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By Nick Walshaw
September 08, 2007 12:00am
MICHELLE Booth can follow South Sydney no further. Put simply, she's out of cash.
A proud Redfern girl, Michelle has driven, flown and ridden the rail to see her beloved Rabbitohs play in every game of 2007. Brisbane. Townsville. Gold Coast. Melbourne. This knockabout factory worker living like a Spartan six days of every week to "support my boys" on the seventh. But now her dream run is over.
"Yeah, I got punted from the factory a fortnight ago," Michelle shrugs. "Actually, it was around the same time as those Manly fellas dubbed us the new silvertails. Now that's gotta be a joke. I mean, do I look like a yuppie to you? Do I look like someone whose weekends are spent swanning around on Sydney's northern beaches?"
"In summer, I'm working six and seven days a week. Trying to save enough cash for winter so I can follow my footy team. And now they're calling me a silvertail! They've gotta be kidding."
South Sydney battlers have united this week to express their rage against Manly owner Max Delmege - the man who recently dubbed them "the new NRL silvertails". The stunning sledge is, of course, just another bullet fired in his ongoing battle with Redfern rivals Russell Crowe and Peter Holmes a Court. Throw Manly co-owner Scott Penn into the mix and you've got a feud like the Hatfields and McCoys - only with combatants boasting much nicer teeth.
But do the Rabbitohs really have any right to deny the silvertail tag? Since voting to privatise last March, Souths have bought everything from Armani suits and Errol Alcott to South Side Story and some training machine called "The Cage".
Splashing money around like Rose Porteous in Prix d'Amour. There's a giant black bunny painted across the gymnasium roof. Freshly turfed training fields at Erskineville Oval. Even a mirror on the office stairwell with "A champion reflects" written above it.
This is the new South Sydney. A pimped up Pride of the League. Like swapping Oprah Winfrey for Halle Berry as your dinner date.
"Mate, a couple of years ago we did weights at Coogee, ball work at Erskineville and video sessions at Redfern," one Souths old boy recalls. "Before my first training run they gave me one singlet, two shirts and two pair of shorts. That was supposed to do me for the season."
And here, according to Souths co-captain Peter Cusack, is the rub. "All these people talking about us being silvertails are missing the point," he says. "This new money . . . it just means we're finally getting what everyone else has enjoyed for years."
And how. Today, Erskineville Oval is a modern training Mecca with thumping gymnasium, staff offices and a three-bed physiotherapy area. Players can use NRL Stats computers, watch video in the media theatrette, even relax in a player lounge boasting both pay-TV and PlayStation. But, again, here's the rub . . . it's still Erskineville Oval.
"Mate, I don't think you'll find too many silvertails around this way," smiles Aboriginal back-rower Dean Widders. "Souths have always been for the working man, the battler. "nd now we're winning games, these people can head off to their jobs each Monday smiling. They say they're from South Sydney and feel good about that."
Holmes a Court agrees. "Russell and I have been very fortunate in life but we're not the club," he says. "The South Sydney club is all about the fans, about the district we're from. I was at Matraville Sports High this week and to suggest these kids are silvertails, it's laughable.
"Yes, people in South Sydney want more. Yes, they aspire for their kids to do great things. But history shows they have to start out in a rough, tough environment. And now, thanks to our success in the NRL, it's helping people realise their own goals. Proving anything is possible."
Aboriginal forklift driver Dave Spears puts it even simpler as we stand near the entrance to The Block. "The kids here," he smiles, "are all walkin' around like they're 10-feet tall."
South Sydney has always been for the people. Just ask the 80,000 supporters who marched alongside George Piggins. The 2982 members who voted to privatise. Even the 396 members of The Burrow.
Or you can just speak with Liz O'Neill. A Rabbitohs fan right down to her red and green painted fingernails, Liz reckons she is forever indebted to 1970s legends like Ron Coote and John Sattler. "When Mum had me in 1971, she was a Maroubra girl, a single parent and doing it fairly tough," the university law student explains. "But every couple of weeks we'd always find this basket sitting at our doorstep - filled with blankets, jumpers, all sorts of stuff. And that kept happening for three years. Only recently someone finally told us it was the Rabbitohs players who organised it."
And this is why Souths folk are proud of their heritage. Why Crowe wants you to know his old man owned a muffler shop on Botany Road. Why John Sutton has the Bra Boys tattoo inked across his stomach.
"Supporting South Sydney has never been about how much money you earn," says Newtown plumber Matt Kelly. "It's about where you live. Community. Belonging."
Winger Paul Mellor knows this better than most. Making his NRL debut as a 16-year-old way back in 1991 - "in the days when weight training was optional" - this youngest ever Rabbitoh is now in his eighth season with the red and greens.
Sure, he played two years with the Bulldogs. Then four with Cronulla. But Mellor knows some things are tougher to remove from this inner-city suburb than even the graffiti tags. "South Sydney is where I'm from, where my parents are from, even my kids have played league in the district," he smiles. "When I switched to Cronulla I bought a house in the Shire. But that doesn't make me a Sharks man. No matter where I go, I'll always be a South Sydney boy."
And so we come back to that controversial silvertails tag. According to Sydney business insiders, Penn is worth an estimated $50 million with partner Delmege around the $200 million mark. Crowe's Oscar fortune is worth $100 million while Holmes a Court is top of the pile with three times that amount.
And as for Michelle Booth . . . well, she starts looking for a job again on Monday.
