men with their backs to the wall. Hanging in there for each other and doing it for their State.

Unlikely victory snatched by a moment of sheer genius, anticipation and brutal effort. Delivered by that hero of all heroes. Is it any wonder that we’re so addicted?

As one we link arms. Facing the TV, excited commentators blathering, we sink to our knees and prostrate ourselves. Like a Muslim horde facing Mecca and praying, we face the grinning visage on the screen and chant as one “Wally, Wally, Wally”.

“Queenslander”

Billy Moore stalks down the tunnel. Eyes blazing he roars “Queenslander”. Flecks of spittle hit the camera. Ten years later it still creates goose bumps.

Who am I to follow such a wonderful tradition, no matter how small the part to play?


QUEENSLANDER!!!


748 words

 

[broncoman]

broncoman runs on for his Origin debut for the Maroons!

The Ideal Schedule

Everyone involved in rugby league, whether you are a fan, a player or an administrator, will probably have a problem with the current schedule. Fans want a pre-season competition, more representative games as well as seeing their team in as many matches as possible. Players want fewer games and a longer off season and the people who run the game just want to make everyone happy. My proposition would make everyone happy and certainly could be looked at.

The Pre Season

The NRL should institute a pre-season competition similar in structure to that of the AFL. Once the competition has been expanded to 16 teams it makes for a simple four-round competition with the winners of each game progressing through the rounds. The two best sides would eventually meet in the final. I'd personally like to see it run in a similar way as to how it was in the early nineties where the matches were held in regional areas, with perhaps some double headers at the bigger centres such as Albury or Lismore. It would be great for the game to see thousands of fans turn up in the pre-season in a place like Lismore to see two big matches in the one evening, this is the best way to promote the game in the places where the game is apparently dying.

The Season

Twenty-two rounds is the ideal number. As it is, the teams don’t play each other home and away, so that argument cannot be used by the NRL. The stars of the game certainly wouldn't be over-burdened, since they might only play one or two pre-season games. With the future addition of the Gold Coast or Central Coast, this would create be a sixteen team competition and eliminate the need for byes. The fans would prefer this option as they get to see their team play every week and the easy points for not playing would disappear. Playing less rounds also takes a month or the duration of the season, so we then have the option of starting two weeks later and finishing two weeks earlier, or modifying the season timetable in some other way.

The Rep Season

This remains the hardest juggling act for the organisers of the game. State of Origin has been tried on every day of the week, City vs. Country has come and gone and test football has been played occasionally mid season. So how is this going to change? The ANZAC test has to go. It just doesn’t belong there, under my plan the season starts two weeks later, meaning the test match would be played in around week four. My aim would be the City vs. Country match would be played on the Friday night of Round 7 with State of Origin played as it is now in its mid week timeslot, with players being unavailable for their club sides for the round before the games.

The one off test match, against either New Zealand or Great Britain, should then be played two or three weeks after State of Origin has finished, most likely on the Friday night so players can then back up for their club teams. The Tri Series should then be played every two years alternating between the Northern and Southern Hemispheres, which leaves players only travelling to the old dart once every four years, as they used to do in the era of Kangaroo Tours.

The Finals

I like the current McIntyre Top Eight system and see no reason to change it. It gives every team a chance to win the competition no matter where they finish and it keeps fans of most teams interested until the very end of the season.

The History

Over the years we have seen many different systems tried, from the early nineties we saw twenty-two rounds, with split rounds during Origin. We eventually moved onto having a similar system where Origin had its own weekend. By the time we got to the turn of the century we had as many as twenty teams. As far as scheduling goes this wasn’t a problem, except it was just too many teams, degrading the quality of the matches. Origin was played mid week; meaning players missed the club game the weekend before the game. We now get to a situation where we are going in circles. I say we get it right and stick to it.
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736 words including title

 

[Pistol]

Queensland make a substitution. Big Mick comes off. On comes DIEHARD for a run.

 

[Willow]

Willow makes his way onto the hallowed turf of the Front Row Stadium and takes the next hit-up.
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My last game of football

The last 24 hours have been hell...

It started with a hangover, a complete shock to the system. Clambering out of bed, I shuffled across the cold lino, stumbling over empty beer bottles, pizza cartons and a motionless human body in the hallway. I checked for a pulse and then wandered into the kitchen. The fridge door had been left open, forming a small pond amidst the rubbish and stench that had become my way of life.

One of the neighbours emerged from the bathroom. Bleary eyed, unshaven and sporting the worst Mohawk I’ve ever seen, he zipped up his fly and said, “You look like crap.”

