TRI-NATIONS (2004) NEW ZEALAND v AUSTRALIA

[Willow_2003]

The Tawera Nikau Cup

NEW ZEALAND KIWIS
v
AUSTRALIA KANGAROOS

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.

REPRESENTATIVE CONDITIONS:
Captains to name a total 10 players for each team.
Each team shall consist of 7 players + 3 reserves.

Full Time: Wednesday 27 October, 2004. 9:00PM AEDT (Sydney time)

Venue: The Front Row Stadium

Crowd: 15,450
REFEREE: Mystique

**Referee Blows Game On!**

 

[Willow_2003]

The Kangaroos have arrived to take on the might of New Zealand.

1. Willow (c)

2. Wal (vc)

3. Everlovin' Antichrist

4. miccle

5. Azkatro

6. The Colonel

7. Goleel

All important reserves:

8. roosterboy60

9. Mr Rock!!!

10. eloquentEEL

 

[Willow_2003]

*Willow runs on for the Green and Gold*

The Great Herb Narvo

When discussion comes up about the fitness of modern sportspeople, we often think of our own footballers. But it’s hard to imagine many of today's Rugby League players matching it with the great Herb Narvo.

A rugged Test forward, Herb Narvo was Australian Heavyweight Boxing champion in 1945, a title he held during his football career. He was also a fine cricketer and cyclist of real potential.

A Newcastle Rugby League junior, Narvo went to Wickham School and worked on the water front to make ends meet. He joined Newtown in 1937 and had an immediate impact on the Sydney competition.

Originally omitted from the 1937 Kangaroos squad, Herb got his chance when champion forward Sid ‘Joe’ Pearce Jnr broke his leg. Narvo was a sensation in France and England, playing in four Tests and scoring two tries.

After the tour, Narvo represented NSW in 1938-39 and in 1941 while playing for Newcastle Norths, but his chances of playing for Australia again were taken away by the advent of World War Two.

Serving in the Royal Australian Air Force, Herb Narvo was considered a ‘fitness fanatic’ and was the physical fitness instructor for the RAAF.

He returned to Newtown in 1943 and produced a powerful display, guiding the Bluebags to a 34-7 grand final win over match day favourites North Sydney. A magnificent victory for Newtown but while they rejoiced in the win, no one could have known it would be the Bluebag's last premiership title.

Nevertheless, it was an impressive display from Narvo who appeared unstoppable. Norths captain-coach and League legend Frank Hyde was flattened after finding himself on the receiving end of one of Narvo’s powerhouse runs.

In an interview with Sean Fagan in 2001, former lock forward Charles 'Chicka' Cahill gave his 1943 team mate a glowing appraisal: “I've always maintained that Herb Narvo was the best second row forward I've ever seen play and I've seen a lot of them of play.”

In 1945, Narvo was named captain of New South Wales. In the same year, in only his 13th professional fight, he won the Australian Heavyweight Boxing title, defeating Billy ‘Wocko’ Britt in just 23 seconds.

By now, Herb Narvo was a household name.

The following year Herb Narvo accepted an offer to captain-coach St George. The Dragons were coming off a disappointing season, finishing second last in 1945. A crisis meeting was held amongst committee members and their deliberations resulted in the signing of Narvo for 1946. The board speculated that the club’s many young players would prosper under Narvo’s experience, and they were right.

Herb brought to each game a lucky brooch given to him by a young lady admirer who supported Saints. But luck played no part in the success that was to follow. Narvo instigated a strict fitness regime and the young Dragons reaped the benefits. Grand finalists St George won the 1946 NSWRL Club Championship and for the first time in their history, were minor premiers. Narvo’s enthusiastic and demanding coaching style had completely turned around the fortunes of St George.

Now aged 33, Herb Narvo lost his Australian Heavyweight title to Jack Johnson. Incredibly, he was able to get up the next day to captain-coach St George in the 1946 grand final, scoring a try as the Dragons went down to Balmain by 13-12. To say the decider was a controversial match is an understatement. Saints scored four tries to three amidst claims that two of the Balmain tries were from two blatant forward passes.

Normally very conservative and non-critical of refereeing, Narvo said afterwards: ”Ponchard [Balmain’s five eighth] lost the ball which went a foot forward. The decision cost us the match”

Despite his ruggedness and fighting spirit, Herb Narvo had the reputation of being one of the fairest of sportsman.

”Many said he was the finest leader they had ever played with,” wrote St George official Horrie Maher many years later.

Herb played just one season with Saints before heading back to the bush, initially as captain-coach of Cootamundra in 1947 and then Camden in 1948. At age 37, Narvo returned to Newtown in 1949 before finally leaving the Sydney competition and finishing up as captain-coach of Newcastle.

A fighter, footballer and thorough gentleman, the great Herb Narvo passed away in 1958 following a long battle with cancer. Far too young at just 45 years of age, it was a cruel blow to one of the fittest men to ever play the game.

*750 words*
Ref:
Encylopedia Rugby League Players
Saints: The Legend Lives On
rl1908.com
SOTV history

 

[[furrycat]]

The NZ Boys perform the HAKA

Ka mate! Ka mate! Ka ora! Ka ora!
Ka mate! Ka mate! Ka ora! Ka ora!
Tenei te tangata puhuru huru
Nana nei i tiki mai
Whakawhiti te ra
A upa ... ne! ka upa ... ne!
A upane kaupane whiti te ra!
Hi !!!

 

[[furrycat]]

After a delayed squad training, the NZ team can finally be announced, minus 2 players who may be named later.

The New Zealand Kiwis

The Captain:
1. [furrycat] (C)

Vice Captain:
2. Madunit (VC)

3. Thierry Henry
4. League Nut
5. Parra_Panther
6. Big Pete
7. Savage Panther

The Bench:

8. Robster
9. Un-named
10. Un-named

The side appears to be full of many new players (Including the captain), but are confident they can get some results.

 

[[furrycat]]

As Madunit is unable to post, [furrycat] will post his article for him with respect to the allowance by Willow and hopefully the referee

Madunit
2. New Zealand Kiwis

The NRL Anthem

Now everyone will tell you that Rugby League in Australia has lacked a great anthem since Tina Turner’s ‘Simply The Best’ in the early 90’s. So what I decided to do was try and figure out what sort of song would sum up the game of Rugby League today.