By Nick Walshaw
September 08, 2007 12:00am
MICHELLE Booth can follow South Sydney no further. Put simply, she's out of cash.
A proud Redfern girl, Michelle has driven, flown and ridden the rail to see her beloved Rabbitohs play in every game of 2007. Brisbane. Townsville. Gold Coast. Melbourne. This knockabout factory worker living like a Spartan six days of every week to "support my boys" on the seventh. But now her dream run is over.
"Yeah, I got punted from the factory a fortnight ago," Michelle shrugs. "Actually, it was around the same time as those Manly fellas dubbed us the new silvertails. Now that's gotta be a joke. I mean, do I look like a yuppie to you? Do I look like someone whose weekends are spent swanning around on Sydney's northern beaches?"
"In summer, I'm working six and seven days a week. Trying to save enough cash for winter so I can follow my footy team. And now they're calling me a silvertail! They've gotta be kidding."
South Sydney battlers have united this week to express their rage against Manly owner Max Delmege - the man who recently dubbed them "the new NRL silvertails". The stunning sledge is, of course, just another bullet fired in his ongoing battle with Redfern rivals Russell Crowe and Peter Holmes a Court. Throw Manly co-owner Scott Penn into the mix and you've got a feud like the Hatfields and McCoys - only with combatants boasting much nicer teeth.
But do the Rabbitohs really have any right to deny the silvertail tag? Since voting to privatise last March, Souths have bought everything from Armani suits and Errol Alcott to South Side Story and some training machine called "The Cage".
Splashing money around like Rose Porteous in Prix d'Amour. There's a giant black bunny painted across the gymnasium roof. Freshly turfed training fields at Erskineville Oval. Even a mirror on the office stairwell with "A champion reflects" written above it.
This is the new South Sydney. A pimped up Pride of the League. Like swapping Oprah Winfrey for Halle Berry as your dinner date.
"Mate, a couple of years ago we did weights at Coogee, ball work at Erskineville and video sessions at Redfern," one Souths old boy recalls. "Before my first training run they gave me one singlet, two shirts and two pair of shorts. That was supposed to do me for the season."
And here, according to Souths co-captain Peter Cusack, is the rub. "All these people talking about us being silvertails are missing the point," he says. "This new money . . . it just means we're finally getting what everyone else has enjoyed for years."
And how. Today, Erskineville Oval is a modern training Mecca with thumping gymnasium, staff offices and a three-bed physiotherapy area. Players can use NRL Stats computers, watch video in the media theatrette, even relax in a player lounge boasting both pay-TV and PlayStation. But, again, here's the rub . . . it's still Erskineville Oval.
"Mate, I don't think you'll find too many silvertails around this way," smiles Aboriginal back-rower Dean Widders. "Souths have always been for the working man, the battler. "nd now we're winning games, these people can head off to their jobs each Monday smiling. They say they're from South Sydney and feel good about that."
Holmes a Court agrees. "Russell and I have been very fortunate in life but we're not the club," he says. "The South Sydney club is all about the fans, about the district we're from. I was at Matraville Sports High this week and to suggest these kids are silvertails, it's laughable.
"Yes, people in South Sydney want more. Yes, they aspire for their kids to do great things. But history shows they have to start out in a rough, tough environment. And now, thanks to our success in the NRL, it's helping people realise their own goals. Proving anything is possible."
Aboriginal forklift driver Dave Spears puts it even simpler as we stand near the entrance to The Block. "The kids here," he smiles, "are all walkin' around like they're 10-feet tall."
South Sydney has always been for the people. Just ask the 80,000 supporters who marched alongside George Piggins. The 2982 members who voted to privatise. Even the 396 members of The Burrow.
Or you can just speak with Liz O'Neill. A Rabbitohs fan right down to her red and green painted fingernails, Liz reckons she is forever indebted to 1970s legends like Ron Coote and John Sattler. "When Mum had me in 1971, she was a Maroubra girl, a single parent and doing it fairly tough," the university law student explains. "But every couple of weeks we'd always find this basket sitting at our doorstep - filled with blankets, jumpers, all sorts of stuff. And that kept happening for three years. Only recently someone finally told us it was the Rabbitohs players who organised it."
And this is why Souths folk are proud of their heritage. Why Crowe wants you to know his old man owned a muffler shop on Botany Road. Why John Sutton has the Bra Boys tattoo inked across his stomach.
"Supporting South Sydney has never been about how much money you earn," says Newtown plumber Matt Kelly. "It's about where you live. Community. Belonging."
Winger Paul Mellor knows this better than most. Making his NRL debut as a 16-year-old way back in 1991 - "in the days when weight training was optional" - this youngest ever Rabbitoh is now in his eighth season with the red and greens.
Sure, he played two years with the Bulldogs. Then four with Cronulla. But Mellor knows some things are tougher to remove from this inner-city suburb than even the graffiti tags. "South Sydney is where I'm from, where my parents are from, even my kids have played league in the district," he smiles. "When I switched to Cronulla I bought a house in the Shire. But that doesn't make me a Sharks man. No matter where I go, I'll always be a South Sydney boy."
And so we come back to that controversial silvertails tag. According to Sydney business insiders, Penn is worth an estimated $50 million with partner Delmege around the $200 million mark. Crowe's Oscar fortune is worth $100 million while Holmes a Court is top of the pile with three times that amount.
And as for Michelle Booth . . . well, she starts looking for a job again on Monday.
