Travels, Travails and Triumphs of the Great Game
We are halfway through a moderately successful Rugby League World Cup (RLWC), yet as expected, a concentrated media diatribe on the competitiveness of the tournament dominates headlines and pub discussions. The focal point of any negative assessment of the RLWC is Australias dominance; however I wont digress any further into this topic in this article. Instead, I shall regale you with a tale that exemplifies the spirit of the RLWC by incorporating the plight of some of the lesser nations. Yes. I know, boring right? Would you rather read about Cameron Smiths off-season contract negotiations? Or how Benji Marshall got injured again? I just hope the referee answered no.
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It had been a tumultuous night filled with misadventure and comical failed pursuits; I laid there on the doorstep of a dingy backpackers motel in the heart of Sydneys sin city, Kings Cross. The sunlight was consuming the darkness of the night. These factors engineered an aura designed for reflection of the recent past, and a contemplation of the future. A few minutes later, a backpacker joined me on the front steps.
Can I have a androtop? he yearned, and I of course, obliged albeit with an incredible curiosity. What was that accent? I soon discovered his Irish roots; however the real shock was the purpose of his journey; the RLWC. His ruminations were those of great effort, despair and discomfort, involving 80 hour work weeks and the cheapest accommodation available. Eventually, his dream was realised, he was in Australia for the cup and all the sacrifices were worth it.
About a week later, I was one of the six thousand odd raucous fans at Parramatta Stadium on a Monday night. I didnt know what to expect, I was sure that there couldnt be many others like the Irishman I met the weekend before. The game itself proved to be a tight affair, with more twists and turns in its plot than a Michael Crichton novel. The crowd however, remained at a constant vociferous level that had me convinced that 15 thousand fans had spent their hard-earned on witnessing an excellent Rugby League match. The Tongans and the Irish in the crowd lived on every hit, pass or penalty unlike any other group of fans Id ever witnessed.
Four days since the somewhat magical experience at Parramatta Stadium I woke up with one thought on my mind. Samoa Vs Tonga. This game had been pencilled into my mental diary since the draw came out. As a local of mounty county (Mt. Druitt area), I knew the importance of this game to people of Polynesian descent. The spill-over effects from Monday night added to the anticipation.
Walking into the ground, I met a Scottish gentleman. Yet another from the smaller British nations, who made the trek down under in support of the great game. He compared the atmosphere to a Hull derby in the European Superleague, only he credited the cultural influences of the Islander nations to a much friendlier atmosphere than one would expect in the north of England. A stark contrast to the impression impregnated into the minds of the public from the media, who suggested that crowd violence was not only imminent, but somewhat inevitable.
The cacophony of the boisterous crowd only inflated the sense of on field tribal warfare, as the 26 players on the field traded big hits and ambitious offloads. As the game wore on, the empty patches of red seating were replaced by sections of red and blue as both sets of supporters were employers of the old adage strength in numbers. It was a truly amazing experience. As a neutral fan I felt myself being swept up in the triumphs and tragedies on both sides, and much like most good things it built up to the ultimate climax.
Thirty seconds left in the game. Samoa has won with an 8 point lead, when a young Samoan ran onto the field carrying his national flag. The siren bellowed in the background as three others climbed the fence on the other end of CUA Stadium. Security were facing an unbridled, rampant opposition that they knew they couldnt tame. Eventually, the whole crowd flocked onto the playing arena and the mood changed from one of tension and danger as a bittersweet poignant aura swept the Western Suburbs. The match had it all, scrum won against the feed, voluntary tackles and most importantly; passion.