First of all the song should be well known by the general public and by people of all ages. With songs in the past, the lyrics have been altered to make the songs more Rugby League oriented. Personally I think this technique has been a failure and needs to be kicked in the pants. We need a song whose lyrics in their original form are almost written as though they were describing Rugby League.

So, with that said, a song that describes the game. Something catchy, something powerful, something that gets you on your feet, but it must also require no editing of the lyrics. This doesn’t leave very many opportunities.

I began to think about the aspects of league that people focus on the most, and try and make a musical connection there. The main aspects of league I have found, that make people watch the game are:

*The big hits
*The tries
*The best players in the world
*The pace of the game
*The dominance of the game by Australia.

So we simply link these attributes to music, artists and songs. The big hits, so we’re looking for great songs, not for some one hit wonder that everyone has forgotten, like “Agadoo.”

The tries, that pertains to scoring and accumulating. This could mean an artist on the rise, or an artist whose sales are always increasing and not decreasing or fading away, so preferably not someone like Leif Garrett.

The best in the world, only the biggest names in world music currently still in action. Straight away I regrettably had to cross out John Lennon, Elvis Presley and Buddy Holly. That killed off some great songs.

The pace of the game is quite fast, so that means no slow ballad or operatic styles of music. That meant yodelling was still a chance, however, the amount of famous yodellers whose record sales are comparable to that of Britney’s and Justin’s are, well, non-existent.

The dominance in the Australian market is also a very telling factor. Australian Rugby League needs an Australian artist. Someone whom the Australian public recognises and whose songs are well known. The artist must also be well liked by all members of the Australian public, or as close as possible to being liked by all. That meant poor Wil Young copped the red marker treatment as well.

So after going through all that, I found that I needed to find a song that is a big hit particularly in Australia and by an Australian group if possible. Their works must be easily identifiable by all age groups as well. Finally, they must be doing very well in record sales and not be a ‘yesterday’s hero’ so to speak. That rules out any famous Australian rock bands and artists. Cold Chisel, gone. Jimmy Barnes, had his run. AC/DC? Puhleese! Goanna? I don’t think so. Who can we go for?

Then it struck me. There’s only one group who everyone knows. One group whose record sales are always strong. One group who is still well known today. One group who is Australian and are very successful here and abroad. One group whose music isn’t slow and boring. There is only one group and they have the perfect song!

This very song will change the face of Rugby League for the better. No longer will people be critical of the theme song for the NRL. No longer will lyrics need to be edited. This song describes the players ball handling skills, the groggy players after they’ve been hit hard in a tackle, the wild arm waving you see from players on the field as they direct traffic.

This song is now and will forever be the song that you hear and will instantly think to yourself, ‘Now that’s Rugby League!’

Yes, it’s no other than ‘Hot Potato’ by The Wiggles.

NRL, my work here is done!

699 words, including title.

 

[Willow_2003]

*The new rookie Big Pete receives a loose pass, he's on the back foot all he can do is run straight forward*

Playing Union with League in my Heart

Ok I’m going to make an announcement, I play Rugby Union. Now hold on before you throw any of your trash at me, I love my league.

You maybe are wondering why play Union when you like League more and that’s a question that has surfaced a lot in my mind. I don’t mind Rugby Union but I prefer Rugby League a lot more.

You’re probably still scratching your head so here is the full story. When I left my Primary School two years ago, I went to a school with Rugby Union as their only Football game. I was thinking after the first season (where I played terribly) that I would join a Rugby League club. However at the beginning of this year, my parents advise me to join this club, Sunnybank. At first thought it was going to be a no, but after hearing how this team had won the competition last season and that I would be able to understand the game more I couldn’t really let down my parents thus I agreed.

I went to the first training session, feeling as nervous as you usually do when you do anything for the first time. I met all the other Under 15’s/Under 14’s players, all nice people and really learnt a lot. In fact I soon became a fan of Union, not as much as League, but I soon started watching Union matches and enjoyed them.

Yes shock, horror I enjoyed a Union match. Luckily soon after the Rugby League season started and I was yet again hooked on it. But I found I wasn’t as much as I was last year, where every tackle I felt and every celebration I would celebrate too. Even State of Origin wasn’t the same; I couldn’t even be bothered watching most of the third game this year.

Yes Rugby Union seemed to suck a bit of my League Soul away. Even when my teams were winning, I didn’t really care. Rugby Union was taking over; Rucks and Mauls seemed more important then Play the balls. I was actually awaiting Union International matches more then normal NRL matches.

It wasn’t until one training session; my Rugby Coach wanted to play a game of League. Nothing serious, he just wanted to get our tackling skills up. I had sort of a solid season and hadn’t really had much to offer to the table, bar my size.

I went in with very little confidence, but afterwards I had come out with a lot of confidence. I had a good tackle count going. I had scored two tries and I loved it. It really showed how fun Rugby League was to me.

The sad part is now, I’ve gotten myself and others dedicated to Union, and I’ll be touring New Zealand next year with my club. I had finally come back to League, but it was too late, I’m stuck with Union at the present time.

Don’t get me wrong though, I like Rugby Union, I like some of the rules, and the forwards have a lot of things to do. However it’s not the same as the good old Rugby League atmosphere.

Union seemed so new and different thus exciting at the time. The break from League was good. But I have learnt something, once you start watching League there is never any turning back. After you play the ball for the first time you can never go back to the rucks or mauls.

League is in my heart and as I continue playing Union I’ll toil and improve, but remember how fun playing the ball and organized play was.


619 Words (Including the title)

First Ever Forum 7's article, let's see how I go.

 

[LeagueNut]

LeagueNut bursts forth with patriotic pride as he makes his Kiwis debut ...

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4. LeagueNut (Kiwis)

But the bad guys never win ... do they?


"I wonder how many knife-wielding maniacs are sitting behind us?"
An innocent question from the girlfriend - she was only being half serious - but still a question worth thinking about. After all, we had managed to get ourselves seats at Aussie Stadium for the Panthers vs Bulldogs qualifying final match surrounded by the infamous 'Bulldogs Army'. According to everything I had read, as an "outsider" I was pretty much guaranteed a beating at some stage of the match ... and possibly a firecracker or two as well. The fact we were planning to cheer for the Panthers was the final nail in this imaginary coffin of mine.