I then remembered the night before…. “oh sh*t… the car!” It took me a full 15 minutes to remember where I left it. Through the throbbing, I vaguely recalled parking a panel van on Gilligan’s Island, in the middle of Taylor Square! Still ringing in my ears were blaring horns and the words, "ya f**ken imbecile!"

I packed my football gear into my brand new TAA airways bag and meandered up Bourke Street. My car was where I left it, sadly ‘marooned’ in the middle of one of Sydney’s busiest intersections. After being verbally abused by one of the island residents, I removed the parking ticket, negotiated the gutter, and literally hit the road.

I smelt like the Tempe Tip so I decided to head east and hit the Coogee surf. That cleared a few cobwebs but I still didn’t feel right in the head. Nevertheless, it was a moment of clarity in an otherwise miserable day.

Feeling slightly refreshed, I scoffed down a meat pie and made tracks westwards where I was due to take part in the annual Miller v Five Dock League match.

Now this was a football game steeped in tradition, several years in fact. Players from the outer-west would meet their inner-west cousins and belt the living crap out of each other. Originally, it was run by school teachers but it evolved into a get-together with high school mates trying to keep the tradition alive.

Five minutes into the game I took the ball at pace. That’s right, I nominated myself to meet the defence head on… I told you I wasn’t feeling right in the head. To my horror, I was the recipient of the first high shot of the game.

With double vision, slight concussion and a zinging cheek bone, I got up and played the ball. More anguish and pain followed. For some inexplicable reason, the dummy at dummy half ran forward and passed the ball back inside to me. This time I stayed down for a minute. I decided this was for the best and would give my teams mates a breather… or perhaps it was to give them a chance to think things over and find a more intelligent option than passing the ball to me.

After that I was allowed to bludge for most of the first half. But just before half time, we packed down on our opponent’s 25 yard line. The ball came out our way but was left behind by our dopey half back. I summed the situation and won the race for the ball. This must have really pissed off the bloke who came second because he promptly decided to do a spot of knee stomping. As was the fashion at the time, I got up and thumped him. All was going to plan until he decided to hit back. Being built like brick sh*thouse, he made sure his introduction wouldn’t pass without notice.

In a final humiliation, the referee sent me from the field. I thought this was a bit harsh but given the day I was having, it was almost an act of mercy.

Five Dock went on to win the match, convincingly. We then met at the local where it was my shout, repeatedly.

A spent force, I headed back to Darlinghurst and to French’s Tavern. A girl walked up to me and said, “God… what happened to your face!? You look awful!”

This is what it was like to be a westie living in the city, stuck between cultures and not a football supporter in sight.

I resigned myself to the evening, drinking cheap cider and popping panadeines. Any hope that the day would end painlessly were soon dashed when the band broke into a thrash version of ‘Those Were the Days’ - and the singer was off-key.

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749 words

 

[nqboy]

State of Origin football has provided so many wonderful contests, moments and memories over its first 25 years and with the recent decision to include the Gold Coast as the NRL’s 16th team, it’s likely that trend will continue as more youngsters eligible for Queensland make their way into the NRL.

Everyone knows the most prominent moments but most of us would also have personal memories of incidents that most everyone else would have missed.

For all the great players that have played for both sides over the years, I was always mindful of the supporting acts, the lesser players who often played out of their skins, particularly for Qld. Rohan Hancock was an early example and one of the last of the genuine bushies who played the game at this level. He was very rough and ready, no polish on this lad, but tough as teak and didn’t he give it to the pampered stars of the early Blues sides? He didn’t give a fig for reputations and played his way into an Australian jersey that, based on his talent, he had no right to expect.

Colin Scott cut down a run-away Eric Grothe with a wonderful covering tackle just short of the corner flag before Brad Backer slid in to assist and actually pushed Grothe over the line. Or Ross Henrick, The Ant, with shoulder pads bigger than the rest of him, except perhaps his heart, taking it to the all-time great halfbacks he opposed, like Sterling and Mortimer.

And Wally Fullerton-Smith – when he was selected, most Qlders reaction was “Wally who?” but the selectors knew what they were doing and he went on to stun the Blues with his stinging defence. I remember FS desperately hurdling fallen players on the tryline to make a tackle on a try-bound Blue he had no right to make, only for Colin Scott to come over the top at the death and receive all the credit from the commentators for the try-saving hit. If FS hadn’t made the effort he did, it wouldn’t have mattered what Scott did. My mate and I watched countless replays of the tape and laughed every time Scott was credited with the hit. We still laugh about it today.

And Brad Tessman, has there ever been a less co-ordinated and less talented player pull on his state colours? He played for Australia too, on the back of his inspired displays for Qld.

