Chief_Chujo
First Grade
- Messages
- 7,492
Betoota, the satire news site, did a better job than a lot of the media outlets
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Pretty sure he added...."And put the kettle on son and make me a cup of tea."
That was one of the best blues I've ever seen. Valleys went on to win by a field goal if my memory is correct.
That's what makes him so legendary. He lived and breathed RL, caring more about his teammates and club than his own health. Sport is at its best when it's played for pride and love of the game. Fans can relate to a team that fights tooth and nail to win. Professionalism has killed that side of sport. Players are just businessmen these days who couldn't give a f**k about the final result.
Now that’s a great idea..
It was 1977 or thereabouts, just prior to the NSW vs Queensland match in Brisbane and Tommy was in a foul mood. Those mongrels. Fancy trying to put him in the same room as that young kid Steve Mortimer, the same kid who was trying to beat him out for his halfback spot.
It was insane, crazy, dangerous. And Tommy was in no mood for it.
Then, to top it all, “bugger him” if when they got to the room, Mortimer had the bloody “balls” to throw his kit on the double bed, as if he was going to sleep there and Tommy could have the single one.
Vesuvius should be so spectacular in its explosion.
“Listen,” Tommy said, “You’re not f---ing state halfback yet, son. Bloody well back off. I’ll take the double bed.”
Those were the days: Tom Raudonikis and Steve Mortimer in 1981.CREDIT:FAIRFAX MEDIA
And with that, Raudonikis picked up Mortimer’s bag, opened the window, and threw it outside to the street six floors below. He waited for it to hit, bursting on the pavement with an appropriate explosion of clothes, underpants and effects, and then turned back to the youngster.
Mortimer, stunned, as Tommy tells it, was still groping for an appropriate comeback when the senior halfback followed up with his best shot.
“And if you still want to go on with it, I’ll shit in your bed, you know I will, and then we’ll see if you want to sleep there.”
Raudonikis got the bed, Mortimer went to get his stuff from downstairs, and the memory of the incident still has power to please all these years later.
“I got him, right there, I got him,” chortles Raudonikis, taking another long drag on his ever-present cigarette. “It took him about another three years to come back from that, to really challenge me for the spot again, and by then I was ready to leave.”