Strangely, we made it through the night unscathed. The Panthers lost of course, but being a Warriors fan I had become gradually accustomed to that feeling throughout the season.

It was certainly an intimidating experience though. The whistles, the makeshift drums, the constant "Bulldogs" chants ... in a way I was relieved that the Dogs had won. Surely this bunch of fanatics would have demolished the stadium otherwise - at least that’s what I thought at the time.

But it didn't stop there. We were also in the audience for the Grand Final Footy Show - and once again, the Bulldogs fans in the audience were in a loud mood. I was already getting sick of this 'unruly mob', and the chorus of "boos" as Brad Fittler was introduced sickened me. Jesus guys, just shut up!!

Anyway, how could a club like the Bulldogs have such vocal support? The salary cap cheating, rape allegations, drug allegations, the arrogant attitudes ... who could possibly pledge their allegiance to a club with these sorts of values? And what kind of comprehensible reason is there for being so damn proud of it??

During the lead-up to the Grand Final I found that 95% of the people I spoke to were hoping for a Roosters victory - and the most common reason was "because I really hate the Bulldogs". And the hate didn’t seem to stem from jealousy, and it wasn’t due to old rivalries ... it was simply the reputation that the Dogs (and their fans) had built up over the last couple of years, resulting in a backlash from the media-hungry public.

Grand Final day - and for the first time I was there in the flesh. Obviously I was cheering for the Roosters, "officially" because I was hoping for the perfect finish to Brad Fittler’s career. But "unofficially" I had become caught up in the anti-Bulldogs brigade. It certainly didn’t seem right that a club with so much controversy around them in the last few years could claim the ultimate prize. Hell, even while squeezing through Lidcombe station on the way to the match, I heard rumours that Bulldogs fans had already started rioting somewhere.

Wile E Coyote never ate the Roadrunner. Dick Dastardly could never stop that pigeon. Gargarmel never caught the Smurfs. Surely the Bulldogs couldn’t capture the Premiership ... could they?!?

510 words including title.










Whoops ... there’s a little piece missing from this. Please allow me to continue ...

We all know what happened next. The Bulldogs held on to win a nail-biter 16-13, Brad Fittler couldn’t finish with the fairy-tale we wanted to see, Willie Mason got his hands on a nice shiny medal and Andrew Ryan hoisted Steve Price up on stage to accept the Telstra Premiership trophy.

And while they were out there realising exactly what they’d just done, it started to hit me as well. I felt sorry for the Roosters - they’ll be back - but I also felt sorry for the small-minded attitude I had carried and held against the Bulldogs club and their fans.

Every club has it’s minority of idiots ... some are fans, some are players and some are even hidden deep within the boardroom structure. But they all share the same goal - a goal that the Bulldogs had now achieved despite years of negative publicity and numerous obstacles. It takes a very special kind of team to achieve that.

And although it won’t mean much, I would like to offer my sincere congratulations to the 2004 champions - and their army of supporters who have stuck by their team like glue through the turbulent times and can now reap the rewards. The passion and loyalty that you’ve shown is amazing - and long may it continue.

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747 words between the dotted lines ... GO THE KIWIS!!

 

[Goleel]

Gol strides out onto the park full of pride in the green and gold, a tear in the corner of his eye, ready to do the Australian side proud.

===

Letting It All Out

"Bloody Petersen, can't that moron just stay on his damn wing?"

"Pass you fool, just pass the damn ball!"

"My grandmother is a better player than you Vella."

Bagging footballers. A proud Australian tradition. While many would say you aren't a true supporter of your team until you have followed them to New Zealand, North Queensland and Melbourne, decked out in team colours despite their abysmal form all year, I can't agree. Sure, owning the jerseys, knowing the players, spending more than you could ever care to remember following your team around the country on their fantastic losing run, they make you a fan. Perhaps even a great fan. But you certainly aren't a diehard, true to the bone supporter of your team until you engage in a never ending stream of abuse directed at your teams players each and every time you take your seat to watch them play.

It's a sign of affection. Really, we Parramatta fans loved Ben Kusto. He would cost us games, never do anything right and generally added nothing to the club, but by golly was he a great target for the angry diehards on the hill. Useless, worthless, pathetic, he copped it all, and we loved every minute of it. It gives us solace in a losing season, knowing we can just sit there and hurl abuse at men who can play a game at a greater level we can barely imagine ourselves ever reaching, without fear of retribution from the players themselves, to the delight of the drunken mob around us. You know you love it when the old man in his James Hardie jersey stands on his chair with a Toohey's wobble and uses unrepeatable language to describe Daniel Wagon's mother, father, grandmother and dog, while still insinuating to him that they would have thrown that pass to an open Wade McKinnon on their outside had they been in that position.

It offers you a relief, a sense of detachment. Any loss cuts to the heart of the diehard fan, particularly a hiding, and especially when your team has played like garbage. You know you'll be copping it from relatives, friends and that wanker in the office who takes pleasure in telling you just how bad Parramatta were that weekend, ignoring just how badly his Sea Eagles are going, and drilling you about your team and your coach at every opportunity, that is, when he’s not saying how good Scott Donald and Daniel Heckenberg are going, or that Jamie Lyon will be in maroon and white in 2005. It's not your fault you will be the butt of all jokes this week, its the players, the coach, the referee's and the hot dog vendor who are to blame, and Sunday afternoon on the hill is the only chance you'll get to tell them exactly how you feel about the slap across the face they've given to you with their lacklustre play, about the terrible week they have sentenced you to as a result, and why not blame them for high petrol prices while you are at it? It is your right as a fan to abuse your teams players! It is their fault, not yours!

You have to stay loyal to your side at every other time. You have to defend Daniel Wagon as a five eighth when your Bulldogs loving brother in law gives it to him, it is your duty as a fan to defend Matt Petersen despite his tackling leading to three tries on the weekend, and when you’re team has signed a group of nothing, has been and never were players, you have to defend the decision and just know that they will ‘come good’. For most of the year, you will show blind loyalty to your team. The only time you can come out, say what you really think and give your side the roasting they deserve is at the game, safe in the knowledge that 10,000 others in the stadium quietly agree with what you are saying, and wish they were drunk enough to do the same.