I was there in 1986 for the debut of Les Kiss, the Bundy Bullet. A budding champion cruelled by injury, the memories of his incisive running and football smarts remain with me to this day.

Another time, I was on the hill at Lang Park. Qld were copping a hiding and to make things worse, it started to rain. One despairing punter called out, “Wally, stop the rain!” and, lo and behold, he did. Couldn’t win the game that night but we still went home with a story.

Another memory was Paul Hauff at fullback shadowing Greg Alexander on an angled run to the corner post. It didn’t show up at all when I watched the TV replay later but from high up in the Ron McAuliffe Stand, I saw the mercurial Brandy throw a million tricky steps, shuffles and shimmies at Hauff, in a run that would have left most defenders sprawled on the turf after tripping over their own feet and grasping at air. It did him no good that night though, Hauff, at the zenith of a brilliant patch of form before his decline into footballing oblivion, covered them all with consummate ease and threw him into touch. Footballing genius from both players, but you had to be there to see it.

Or the glorious night in 2001 when two young Cowboys, John Buttegieg and John Doyle, and one future one in Carl Webb, all scored on debut to set up a thumping Qld win. Two of those three were hardly seen again at this level, but they’d written their own piece of Origin history, something we mere mortals can only dream about.

No doubt, you cockroach fans have some precious memories too. Duplicating Qld’s spirit and passion during Goose Gould’s reign, geez, we laughed about that at the time. We were down and short on hope but in the words of a legendary Qld bard

“Beware the wounded Queenslander as he battles for the crown,
Never write him off and he will never let you down.”

 

[Manu Vatuvei]

Thierry Henry- NSW

The Te Atatu Roosters: 50 years of history leads to…….what?

Queens Birthday Weekend 2005 marked the 50th anniversary of well known West Auckland rugby league club the Te Atatu Roosters. The anniversary featured a veritable cavalcade of ex Kiwi, Auckland, and NZ Maori representatives. Aside from renewing old friendships, the reunion was eagerly awaited for the naming of an all-time Roosters XIII. Considering the wealth of talent the famous club has had over the years, a place in the team was regarded as an extremely prestigious honour, and certainly led to a great deal of vigorous debate around many West Auckland living rooms and water coolers.

The team picked was:

1. John Wilson

2. Ces Sione

3. Lester Mills

4. Dennis Williams

5. Mark Elia

6. Henry Paul

7. John Smith

8. Mike Smith

9. Fred Robards

10. Peter Brown

11. Mark Horo

12. Taime Tagaloa

13. Ron O’ Regan

The strength of the club’s heritage is underlined by the players who missed out on selection, including Kiwi internationals Robbie Paul, Sam Panapa, Shane Horo, Iva Ropati, and Dean Orr, and Sky TV analyst Peter Ropati. Nine of the thirteen selected were Kiwi reps.

This may all seem like a load of pleasantly banal waffle. Unfortunately, within this self-serving ramble lies a disturbing truth about New Zealand rugby league. Unless something changes drastically, Te Atatu will never again have the services of an NRL reserve grader, let alone a top class international. With the exception of Henry Paul, all of the internationals in the all-time team were still playing for Te Atatu near the peak of their powers, and these players haven’t been pulled out of the dark ages- Elia, Brown, the Horo brothers, O’Regan, Panapa, and Orr all played during Te Atatu’s golden era in the mid-late 80s.

It is truly remarkable to consider that genuinely international class players were turning out for Kiwi club sides as recently as the start of the 1990s, for the same teams that are now mere feeder clubs to the Bartercard Cup. Club rugby league, particularly in Auckland, was up until surprisingly recently the premier week-in week-out competition available to Kiwi fans and players. While a smattering of top players took up the challenge and went to Australia or the UK, playing for a local club was never an impediment to playing at the highest level.

The decline of traditional club strongholds is an issue effecting many sports. The effects on New Zealand rugby union, which endured an abrupt shift from amateurism to full professionalism in the mid-90s, are well documented. Rugby league, however, has long been professional, so the marked downturn in the fortunes of local competitions cannot be easily explained away. The advent of the Warriors might pass as an adequate explanation if it had led to an improvement in the fortunes of the national side, but there has been no great improvement on the halcyon days of 1983, ’85 and ’87, when teams of largely NZ-based Kiwis toppled the Kangaroos.

Put simply, the current desolation of the domestic game is not off-set by any great improvements at the top level. The Warriors are undoubtedly the highest profile Kiwi league club ever, but are still usually relegated to the latter part of the sports news bulletin. New Zealand league has gone from the thriving domestic competition and competitive Kiwi sides of the mid-late 80s, to a core of 20 or so high profile Warriors players, and a domestic structure that works primarily as a feeder to the NRL and ESL.

