1992 was the finest year of my father’s life. In January, my mother miraculously gave birth to me. Dad wore a Brisbane Broncos beret to the Kingaroy hospital. Then, in late September, the Broncos beat the St George Dragons 28-8 to secure their first premiership.
“Go! You! Good! Thing!” Dad roared at the TV as Allan Langer – “Alfie”, the star halfback and Broncos captain – scored a try under the black dot, en route to winning the Clive Churchill Medal.
Alfie was the pint-sized prince of Queensland. His height and cheeky grin belied a will to win more like a Roman gladiator. He was also Dad’s nephew, my first cousin. Dad had offered him up to Sydney teams. “He’s too small,” was the response.
In 1993, the Broncos won back-to-back against St George, while attracting average crowds of 40,000-plus. Alfie starred in a TV ad for Tip Top bread with my Auntie Rita. I carried around a Langer doll. Dad decked me from head to toe in maroon and yellow.
For too long, the best Queenslanders were poached by rich Sydney teams. It was poetic justice that success should come with glitz, glamour and profit. But tribal passions ran deep. For diehard fans like Dad, the Broncos were Queensland’s team. They presented a long-awaited opportunity to get respect from “down south”.
The Broncos won the 1997 Super League against the Sharks. It was my first live decider. Dad donned his trusty Broncos beret. The next year, he drove my siblings and me to Sydney for the grand final of the reunified NRL. The Broncos beat the Bulldogs 38-10.
Sport taught me that ordinary people were capable of greatness. It also showed me life had limitations. In 1999, I began under-sevens. The Blaine rugby league gene skipped me. Meanwhile, the Broncos lost eight of their first 10 matches. Langer was so disgusted by mediocrity that he spontaneously retired. I persisted.
In 2000, Kevin Walters captained the Broncos to a fifth title. In 2006, Darren Lockyer captained them to a sixth. But triumph breeds hubris. Shakespeare knew this to be true, and so do Broncos fans.
They had never finished lower than eighth. Coach Wayne Bennett won six deciders from six attempts. Officials took him for granted. In 2009, Bennett left for St George-Illawarra. He won a premiership in his second season. That year, the Broncos ran 10th.
My father died suddenly in September 2011. Langer was a pallbearer. The casket was covered with bouquets of maroon and yellow flowers. For a long time, Broncos games provoked mixed emotions. I waited for Dad to call before and after kick-off.
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Post-Bennett, the Broncos had become the very thing they were created to overthrow: the stagnant Establishment. The NRL was conquered by Queenslanders who slipped through their net. Cameron Smith, Billy Slater and Cooper Cronk found glory at the Melbourne Storm under Craig Bellamy. Johnathan Thurston – deemed too small by Broncos scouts – became a future immortal at the North Queensland Cowboys.
The Broncos had lost the chip on their shoulder. So, they brought back Bennett. In the 2015 grand final, the Broncos led Thurston’s Cowboys 16-12 with seconds to go. But the Cowboys scored a try on the siren. Golden point. Life or death. Broncos’ halfback, Ben Hunt, dropped the ball off the kick-off. JT slotted a field goal to win.
The Broncos – and their million-plus fans – were unfamiliar with the grief of grand final defeat. The squad never recovered. They hovered near the top, with no killer instinct. Bennett was sacked in theatrical circumstances, and replaced by Anthony Seibold.
In 2020, the Broncos finished stone-dead last. Seibold was sacked. The faithful were shellshocked. Ex-players were apoplectic. They browbeat the board into making Kevin Walters the new coach.
In 2023, the Broncos ran second. Reece Walsh, Ezra Mam and Kotoni Staggs evoked those bygone Broncos greats. So much speed and swagger. In the grand final against the Panthers, the Broncos took a 24-8 lead. We dreamed of deliverance from 2015.
Alas, Nathan Cleary stunned with a virtuosic 20 minutes. The Panthers won their third straight premiership. They didn’t just thwart the start of a new Broncos dynasty, but eclipsed the old one. The glory days had never seemed so damned good or long ago.
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In 2024, an injury-plagued Broncos finished 12th. Walters was sacked. Walsh was accused of having tickets on himself. So, they hired a ticket inspector: Michael “Madge” Maguire. His record was chequered, with amazing highs and humiliating lows.
Some Broncos old boys were dirty about sacking a favourite son for a southerner. The 2025 season was akin to Madge’s coaching career: starting hot, before hitting a trough, and finishing hot again. They snuck into the top four.
In Canberra, Walsh was sinbinned for a headbutt. Then he delivered the most scintillating 20 minutes since Cleary in ’23. The Broncos were like Lazarus. They died twice, and twice came back to life. In golden point, Hunt – who else? – kicked the winning field goal. On the sidelines, I was juvenile with euphoria.
This catharsis deepened two weeks later, when the Broncos revived from 14-0 down to end the Panthers’ dynasty in Brisbane. Payne Haas played like there were two of him on the field. With minutes left, Walsh threw a no-look pass to the wing, 14-14. The kick was converted. At Lang Park, even the grandmas went apeshit.
Players described the atmosphere that day as akin to State of Origin. They were right. Brisbane Broncos fans are baying for success, in a way that wasn’t so deafening when it came more easily. It takes great agony to appreciate great ecstasy: in sport, and in life.
I thought domestic responsibilities would make me less emotionally invested in rugby league. If anything, I am regressing. Watching this Broncos side makes me feel connected to my father, but not nostalgic. Walsh and Haas don’t feel like substitutes. They are singular, and potentially even better than what came before.
Which takes us to a replay of the 2006 decider: Melbourne v Brisbane. Since that defeat, the Storm have appeared in nine more grand finals, and beaten the Broncos 34 times from 40 matches. Melbourne are now the merciless heavyweights. Maguire is a protege of Bellamy, like Bellamy was of Bennett.
The Broncos are the plucky upstarts. They no longer take triumph or the city of Brisbane for granted. Their fans have a hard-won insight into the normal rollercoaster ride of most sporting sides. Which might just make Sunday night the sweetest victory of all.