So embrace the chances you get. Call Vella a soft cat when he gets smashed taking the ball up yet again, tell Chris Walker what you think of him and his mother when he comes in off his wing yet again. It’s your right as a supporter to abuse your team! Trust me, you will feel all the better for it.

===

747 by my count.

 

[SP]

one of the forum sevens originals, Savage Panther makes his international debut, he runs onto the field for the Kiwis
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Savage Panther, #7

It’s About Time............. What have you been doing all those years N Qld??


It’s very rare to see someone who hails from New South Wales congratulating a team from bitter rivals in State of Origin (and everything else), Queensland, that have started to perform really well within the competition (after being pretty bad from the start). Traditionally, New South Welshman would rather watch teams from QLD loose and that's how its stays (and vice versa for Queenslanders).

But as Australians, we all like to see the “underdogs” go well, especially if they have been pretty crap since they have been in the competition. Take the North Qld Cowboys for instance, firstly, they are a QLD team living in the shadow of their “big brother” Brisbane Broncos, who are widely supported in QLD, but hated by NSW. People hated the Broncos because they were successful from the start, they were called “arrogant” by rival supporters, and they just kept on producing star players year in and out. I don’t think there has ever been a season where the broncos haven't produced a future star player.

On the other hand, North Qld, who came into the competition in 1995, didn't have the full nursery that the broncos had. The Cowboys, when they entered, had only Townsville and some little other areas of Nth Qld to get talent from, whereas Brisbane had everywhere in Queensland. North Qld were known as the “whipping boys”, whenever the cowboys played, it was always a guaranteed 2 competition points for their opposition. They played like they wanted to win the games, but it just always seemed like the opposition were just too strong in the end. However, i really don't think their fans cared, Townsville loved the opportunity of having a top flight national team, and they came out supporting them even if they were loosing by 40 odd points. Even though their team never brought premiership glory to Townsville, the loyal Cowboys fans have stuck by their team.

It wasn't until the last 2 years that North Qld have started to show the potential that they are capable of. In 2002 we saw them improve greatly against teams who would normally beat them by a big margin. In 2003 we saw them win the bowl at the World Sevens, the first piece of silverware that the club has won, and finishing just a few points from the top 8. But 2004 was the year of the Cowboy (2003 was the Panther’s year). North Queensland appeared in the finals for the first ever time in their history, also the first time that the NRL finals featured 2 Queensland teams. Not many people thought they would of progressed, believing they would have been knocked out along with Canberra. Their first finals game was against eventual premiers, Cantebury, a 30-26 win to the Qld’ers, then it was a all Queensland final in Townsville (Brisbane, NQ and the NRL agreed to move the game to Townsville, and rightfully they did), North Qld were to play the “Big Brother”, Brisbane Broncos, The Cowboys never have beaten Brisbane before, the closest they have came was a couple of draws they have had, but history proved wrong and the Cowboys went through, for a chance to play in the grand final.

So the final four in the NRL finals were: Penrith Panthers (4th), Cantebury Bulldogs (2nd), Sydney Roosters (1st) and everyone’s new 2nd team, North Qld (7th). On Saturday, it was the defending premiers, Penrith against Cantebury, with the Bulldogs winning 30-16 and going to their 1st Grand Final since 1998. On Sunday, it was the 2003 runners up, Sydney Roosters against North Queensland. Many (mainly cocky Rooster fans) believed it would be a walk in the park for Sydney, but North Qld came to play, it was all level until the final minutes when a field goal settled the difference.

Cantebury played the Roosters in the Grand Final, and the Bulldogs won the title. 16-13

North Queensland can only get better from the finals experience, and even being only 80 minutes away from a grand final. It is about time that the North Queensland Cowboys started to play to their potential, their fans knew it was about to happen, but they just didn't know when. As a Penrith fan, i can say to the Cowboy fans, it has happened.

736 words

 

[The Colonel]

No 6. for Australia, The Colonel looks for the ugliest Kiwi on the field, muttering about how hard his choice is, and runs the ball straight and hard....

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The Threatened Species

“Easier to take a dive than to show toughness? WHAT happened to the old days when you never showed the opposition when you were hurting? To me, one of the hardest parts about playing league was the unwritten law you never showed you were in pain, in case the opposition thought they could use you as a weakness.”
Trevor Gillmeister, The Sunday Mail - 15 September 2002

The dive, an old pox but one that threatens to destroy the very nature of rugby league as players take advantage of the video referee’s penchant for awarding penalties for missed fouls. An injury suffered in the heat of battle was once seen as a badge of honour, however it’s now seen as an easy way to gain extra metres or a shot at goal.

It’s enough to make old men turnover in their grave, coaches to scream blue murder and older fans to forget the deeds of Sattler and Higgs. It is slowly infesting itself in the game today like the vine in South American rainforest that is known as the choking vine. Spore borne, it attaches itself to a tree and entwines the entire trunk in a woody mass of vines. Ultimately the tree expires, crashing to the forest floor in a crumbling heap of dust. In a similar way the dive threatens the very core of the game of Rugby League.

The very nature of Rugby League is two teams pitched together like gladiators, fighting tooth and nail to come out on top. Feigning an injury didn’t cut it when the gladiators fought each other nor should it help a team gain advantage over another. To stay down, in this writer’s opinion, is as close to the act of cowardice as was deserting your mates in the fiercest of battles. It is clear that while the video referee can judge on events after a tackle, especially if a player stays down hurt or not, then advantage will be taken. The knock on, the high tackle and the forward pass all have, in the past, been missed on numerous occasions and while exasperating were argued over on the back page of the newspaper on Monday morning. The advent of the video ref hasn’t seen such incidents disappear altogether so maybe ruling on high tackles should be left to the on-field official and returned to the back page and the judiciary.