I could probably round this piece off by aiming an attack at the vague entity that is “the administration”, but that would be unfair. The highpoint that Kiwi league hit in the 80s directly led to an increased interest in Kiwi players from Australian and British clubs. Kiwi clubs couldn’t compete with the money being offered, which led to the influx of New Zealanders into the Winfield Cup in the early 90s, and so on. Nevertheless, even if I can’t find anyone in particular to blame, I think the general situation is worth lamenting.

On the same weekend that former international stars were reliving past glories at the Te Atatu clubrooms, the Roosters enjoyed a 34-10 victory over Mangere East. It’s unlikely that any of the players went to sleep that night dreaming about playing out a glorious career with the Roosters. In this day and age, glory and New Zealand club rugby league are mutually exclusive concepts.

747 words

 

[Pistol]

Pistol with the number 7 on his back, takes a run for his beloved Queensland.

Tough Going

The chips are down. Backs are to the wall. Blood is being spilt. Rules and bones are being broken. Legs are like cement blocks. The gas tank is down to the last droplet. OHHHHHHHHHH YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH. (Insert Tim “The Tool-man” Taylor grunt here. Well, we are talking about Origin, so insert 5 grunts.) I can’t imagine watching a better scenario for any side. Nothing beats it. ​

Queensland are renowned for their gritty determination and willingness to triumph over the face of adversity. For many years, the brave soldiers who toiled the grounds of Lang Park, the S.C.G, the Sydney Football Stadium, Telstra Stadium and A.N.Z Stadium (a brief stint), have had to look deep inside themselves to snatch victory from the jagged jaws of defeat.



The first instance is the 1982 series, the first to be decided over 3 matches. New South Wales had lost the two previous matches. They went into the match lead by Max Krilich and a bolter. They selected Penrith’s sensation Brad “The Wizard” Izzard after only a half dozen matches in the top grade. The ploy worked with The Blues prevailing 20-16, with Izzard scoring a try after coming off the bench. Queensland were 1-0 down. Gene Miles comes in for Mitch Brennan in the centres and Rod Morris for Paul Vautin. The move proved to be a masterstroke as Queensland edged out the opposition 11-7, with Miles scoring a try and providing starch in defence and Morris earning man of the match honours. But the job wasn’t done. The Queenslanders had to go to game three to win it. Armed with a sense of purpose and the return of Big Mal, they got up in game three by 10-5, not only winning the first best of three but by coming from 1-0 down to do it. HOO-HA (An Al Pacino-esque chant from “Scent of a Woman”.)



But wait right there. As Tim Shaw from Demtel says, “I know you want more.” And by the grace of my good heart, you are going to get more. If its broken bones, bruised flesh and weary legs you want, then do not go past game two in 1989. This game here personified the Origin spirit for Queensland. At half time the Maroons dressing room resembled a casualty ward. Allan Langer was replaced after 18 minutes with a fractured ankle; Mal Meninga left the field in the 29th minute with a fractured eye socket; Fatty Vautin was unable to take the field in the second half after having an elbow hyperextension and Mick Hancock was replaced after 57 minutes with a shoulder injury. Not bad enough? Well Bobby Lindner was carried off with 5 minutes to go after hobbling around for a few minutes on a broken leg. WHAT’CHA GONNA DO? Those are the words of the immortal Hulk Hogan. Queensland rallied. They fought. NSW were desperate. Queensland were down to 12 men but guts and the enamel of their teeth got them home to wrap up the ’89 series after The Blues brought back the master coach, Jack Gibson.



But if its drama, edge of your seat, fist nibbling, gut wrenching tension you want, then as Michael Buffer says before big boxing matches, “LLLLLLLET’S GET READY TO RUMBLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLE”. It’s Game 1, 1994 at the SFS. Brad Mackay scores under the sticks, seemingly putting the game into the Blues grasp. But the mighty Maroons didn’t lie down. They mustered up all their courage, fought their way downfield, avoiding tackles and passed the ball to Mark Coyne who got inside three defenders and planted the ball over the line to take victory for the Maroons.



And if that’s not enough for you, stick your plate out, because here comes another helping of Origin succulence to appease your burdening appetite. The 2002 series was level after two games thanks to the best TBA in history, Lote Tuqiri. The grandstand finish was set. Game three was arduous with Queensland leading with 5 minutes to go when NSW scored to lead 18-14. The game was nearly over but with a little help from “Alfie”, big Dane Carlaw broke away and scored after a 50 metre sprint to level the game, 18 all. The trophy stayed with Queensland. It personified guts. It personified determination. It immortalised QUEENSLAND.



