Cool Hand Luke
Apart from a couple of flat-out spectacular tries that you should check out at your earliest convenience, it wasn’t much of a spectacle on Friday night. The Storm and the Chooks produced a physical, dour affair of wrestle mania won by Melbourne who were playing their third game in 10 days, a lot of rugby league. The Roosters dropped the pill and couldn’t muster enough of their particular brand of hyper-physical roll-over because Storm super-coach Craig Bellamy’s game plan was to defend like beast masters and choke the very life out of the runner, as much as you can, without incurring penalties.
And if you do incur a penalty, do it again, because chances are the referees won’t penalise you further because the more penalties there are the more referees are criticised and referees are but men and don’t like being criticised, as much as they say they’re cool with it. Bill Harrigan was the “best” referee in olden times because he didn’t blow many penalties, rather he “managed” the game and people said, oh yes, top refereeing.
Cameron Smith made 42 tackles and dominated the ruck and controlled the game’s very speed, a smart and important man. In attack Smith was typically cool hand Luke, his game is total rugby league, at least that which is practised from dummy-half, the league version of the union halfback. And he kicked three goals from the sideline in a game his team won by two points.
The Chooks remain premiership favourites in terms of money one might wager with corporate bookmakers but, as with all the finals bar the Bunnies and Sharks, there’s nothing in finals fixtures in terms of physicality and intensity. And look out, for here come hard-men Storm, who have a little bit of lightning to help out their remaining big two. And now they have two weeks rest.
Crazy eyes and froth
If premierships were won on pure, sweating, frothing emotion, when a man’s neck veins protrude like industrial cable ties, or pythons, or … those things, just those things, then the Bulldogs would win going away. Because the Dogs have two mighty warriors in James Graham and Josh Reynolds, perhaps rugby league’s premier passion men. The former was all crazy eyes and hard charges, and no small amount of skill. The latter iced the cake with a field goal in golden point, a vexed issue for another time.
For now you admire the Bulldogs and their winning-ugly ways. It’s uncertain how they’ll go against the Chooks next week, for it was a scrappy enough match. And they could be without the two bearded belters Frank Pritchard and Sam Kasiano. And Saint George Illawara showed the Roosters a blueprint for how you’re going to beat ‘em, Butch, by hanging onto the ball and “completing sets” that very modern building block of hard and grafting rugby league. But the Dogs won ugly and that doesn’t show in the win-loss column.
Good Cows and Bronco biltong
Well. How about that for a game of rugby league? Second versus third, a passion-play of high skill in the face of hyper-physical defence, a sell-out in the best ground in the land, a match of grand-final-like intensity, a very Australian derby in which the teams represent cities 1,350 kilometres apart. Top, top stuff, Cowboys and Broncos. Wouldn’t be the worst grand final though it would spark a week of angst of Queenslanders demanding the game be played at said best ground in the land, Suncorp Stadium.
The Broncos won on defence. Johnathan Thurston threw wave after wave of giant, fast humans at the Brisbane line – here tackle this, now this, and this! Scott! Tamou! Arrooooo! – but the Broncos held firm, didn’t panic, and just tackled until their shoulders were so much cauterised biltong.
The Cows will take plenty from it. They’ve forced their fellow Queenslanders to produce their best and most important defensive display of the year and kept coming until the final play. Keep throwing all that man-action at your opponents and they will crack, it’s just a matter of time. The Cows just ran out of it. And the Sharks next week face a bigger hurdle than a hurdle the size of that mountain in Townsville that people run up and become very, very tired.
Surging Sharks, busted Bunnies
With Greg Inglis on one leg, George Burgess and Isaac Luke in naughty chairs (and later in floods of tears) and Sam Burgess about to run about in the centres for England, Souths were always going to struggle against the surging Sharks. And struggle they did. Indeed they were flogged like horse thieves in less-enlightened times.
The Sharks? Well. The Sharks are starting to look like the top-four squadron their impressive team list suggests they should be. Top back-row, strong bench, and very slick and nippy backs. The Sharks just may be bad-ass. Their forwards are all, to a man, barnstormers and brutes. Paul Gallen, Sam Tagatese, Chris Heighington, theses guys were brutal with the ball against the Bunnies. Throw in Luke Lewis, Mick Ennis and high-skilled Wade Graham and there’s a lot to like.
There is the small matter of the judiciary who’ll hear charges for high tackles against Ennis and Graham. And if they’re both upheld you don’t fancy the Sharks in Townsville. But you like the Sharks. Even if they did beat up on defending premiers who limped into the finals like a bashed-up packet of Jatz Crackers. Souths had nothing.