This, however, brings about another problem in the new days of litigation. How do you know when a player is faking an injury? The video referee is far from the action and the most innocuous of tackles could quite possibly cause serious damage. The referee is not a qualified doctor and cannot make a legitimate case for or against in the heat of battle and a team doctor isn’t exactly going to give up one of his players. Short of employing an independent doctor to assess a player in a short space of time there is no reasonable solution to the problem. Accusations of cheating are rarely civil and a player or official leaves themselves wide open to the courts should a legitimate injury be made worse by any action taken or not.

Earlier this year we saw Luke Ricketson react strongly to Shane Walker staying down after what looked like, when shown at normal speed, a legitimate tackle. In slow motion, contact was made with Walker’s chin and a penalty was awarded. Walker was soon back into the Souths line, showing little to no ill effect, which only highlighted the frustration of Ricketson. What was later to be deemed worthy of an Academy award could have far greater impact had, in his frustration, Ricketson moved a legitimately injured Walker and caused further damage. While it didn't occur at that moment, fears could well be realised further down the track unless something changes and soon.

The onus to stamp out the “dive” should fall squarely upon the shoulders of the player and the coach who attempt this act. Eliminating this practice could well save a players career for legitimate injuries could be treated properly and with concern rather than contempt. Frustration at the actors could return to more appropriate places like referees and coaches and we could again enjoy the contest for what it is…



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700 words between the lines including the title

 

[The Piper]

Wal runs onto The Front Row Stadium for Australia and soaks up the atmosphere...

THE YOUNG SUPPORTER’S TRIP TO THE GAME

An account of the ride there from the future of our game; the child fan…

Being to nervous to sleep all night, you finally nod off about midnight and when the alarm you set extra early goes off, you slam your hand down over the button to give yourself an extra half and hour sleep. You can hardly keep your eyes open when your parents have to physically pull you out of bed forty-five minutes later. Splashing water over your face, you snap back to reality and are now ready to face game day.

Never opening a paper before other than to read the comics or what’s on at the movies, during breakfast you tear the rapping of the roll and immediately turn to the back page to read ever last word of every rugby league article you can find. What is considered the most important meal of the day takes a good thirty minutes to consume while you read the columnists’ predications of the game, which you hold in highest regard.

Your jersey that you were given for your birthday has been worn every second day since you have received it, but still when it has been pulled out of the wardrobe this morning, it seems like you are the king, sporting a crown of gold. As you throw it on, it seems to you that everyone you walk by stares at the magnificent figure and proud fan you have become after propping this article of clothing on your chest. The car is packed. You can barely fit in the back with the bags, food and flags stuffed in there with you, as if you were off on a one-month trip around the country. But at this time nothing can dampen your spirits. Mum is already in the front, Dad jumps in, and you are now on your way to the game.

The inevitable and ritual stop at the petrol station half way through the trip follows shortly. The youngest sibling has to use the amenities once again, even after being asked three times to go before you all leave. This gives you the time to run in while Dad fills up the car to grab everyone a soft drink and a couple of packet of lollies. Dad pays for them all when paying for the fuel and back you both go, climb in amongst the mess and head back onto the main road. You know exactly how far the ground is from the petrol station and you count down the minutes. Not long to go now.

The car pulls up across the road from the stadium. All faces in the backseats are pressed against the windows as you stare in a hypnotic trance out at the park. You scramble amongst yourselves, as you cannot get out of there quick enough. The first child out grabs the flag that is waved all the way to the ticket booth. Staying with your parents is a main priority, second to only that of looking for any first grade players walking past. The lines are sometimes rough, but talk of what is to come passes the time greatly. Eventually pushing through the turnstiles you are met with the enchanting world of Big League sellers, merchandise stalls and Footy Doubles. It is a place where hot food is in everyone’s hands. Coming around the corner, the field lies before your very eyes marked with the wondrous white lines and glorious green grass that you asked Dad why he cant mow the lawn to have it like that.

The first game begins, under 19s as you know it and don’t care what the NRL will change it to now. With that excitement happening on the field, the colourful characters in all jerseys and gear pouring in and the ever-daunting decision of what Dad will get you from the hot food shop is nearly too much to handle. He too has to take the youngest to the toilet again after they sculled the whole bottle of Fanta in fifteen seconds. You order a Hot Dog, even though you don’t feel you will eat the whole thing after the entire packet of FanTales. Already the trip here has been the most fun you have had out ever – yes, even better than the trip to the game last time.

729 words including title

 

[choc_soldier]

parra_panther, playing in the black of his "adopted country", probes for a gap...



QUITE A "SUPER" YEAR

Nineteen ninety seven was quite a big time for me - I was in Year 12, and quietly stressing out about the impending exams that would only determine my immediate to long term future.

It will also be remembered as the year that Australia had two rugby league competitions - the original, traditionally based Australian Rugby League (ARL), and the new, quite bold Superleague.

Now, I'm not going to get into a discussion about which one was the best competition - I was a supporter of both, and I thought that both of them had their good and bad points.

However, I must admit that I more or less watched Superleague through default, only because my team, the Panthers, were in that competition.

Decked out in a strip that could be best described as "zebra roadkill", the team from the foot of the Blue Mountains actually enjoyed a relatively successful season. After quite a few lean years following the premiership glory of '91, characterised by internal dramas and the constant failure to qualify for the finals, the 1997 version of the Penrith Panthers made the 5 team finals series.

It was a year where a teenage sensation was thrust into the limelight, a goalkicking centre finally realised his true potential, and there was the return of the "prodigal son" after a couple of years across the Tasman.

Craig Gower, Ryan Girdler and Greg Alexander all had key roles in the on field success of the Panthers.

Even though he had made his first grade debut the year before, Gower burst on to the scene in 1997. Playing in the hooker role, his deft skills were soon rewarded with representative honours. At the raw age of 18, he was selected as the Australian halfback during the end of season Great Britain tour.

Girdler had a stellar year. He was always considered as a creative and ball-running centre who could kick goals. In 1997, he was putting in those performances on a regular basis, and was also nailing the conversions from all over the place. Just like Gower, he was named in the NSW and Australian squads.

After 2 years playing for the Auckland Warriors, "Brandy" Alexander made a return home, and was promptly regained the halfback and captain roles. His early season form turned the clock back a number of years, and was a surprise selection for NSW in the opening match of the Tri-series, before injuring his foot. He would play precious little for the rest of the year - not that it put that much of a dent into the Panthers charge.