I believe it was Brian Kennedy, the famous Irish singer/songwriter, who sang, “You raise me up so I can stand on mountains...”. What a feeling. What a resounding chapter in the annals of Origin folklore.



750 words including the title

_________________________________________________________​

​

Contrary to popular opinion, it was Brian Kennedy, not Josh Groban who made "You Raise Me Up" famous. Kennedy is famous throughout the world for his unique voice and brilliant songwriting skills.

Statistics taken from the Game One Origin handbook of 2005.

 

[Azkatro]

Azkatro posting for the Maroons.

---------------------------------------------

The numbers game

It's time the boffins stopped messing around and started providing us with real statistics on rugby league matches.

I don't care if Brett Kimmorley missed 9 tackles in the first State of Origin game, or that he kicked the ball 15 times. That doesn't give me a real indication of what he did on the field.

It's been suggested that Brett Kimmorley asked his teammates who wanted to take the conversion after Mark Gasnier's try. NSW's first-choice goalkicker was off the field at the time, and Kimmorley was the logical choice to take it in his place.

It's the kind of moment that a player probably wishes they could erase. One of those bad days at the office. The kind of thing that has an effect on the match which can't be recorded with statistics.

Nonetheless, I've come up with a few that might make some inroads into properly recording these types of events:

Most times played the ball the wrong way in State of Origin

1 Martin Bella (QLD)

Most line dropouts kicked over own dead ball line

1 Michael Witt (Parramatta)

Most times dropped the ball over the line by a 5/8 in attempting to score (St. George/Illawarra)

1 Anthony Mundine
1 Trent Barrett

Most in-goal passes resulting in an opposition try in State of Origin

2 Justin Hodges (QLD)
1 Phil Duke (NSW)

Obviously, tidbits such as these are never likely to be kept. But as the amount of information recorded increases, what kind of obscure numbers are on the horizon?

We see a lot of statistics compiled in NRL matches in this modern age. Countless dedicated individuals analyse every game. If a player picks up the ball from dummy half, goes for a scoot up the middle and gets tackled, several things are recorded:

• Player’s dummy half runs tally is increased
• Number of metres he earned is added to his and his team’s total
• Players who were involved in tackling him have their tackle counts adjusted accordingly
• If a player fell off the tackle, he might have his missed tackle count increased
• Player’s hitup tally is increased

The majority of matches will provide upwards of 600 events like this. Every little bit is logged and double checked on the game video, and often media or teams themselves will request various aspects of the data for their own scrutiny.

Even with so much information recorded, more goodies are being trialled and added. We’re starting to see details like effective and ineffective tackles, whether kicks have found open space or not, how much possession each team had in a certain period of the game, tries scored from kicks, and no doubt many more.

Regardless of the plethora of information on offer, one could never hope to truly encapsulate the performance of players with statistical evidence alone.

Just look at Wally Lewis’ magic solo try in 1989 Origin, game two. The numbers would have told you that NSW lost possession and did not complete their set of six. Chris Mortimer would have had a missed tackle added with Lewis earning a line break and of course, a try.

What they couldn't tell you is that it was a jolting Trevor Gillmeister tackle that won Queensland the ball in dangerous field position. That the game was in the balance at 12-all, Queensland only had 12 fit men on the field and that their backs were to the wall. Or even how impressive the line break was, created with brilliant deception and a turn of pace as opposed to running off a pass.

It’s unreasonable to record this level of information purely with the use of numbers. Imagine watching the game through the eyes of a statistician; while you could admire a workhorse like Craig Fitzgibbon’s with his tackle counts and hitup gains, someone else like Jason Smith with his influence on a game and his teammates would go largely unnoticed.

A superb 60m kick downfield by Ricky Stuart, which consequently forced the opposition to work it out from their own twenty, would be the equivalent of Paul Carige's brain explosion in Parramatta's 1998 final against the Bulldogs near full time.

I sincerely hope that fans and critics of the game don't continue to get swept up in the play-by-numbers phenomenon.

When I'm at home on a Friday night, getting comfortable with a beer in hand, the last thing I'm interested in doing is a spot of accounting.


---------------------------------------------

Sources: Daily Telegraph, NRL Stats

747 words between the lines. Liftoff!

 

[skeepe]

skeepe dons the famous Maroon jumper

A Roaring Success

The roar of the crowd. Such an oft used expression. The ROAR of the crowd. Why not the scream of the crowd? The groan? No, perhaps not. Nothing quite typifies the noise of a crowd like the word roar. When I hear that word, I think passion. Commitment. Excitement. Terror. Most importantly, I think rugby league. Rugby league is full of roars, be they the cheers of ecstasy from that fantastic try, to the boos of hatred to that guy with the whistle who dared penalise the home team.

