Josh Massoud September 08, 2009 * By Josh Massoud
I KNOW Daniel Anderson about as well as any other NRL coach. Which is not very well at all. Anderson's type, you see, aren't inclined to drawing journalists like me into their confidence.
You can't blame them. We're not the most reliable lot when it comes to keeping juicy secrets. And at this time of the year, coaching is all about secrets. About keeping real stories suppressed. Throwing out red herrings and false scents that blur truth and fiction. Not to irk the scribes, of course. But to keep rivals guessing.
St George Illawarra will be doing a lot of guessing this week, despite barbecueing Anderson's Eels 37-0 last Friday night. Rather than charging back to Kogarah for another cook-up on Sunday, the Dragons will be treading warily. Very warily.
From what I know about Wayne Bennett - which is a bit more than Daniel Anderson because he's published two autobiographies - Benny will be expecting an almighty ambush when the teams return to Kogarah. Bennett has been around for so long and won so much, he's almost earned the power of omnipotence.
As such, it's extremely hard to keep a secret from him.
Nonetheless, Anderson is giving it a red-hot go. How else can you explain Parramatta's lame effort last Friday night? It was the biggest letdown since The Never-Ending Story 2. One, I suspect, orchestrated well before kick-off under the care of Anderson himself.
First we had Nathan Hindmarsh withdraw because of an injury to his left big toe. Arguably the competition's toughest and most uncompromising player pulling out of a huge match because of a complaint with his tootsie. It sounded suspicious from the get-go, but then Hindmarsh appeared on Footy Show, plonked his size 13 on the desk and presented the offending appendage sans sock. What happened next stunk worse than Ronald McDonald's foot odour after a lap around the drive-thru.
Host Paul Vautin grabbed Hindmarsh's toe - the one that had supposedly restricted his mobility over the past month - and yanked it forward with the same malice that you'd apply a chinese burn to your snotty little brother. Hindmarsh yelped, but then, in keeping with the comedic theme, began to laugh.
I'd imagine Eels officials wouldn't have been amused. This was, remember, an unprovoked aggravation of an injury to one of their most valuable players. Yet what did they have to say? Nothing.
Their silence was telling, but not nearly as much as Parramatta's muted effort on Friday night. In previous weeks they had off-loaded with the frequency of stolen stereo fencers. Yet on Friday night, it took them 15 minutes to generate a second-phase play. In previous weeks, lesser teams served up a blueprint on how to frustrate the Dragons. But on Friday night, the bulls-eye on Jamie Soward's head had suddenly vanished. Big Michael Weyman barely broke a sweat in defence.
Instead, the Eels died with the music in them. Bennett can now only guess what it will sound like when they are resurrected this Sunday.
But if anyone can take an educated stab it's Bennett. Go back nine seasons when he was in charge of the Brisbane Broncos, who were unbackable favourites to win the 2000 premiership. In the final round, they were lapped by the Roosters 28-blot. Four short weeks later, they were standing on the winners' dais after comfortably accounting for the hapless Chooks on Grand Final day.
Ducks and drakes. Smoke and mirrors. Truth and lies. It takes one to know one.