It was a season of quite some memorable performances. The one that sticks out the most was the 27-26 win against the Broncos at Penrith in a Monday night game, with a Gower field goal the only difference in a very entertaining match.

Also, Peter Jorgenson's post try celebrations (the aeroplane) were an amusing sidelight.

But it was also quite a controversial year as well, and it was all to do with what ended up being quite a farcical World Club Challenge tournament. The Panthers won all 6 games against their English opposition (Bradford, Warrington and St. Helens on a home and away basis), yet did not qualify for the finals - even though English teams that had won less games managed to do so.

The Panthers ended up finishing 5th at the end of 22 rounds, and were drawn to play the Bulldogs in the first week at Belmore. Penrith snuck away with a one point win, but the run ended down in Canberra the following week, with quite a heavy defeat.

All in all, it was a relatively successful year. The re-unification the following year (the National Rugby League in 1998) promised quite a lot, but it was back to what us fans had become accustomed to - relative mediocrity. 1996 in itself was quite an ordinary year too, so 1997 definitely stands out like a bright beacon. It was great while it lasted though.

It was a bright spot in a decade that was heavily punctuated at the start by premiership glory, but pretty much sweet little to really cheer about for the rest of it.

However, it did establish two genuine superstars who would both, in time, make their mark.

And also, as a unit, it showed what the Panthers were truly capable of when they played to their potential.

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Word count: 746
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[miccle]

Miccle runs on to a flick pass and starts to weave between Kiwi defenders...


____________________________________________________________

It's not all about the main game, folks!

"So, you're a footy fan hey? Love your Broncos? Travel to Suncorp every fortnight? Excellent, you're halfway there. All you have to do is keep this Sunday afternoon free, I'm coming to pick you up and we're going to watch a game of footy!"

"But the Broncos are playing in Sydney this weekend..."

When I sit back and realise how I've changed the lives of a few of my close mates throughout the course of 2004, I feel a glowing sense of pride. One extra "QUEENSLAND CUP MEDIA PASS" was sent to me in February, and I'd like to think I have made the most of it. While I could have easily given it away to any of my mates who are just as serious about their national and local footy as me, I made it my mission to take at least 4 different people to their first ever Queensland Cup games sometime throughout the season... and 3 of those have since attended matches as paying spectators.

I find it hard to believe it was only a few years ago when I thought the National Rugby League was the be-all and end-all of football. I knew there was a Queensland Cup competition, and sometimes checked the ladder and results with a vague interest, but I now get just as excited about my team in the local comp as I do about the Broncos. I'd like to take this opportunity to tell you all why I think local league is just as exciting and enjoyable as watching the big men in the big time.

Firstly, because I know we are all so stingy when it comes to our money, the level of cash needed to enjoy an arvo at any Queensland Cup venue is remarkably small. Adult admission to any ground is always under $8, parking is usually free (if not, park down the street and walk the 2 minutes), the can bar operates at just $2.50 a pop and the burgers are about the same. Where else could you see a game of decent football, drink two beers and eat two burgers for under $20? That money will usually only get you to the nosebleed section of some major stadium.

The quality of football on display is, as many of you already know, absolutely top-notch. These guys are competing against each other for positions in the NRL, and they play like they really mean it! Big hits, biffs and broken noses and jaws are just a part of another day at the park. The intensity level of these matches when you are sitting just metres away is really quite incredible, and gives you an entirely different view of the game itself.

One of the best aspects of supporting your local competition is how much you know before the average footy fan reads something in the paper. Seeing young guns amaze the fans and commentators with their NRL debut is no longer surprising. This year alone, I began the season by watching names like Craig Frawley, Barry Berrigan, David Stagg, Gary Tupou and Neville Costigan impress for the Toowoomba Clydesdales. Not even nine months later, they are household names for most people in this great city.

Only 12 months have passed since I was watching Shane Tronc, Luke O'Donnell and Matt King carve up the opposition at a park 5 minutes away from my house.

I will never truly understand how people can describe themselves as fans of rugby league when they never make the effort to participate in the local competition. Despite all of the personal benefits one recieves from the experience (spending an afternoon in beautiful weather watching a great game for a very low price), the game itself is helped by the extra attendance.

Aside from simply hoping for a good score on my article, I have used my chance at the pinnacle of the F7's game to push the agenda for grassroots league. Like the International circuit, it is an area which needs extra support to continue and prosper, and if this article has encouraged just one more person to travel to the local park on a Sunday sometime next year, my work here will be fulfilled.

"Hey Mick! You keen to head to the Queensland Cup Grand Final at Suncorp this weekend? I've got a whole bunch of us together for it..."


"Count me in, mate. I've got the feeling we could be in for an absolute blockbuster!"


_________________________________________________________

750 words on the dot, inc. title

 

[Azkatro]

Azkatro posting for the mighty Kangaroos.

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

It can't be taught and it can't be bought

Willie Mason. Brent Tate. Matt Bowen. Willie Tonga. Vinnie Anderson. Billy Slater. Mark O'Meley. Matt Cooper. Thomas Leulaui.

By no means an exhaustive list, but these names are just some of those who will become the mainstay of rugby league for years to come. Not long ago they were the kinds of players who were still young, exciting rookies. Albeit part of a much larger list, but these guys were the ones who have made it all the way.

The new list features names such as Karmichael Hunt, Benji Marshall, Shane Tronc, Anthony Toupou, Matthew Head and Michael Ennis. Again, by no means exhaustive, and I'm sure I've left a few important ones out there.

I get excited seeing young players coming through the ranks. You always watch them with interest and with great anticipation as to what they might be capable of on the football field. It's the kind of thing you keep an eye on every year, whether you're a casual fan or otherwise. You can't help but be interested in what's in store for the future of the game, and there's something compelling about watching the young guys go through their rite of passage against the older, experienced players who are itching to introduce them to top flight football.

But back to the list of player names, and which ones I might have missed out. I'm sure you, the reader, found yourself thinking "what about [insert player name here]? He's got to be the most obvious one of all!" And by now you're probably wondering how I could possibly be writing such a list (or article) without including his name.