But, like anything, the roar needs a closer analysis. Who exactly coined the term roar? Why? And who is behind those voices that make up the roar? All interesting questions. All deserve an answer.

To better understand the roar, we need to go back to the first documented usage of the term, by a young man who goes by the name Graham Grapplewick. Young Graham was born in Rooty Hill in early 1909. A strong follower of league, Graham sadly has an unfortunate history when it comes to the clubs that he chose to support. After supporting the Annandale club until their demise, he became a strong follower of Glebe. It was in early 1926, during Glebe’s famous 14-10 win over Souths in front of 19,000 at the SCG that young Graham was overheard to remark about what a tremendous roar he heard from the crowd. Unconfirmed reports say that this description took off like wildfire, to the extent that the NSWRL in fact decided to use it in their advertising campaigns. And so, a legend was born.

Perhaps the most interesting question of all is who makes up the voices behind the roar? Many have pondered this question in the past, but none have come up with a definitive answer. Until now, that is. See, those behind the roar come from a diverse group. First of all, there are the supporters, who just like young Graham, love nothing better than to see their team do well. These people are an absolute credit to their club, the stalwarts that make league a game to enjoy. You know it when they are around you, you can smell the crispness in the air.

Then there are those who are known around the traps as the venomous vipers. Those who will sit there doing nothing but bag out the players, the referee, the old lady with her knitting needles, everyone but themselves, for they can see the ineptness in everything, and celebrate nothing. They are truly a culture to be despised. These people lack courage, vigour, and most of all starch. Yet they make up an important part of the roar. When things are going badly and the supportive roarers are quiet, the vipers are there. They keep the ball rolling, ready to pass the baton to the supportive roarers when their time comes. Yes, despise them, but do not discount their importance.

There is one more group, equally as important. On certain occasions, the supportive roarers can find nothing to cheer about, and the venomous vipers have nothing to hiss about. This is where the dull roarers come in. These people are neither loved nor despised. They are the ones who are constantly making noise, be it supportive or venomous or somewhere in between. Whenever there appears to be a lull in the roar, the dull roarers will be there as the background noise. You may not notice them now, but you surely would if they were not there.

It is true in life that many things change over time. The make-up of the roar is one of those rare occasions where this is not true. It has always been home to the three key roar groups. Sure, people and yes even clubs have come and gone, but the roar remains the same. In fact, things are looking fantastic for the roar. Crowds are certainly a lot higher in the modern game, and this means that each roar group is growing in numbers. Good times ahead.

So remember, next time you go to a game of rugby league, that the noise you hear is not just noise, it is a carefully orchestrated roar, with three separate parties all playing their role. Think about which group you are in, and do your best, because without the roar, the game may as well be played in a library. Go the Maroons.

739 words including title.

 

[Goleel]

Gol bursts out onto the field for New South Wales, fire in his eyes and confident of unleashing hell as, after all, 'you can't be sent off in Origin'.

---

Under the Influence?

Rugby league's origins are unashamedly in stealing the best ideas from other sports to create something bigger, better and far more entertaining. The evolution tree saw rugby invented when one man took the soccer ball and decided it would be more fun to run around carrying it, but he didn't go far enough. Rugby league was thus born from a need to actually throw the ball around, rather than simply boot it downfield or ruck it up the middle of the park. In later years we have taken ideas from many sports, but I think it is time we fully embrace the loving arms, legs and shoulder pads of American football, just look at what it could do for our game!

Firstly, we must shorten our rugby league season. An extended off season will give our players plenty of time to get themselves into trouble with the law, being arrested for possession, domestic assault or armed robbery. This also gives our underpaid players a lot more opportunity to hold out of pre season training camps to demand higher salaries or to be traded to a winning team with a better climate and bigger casino.

Then we could undertake the NFL's other favourite pastime besides football, expansion. With concerted effort, we could force NRL teams to 'donate' premier league quality players to a new franchise, for them to sign should they so desire. That way every new franchise can be filled with unwanted troublemakers, past their prime oldies paid far more than they are worth, and never will be's that have been given one shot too many. With a little effort we could soon expand the NRL to the 32 teams the NFL currently has, I estimate an 8 year timeframe from 2007, adding two teams a year, firstly stretching the NRL's boundaries to Adelaide, Perth and Hobart plus adding two more Melbourne sides and two on the Central Coast, then using this solid base to expand into league heartlands Dungog, Daydream Island and Darwin.

With a shorter season and many more sides now competing, the NRL must be divided into conferences, with ridiculous mathematical formulae used to decide exactly who you must now play in this shortened season. Then if Parramatta can win their division over the elite South Sydney, Hobart and Dungog sides, they could then go into a random draw for a chance to possibly consider playing a divisional final should their mascot be able to calculate Pi to seventy decimal places with only an abacus to assist them, before sundown on the first day which also happens to match the birth date of a player from the 1909 Cumberland side.

But with my tongue now dislodged from my cheek, the NFL could have a positive influence on the NRL. A shorter season, such as one that sees each team play every other only once, would leave players fresher, increase the quality and intensity of the game, and would allow plenty of time in the schedule for international matches, separate weeks for State of Origin, and a possible revival of the World Club Challenge competition against the English Super League sides.

Combine this shorter season with stricter finals qualifications. In the NFL, only 12 of 32 teams make the finals, or 37.5%. This is certainly a better option than out 8 of 15, or 53%, making post season play. With a 5 or 6 team finals series, and fewer games throughout the year, every game would be played at a top level intensity. Crowds would grow, as there are fewer opportunities to see the game, and each game would become a bigger spectacle.

While there are many aspects of NFL I wouldn’t want to see rugby league adopt, the complicated salary cap, extensive trades, free agent markets and of course, all the ego and off field drama many of the players are involved in, rugby league could do well to follow their example. In a time where all other major sports are in slight decline in the United States, the NFL continues to increase attendance figures and television viewers. The professional approach they take, and their absolute authority over the NFL franchises, I believe is what makes them so successful as a governing body. With rugby league experiencing a boom after a long period of uncertainty, it would be wise for the NRL’s top management to take a closer look at how the NFL keeps their competition running so smoothly despite it’s massive size.

--

749 I would think

 

[half]

half | New South Wales

Desperate Housewives

I sat alone on the couch rugged up in a quilt, quite comfortable – at least with the temperature. Stagnant and forlorn, I gazed at the walls. I was pretty much bored. Not complacent with my dire state, I reached for the TV remote and flicked through the channels, desperate to find something that would tickle my fancy, desperate to drive the boredom away. I found Desperate Housewives.

For the uninformed, Desperate Housewives is the latest buzz on television, the hottest rookie of 2005. Promoted in Australia as a huge success in the USA, it currently sits alone atop the national ratings’ perch, assisting more than any other show to the rejuvenation of 7’s position as a ratings force – so vital considering the network’s lacklustre results since 2001.

I was dogged to discover if the hyperbole was true. Was Desperate Housewives really superior to former stalwarts JAG, Blue Heelers and Michael Witt? Was it a viable long-term performer or simply 99% hot gas, ready to fizzle as so many hot new shows have in the past? Could it continue to perform so well against Millionaire and Law & Order?

I continued watching. I once read in New Idea of a photo shoot drama between the show’s stars, Teri Hatcher and Marcia Cross. But on screen, there was no hint of the apparent animosity they held against each other, testament to their professionalism and collective acting strength. The level of composure was extraordinary, especially given the show was only in its first season. I thought more about Teri Hatcher. Aside from her obvious good looks, especially pertinent for her age, her style was particularly enticing.

I recalled my friend Nalin’s review of Desperate Housewives, which built my initial interest in the show. As avid as it was terse, I promptly realised just what he was getting at. This was so surreal, chic, exciting and new. I became immersed in another world – the world of the housewives. I stood on a lush green lawn with white picket fences, my teeth brighter than white, my skin a darker shade of beige, surrounded by energetic middle-aged women – but these were no ordinary women. These housewives were rich and complex in character, a tapestry of imagination and foresight, lives so convoluted and unpredictable, with every moment of their existence serving a significant purpose to a greater plot. With the ball in hand you could not predict what they would come up with – you could only presume it would be something lethal.

Is this what Nalin experienced all those weeks ago? I snapped back to reality as the commercial break hit, but wanted more – more scandal, more romance, more long cut-out passes. I stood up, stretched and went to the toilet. I came back in time for the second half with a light beer in hand. The scene was set, the atmosphere electric. I took my seat and continued watching, clapping as Desperate Housewives ran out onto the field.

The show continued with the consistent form displayed in the first half and I could sense a breakthrough coming at any moment. As Millionaire moved up to the $500,000 question and the serial killer on Law & Order claimed a 6th scalp, Desperate Housewives, steadfast as ever, fired back with a superb plot twist. In one brief moment, a perfectly executed bomb changed the course of the night’s events. Eric Grothe Jr capitalised with a try in the corner and the crowd went wild, as did I. I was absorbed to the final whistle, at which point I felt a mixture of relief and happiness.