Well, there is a method to my madness. I haven't included this particular name on the list for a very good reason. All of the players I've mentioned are part of the run-of-the-mill process we see year after year, decade after decade. It's the natural life cycle of rugby league, and sports in general.

This player is not on the list because he transcends the norm.

Technically he is a part of that list, but I didn't include him because watching him play makes me forget about it all. I've always found new recruits exciting to watch, but he somehow makes all those players seem drab in comparison. All those old cliches get thrown out the window when he does something special, and it brings everything back to a marvellous, almost child-like simplicity.

You can't help but enjoy the game on its most basic level. Everything you normally think about suddenly becomes secondary and inconsequential in comparison. Most rugby league fans have experienced the moment before. You forget the score. You forget who's playing who. You forget who you're supporting. The words of the commentator go in one ear and straight out the other, because during that moment you're too compelled with what you just experienced to comprehend anything else.

Just like a child, you become innocent again for that one moment. Those are the best moments by far, of total happiness and joy that you feel in your love of the game.

It's rugby league purity.

And you can't help but feel genuine appreciation and admiration for those who are capable of providing you with that feeling.

I believe the Immortals of our game are afforded such stature because they were capable of producing those moments. It's not because they had decorated careers, or that they captained their side to grand final wins, or dominated certain arenas for years on end.

They have an aura about them. They outshine even great players, and provide you with those magical moments that take your breath away.

It can't be taught and it can't be bought. And even the more talented of writers are likely to lament that it can't be truly described, either.

The best I can do in lieu of finding the right words is to try and stir up the feelings that all league fans have within them. But that's all I can ever hope to do.

The player I intentionally left off that list is capable of creating those moments. He has already created some and will undoubtedly create more in the future.

I can't wait to see Sonny Bill Williams play again.

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

747 words. Liftoff!

 

[Willow_2003]

Out injured: Everlovin' Antichrist
Replacement: Mr Rock!!!

 

[Mr Rock!!!]

Mr Rock proudly dons the headgear and takes a hit up for the beautiful lady that is Australia

When the Dream becomes a reality (Well….. Sort of)

“The ball goes out to Brown!!!!, Brown!!! Brown!! BROWN FOR THE LINE!!!!!”……

I am the greatest Prop forward of my generation and I’m out there looking up at the sea of Maroon faces screaming out “QUEENSLANDER!!!!!!!!!!” The stats are real, the fans are real and many even have the number 8 Guernsey with Brown written across the shoulders.
This scenario and those words have echoed in my brain once every month in my dreams for a few years now. You see I have this recurring delusional dream wherein I am a former origin great that has been recalled to help out the current Queensland State of Origin team salvage the shield. Naught ever happens after I get the ball, it seems as though my heart starts to race and I wakeup???? “You don’t go for the line?” I hear you ask. Well I expect any man’s adrenaline would race beyond control with an open line in front of him and Willie Mason and Mark O’Meley coming across in cover defence.

Of course this is all a dream. Pure fantasy created by a League hungry brain that has been starved for years by a lacklustre, overweight, lazy, unmotivated slob that should never have given the game up 17 years ago when he discovered an object called the guitar and young girls….Ahh..The Mammaries …woops..I mean the Memories.
This my friends is about to change.

I Mr Rock!!! 32 years of age of unsound mind and any white spirit have signed on to play for my local footy team for the 2005 season. My wife says I am crazy and she’s right, I am. The thing is that I’m sick and tired of being the lounge chair critic, whom of which likes nothing better than to voice his opinion on whom should have made which tackle where and when. So when my mate informed me that he was coaching the Rhinos this year I decided to jump on board. What can it hurt?? I’ve already had a stress test done on my heart when my father had a quintuple bypass and that was clear so I’m not going to have heart attack. My knee works enough for me to run in a straight line. And I’m old enough and dumb enough to realise getting smashed doesn’t hurt, it’s the pain after the game that matters and by then I will have consumed enough XXXX to not worry.

Weighing 136 kilograms and standing 6 feet tall, I will have to lose weight and train like a bastard over the break, however I’m hoping that all the hard work will pay off. The Rhinos only managed to win half of their games this year and my future coach thinks that if I can manifest my outlook on life onto the field, the team will gain the extra mongrel they need to have a chance of making the finals next year. I walked away from the conversation thinking “Hmnnn…..Did he just insinuate that I’m a mongrel????” But that’s another story I suppose.

If I can push myself through the training for a couple of months, put in the hard yards, create new friendships and look after my knee as good as I can I’ll be ready to take the field and unleash some “mongrel” for my team.
And when I am in the sheds absolutely shitting myself before the game, after I lace up my boots, strap my knee, don the head gear, place the shoulder pads on and rub the vasoline over my eyebrows I will pull on that Guernsey for the first time in a long while. Then I will sit back and soak up the familiar smell of the deep heat that has faded in my memory over the years.

I know I’m going to take the first hit up of the match and what happens next will be anyone’s guess.

But it won’t be a dream

One thing I do know is that I will run out on the field with my mates look around and in the crowd I will spot one 5 year old boy with a Queensland Guernsey that his mum has modified for him with the number 8 on it and the name Brown written across the shoulder. And in that instant, in his mind I will be the greatest prop of my generation.
And in my heart ……..that is all that matters to me.

746 Words including Title

 

[Willow_2003]

Thierry Henry- New Zealand

WHY?
A very deep and meaningful essay

Sometimes I wonder why I’m a rugby league fan. Well, that’s a lie; rugby league runs in my family, and my journey to become a full-blown footy fan was mapped out ahead of me from birth (well, maybe I was supposed to stop along the way and actually be a decent player at some point- but let’s ignore that for a minute). We all stumble across hobbies, past-times, and passions in many different ways, in our piteous attempts to spend the interminable hours of our meaningless existences doing something not merely enjoyable, but also personally consequential. Or something like that. It’s not my intention to get metaphysical but sometimes I can’t help myself. As an avowed pessimist, a manic-depressive cynic, and so on and so forth, the fact that I am a compulsive sports fan in general is a constant source of fascination to me. We all know the taunts of non-sports fans, the predictable yet almost indomitable force of their mockeries of the bizarre games that we watch, the absurd rituals we go through every weekend (at least). Why do we do it? What is the meaning? Is there a God?