Everything I heard about Desperate Housewives was true – the buzz was justified, it was easily the best rookie around. Matt gave me a high five and asserted Desperate Housewives would be the future of television. Perhaps it was too early to be certain, but I wanted it to be true. Injury and poor form can hit the best of shows, but I nodded to Matt, agreeing regardless. I could see myself supporting this show for the next 10 years.

I said goodbye to Matt and made my way by foot to Parramatta Station. On the train back to Penrith, I looked at my reflection in the window. I was bored again, though I had a smile on my face. I couldn’t wait to watch Tim Smith again next week.

 

[Willow]

NSW Replacement:
Out - Dilmah.
In - The Colonel.

 

[The Colonel]

[font=Verdana, Arial]
The Colonel takes the field for the Blues, heart worn proudly on his sleeve, ready to show the Queenslanders a bit of NSW Pride.....


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Doin' it for my mate.....

Look at Parramatta this year and what becomes surprisingly evident is the real sense of loyalty and mateship emerging from a team that is quietly moving up the ladder. Turn the pages back eighteen months ago and that definitely wasn’t the case. Players were unhappy, unhappy enough to leave and quit the NRL. Big changes were needed at the Eels and thankfully big changes have taken place.

This year however, it be the camps that the players go into before each game, even for those just across town or the new players headed by Mark Riddell injecting some much needed enthusiasm into the club, it appears to be giving the club a real edge on the field.

[/font][font=Verdana, Arial]The typical Australian... was seldom religious in the sense in which the word was generally used. So far as he held a prevailing creed, it was a romantic one inherited from the gold-miner and the bushman, of which the chief article was that a man should at all times and at any cost stand by his mate. That was and is the one law which the good Australian must never break. It is bred in the child and stays with him through life... [1][/font][font=Verdana, Arial]

[/font]

[font=Verdana, Arial]Brian Smith coaches a team game, promoting within the team smaller close-knit crews who work together on different combinations which in the end benefits the team as a whole. For this to work effectively the players must not just be playing for themselves but the sixteen other players out on the field beside them. They have to works as a unit and not a team of individuals.

[/font][font=Verdana, Arial]Two months ago, Parramatta were being labelled underachievers. Now people are asking whether they are genuine title contenders. Seventeen men working together for a common cause are very hard to beat. [2][/font][font=Verdana, Arial]

Amongst the players a real unity exists, a genuine sense of working for each other and it doesn’t just happen on the field. While many clubs pride themselves on the bond there players have, Parramatta have this year taken it to another level. They’ve followed PJ Marsh off to church to support his life choices and rallied behind Michael Vella when he found out he had thyroid cancer. They have even been off playing lawn bowls on their day off or any other number of events chosen by different players when they get the chance.

[/font]

[font=Verdana, Arial]"It’s knowledge and experience", he said "We know in tough games, when things are getting tight, the man next to you is going to aim up for you, and your going to aim up for him. It’s that belief. And we’ve got it this year" [3][/font]
[font=Verdana, Arial]
[/font][font=Verdana, Arial]It comes through in the way they play the game with the constant talking on field, the excitement when one of the players scores and the encouragement when something goes wrong. The players are enjoying their football and want to be on the field. Against the Cowboys earlier in the year Riddell, Tahu, Grothe and Stringer were given a rest, which the begrudgingly accepted. The disappointment of not playing was clearly seen on their faces as their team mates racked up a big score on their more fancied opponents. But the blokes that were chosen did just as good a job, not wanting to let down the mates they had replaced.

The biggest benefit of the camaraderie that exists is the level to which many players have brought their games. Eric Grothe Jr, who was thought to have missed out on realising his huge potential, has shown so far that he can possibly reach the dizzying heights his father once did. There has been no more explosive player coming off the bench at any club than Dean Widders. Adam Peek, Paul Stringer and Wade McKinnon have improved remarkably since joining the club and their value inside the team is the same as that of more notable players like Hindmarsh or Cayless. Tim Smith is enjoying the benefits of playing his debut season alongside happy and in form players, while they are benefiting from his play as well.

The pictures littered throughout this article show the jubilation on the faces of the players. They aren’t forced expressions; no they are 100% genuine. Ironically, much like the Eels chances of taking out the premiership. Amazing what a bit of belief in yourself and your mates can do.


[1] CEW Bean, The Story of ANZAC, 1921
[2] Sydney Morning Herald, June 6 2005 Article by Phil Gould. [/font][font=Verdana, Arial]http://www.smh.com.au/news/League/Theres-no-I-in-team-and-theres-no-pulling-these-Eels-apart/2005/06/05/1117910186852.html[/font][font=Verdana, Arial]
[3] Chad Robinson, Rugby League Week June 8, 2005 Page 5[/font]


[font=Verdana, Arial]732 words not including references.
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