These are all interesting questions, of course, but need they be asked? It could simply be that we follow rugby league because, like all people, we have nothing better to do. Certain attributes appeal to us in an aesthetic sense, as pure entertainment, real life human drama- but then again, Survivor and Big Brother don’t get their own regular spot in ‘serious’ news coverage. Rugby league is much more, or perhaps much less, than human drama. It is utterly contrived; players are paraded in front of thousands of people, dressed in matching uniforms, expected to conform to set patterns of behaviour, and judged purely on attributes such as size, strength, and speed. They are pitted against each other in a frantic rat race. I could say this was a metaphor for ‘modern life’, or the oppressive socio-political systems that constrain all members of ‘civilized society’, but that would be getting ridiculous. Suffice to say, we enjoy competition, especially competitive violence. It’s human nature, no more or less.

But I’m merely stating the obvious. We all know that rugby league has that intrinsic gladiatorial appeal. We bay for blood, and know that we’re expressing the more bestial side of human nature. There’s no shame in it, because it is best expressed in a relatively safe, controlled environment, between teams of consenting adults who are handsomely paid, and may even be enjoying what they do. This doesn’t explain our passion, our loyalty to a particular team, or even this particular sport. I don’t think of myself as a nationalistic person, but I can’t quell the Kiwi fervour that fills my soul (I don’t really believe in that, either) every time the black and whites play a test. Perhaps in the future I will leave Auckland, and god forbid, decide that there are nicer cities in the world- yet I will never stop supporting the Warriors. Again, this is human nature- our desire to identify ourselves with something, so that we can feel like we are part of achievements that transcend our individual capacities. To truly identify oneself with something, it is necessary to be loyal. It is a quirk, perhaps a frailty of the human condition, that we cannot truly appreciate the multitudinous successes around us, but must permanently and narrow-mindedly align ourselves to one particular team in order to feel the pure elation of accomplishment.

Why not just side with those sport haters who can see through us, and pick apart our reasons for enjoying rugby league? Why can’t we accept that our local prejudices are manifestations of the basest idiocies of human nature? We revel in violence and conflict, and wallow in groundless hatred, and we lamely attempt to bask in the reflected glory of others.

Should we be excused this luxury? Of course. Whatever your philosophy, whatever your politics, we can all agree that life is short, and people are people. Can I come up with any coherent argument validating our inanities, proving why rugby league should be so important to people? No. All I can say is that it keeps us entertained, and allows us to thrill, if only for brief, joyous moments, in the feats of our insignificant, glorious heroes. Personally, I can’t think of a better way to spend the interminable hours of my meaningless existence.

749 words

 

[[furrycat]]

[furrycat] - New Zealand

The end of The Dream

Foreword: This article has been designed to show the mentality of a player whose career has tragically been cut short… The point of me not naming who it could be is to show how quickly someone can be pushed out of the limelight, and into the ditch.

Is this how all the other guys must have felt when they realised their ultimate hope and dream, was no more than a simple covetousness? A lust that will never be fulfilled? I can’t seem to find myself again, my walls are closing in… There’s something inside me that crawls beneath the surface, asking to come out. Is it a renewed hope? Maybe something that will resurrect the desolated remains of a childhood dream.

They’re whispering again… They’re laughing at you!. I stand by myself at training, watching the other guys whisper and laugh at me… Ogling… Mocking. What do I do to ignore those behind me? Is there something wrong with my hair? Am I a bit too chubby? Maybe they are just jealous of me… Hah, Jealous of me. Why would they be jealous of me? They have the skills, they have the material possessions, they get the girls, so why be invidious of me? Who would want to be the woes of a social outcast that is my contemptible and gloomy existence? No-one, that’s who and that, is all I’ll ever be… No-one.

”Learn how to kick a ball you loser”. That’s not my name, you don’t know me. What did I ever do to you? Did I aggravate you in a past life? Mocking… Ogling… Laughing… Shouting…

”Words cannot hurt me..”. If I tell myself this rubbish long enough, will I believe it? Or is it only a matter of time before the savages evolve and start throwing projectiles at me? I, for one, would be glad if they did. The projectiles may be hurting me physically, but their constant jeering is a constant prodding in my side. Prodding… Prodding… Prodding to the point that I wish I could just disappear…

”You’ll never be a good footy player… Just give up now”. And what gives you the right to tell me what I can and can’t be? How would you feel if I crushed your dreams? A smashed glass is the only way to describe it… Broken in so many pieces that the damage is irreparable and even if you manage to make the glass look slightly normal again, you’ll always know that you missed a piece along the way… A piece of the puzzle that you’ll never get back… A piece of your life forcefully removed.

I remember the days where the game had a meaning to me. Running around on the freshly laid turf, the smell of the coffee parents brought to the game so they’d be awake long enough to see their son play. I’d shout out to my team-mate for the ball. It’d float through the air and land into my small fragile hands, and I’d be away… I’d see them catching up to me, but I’d bite my tongue and push myself harder than ever before. I was free, liberated, peaceful… I was happy… Happy? Do I know what this means anymore? It’s a remote remembrance.
Happy
adj. hap•pi•er, hap•pi•est
1. Characterized by good luck; fortunate.
2. Enjoying, showing, or marked by pleasure, satisfaction, or joy.
3. Being especially well-adapted; felicitous: a happy turn of phrase.
4. Cheerful; willing: happy to help.
Good luck? Fortunate? Joy and Satisfaction? What is this foreign language I am reading? Ha-pee. Am I even pronouncing it correctly? How can I be a word in a world that is full of cruelty and is so demanding on our mentality?

Maybe I should just give up now. The days of enjoying this “game”. Who am I to think I could ever be something? Someone who kids would one day look up to? Isn’t that what we all think about when we’re a little kid though, winning a grand final and being the worlds best player? Even though my dreams were smashed like the metaphorical glass, I’ll always have the memories… And they can never be taken from me. I'm hopeful I'll get back my dreams... I'm hopeful I'll play football again... I'll get the greatest pleasure from doing something no-one else said I could do. One day, I won’t be mocked. One day, I won’t be ignored… One day, I won’t be me anymore…

749 Words

 

[Willow_2003]

Congratulations to both sides. 7 v 7