Players play
Pro footy players live in something of a bubble. They play, they train, they lift heavy things. Their “job” outside all the sweating and whacking is to play touch footy with schoolchildren and attend functions with sponsors. They are kept largely separate from the media (and by extension you, dear reader), lest any of them say anything slightly provocative (interesting) and provide motivation for the mob they’re playing that week. And that, outside of a surf or a round of golf or some competitive ping-pong or X-Box jockeying is effectively it. Players care about the next game. The footy player, he’s not thinking of dynasties or what’s happening in 2016, or this year’s finals or Origin, even their grudge match in round three against [insert whichever team here]. The players’ week is preparation for one game.
And so in a week in which Manly were “imploding” following news their star halves wouldn’t be around next year, it appears the players don’t actually give a toss. Perhaps it’s not absolutely ideal knowing your star play-makers won’t be about next year. But that’s next year. It doesn’t make any difference to this one. And there’s this: unless you, footy player, have a contract signed in the blood of the CEO’s favourite nephew there’s a chance you won’t be around either. Everyone’s playing for themselves, after a fashion. They’re all contractors. “The club”, “the fans”, “the jumper” … important things. But as Taylor Swift tells us, and Manly showed in their gritty victory at home over Melbourne Storm, players gonna play.
A bad man’s pants
Granted, Gold Coast Titans turned up at Bathurst’s Carrington Park with a squad the equivalent of the Burleigh Bears’ less-disciplined players. And granted they might have something of an excuse – and perhaps toss the above hypothesis out like some Boxing Day prawn heads – for not having their mind on the job, what with four of their team-mates being charged with cocaine distribution. And granted they were playing the hot Panthers on their home patch. But my … Jamal Idris had a hat-trick 10 minutes after half-time. There’s a lot of the man and he can hurl it about. James Segeyaro was a firecracker from dummy-half and made 33 tackles. Matt Moylan we will dedicate the following item to. And Micky Jennings’ little brother George has some of the jet-shoes of his bro about him. Lot to like in Panther Land. On the Goldie, not so much. Indeed Gold Coast Titans are a bad man’s pants. They were largely ordinary last year. Their club is effectively under administration. They host Newcastle at 6:30 next Sunday night and if they entice 300 people through the gates it will be a marketing miracle.
The One
Matt Moylan is this column’s State of Origin full-back right now. Josh Dugan, Bretty Stewart, fine men of rugby league. But Moylan is Darren Lockyer, somehow reincarnated before Lockyer’s death, his spirit gone on to the next version of himself in Buddhism’s interesting after-death theory (nice one, Lamas) and running about for Penrith. Ivan Cleary and the Panthers brains trust – which counts among their number, Phillip “Check out the big brain on Brad” Gould, – decided to see if Moylan could handle first grade by selecting him in first grade. He was 21, had killed ‘em in the NSW Cup. But first grade against professional man-beasts who’ve been lifting heavy things for many years is a different kettle of Japanese fighting fish. But Moylan handled it, ran with alacrity, and today excels. Every level upwards, he’s excelled. His time is now.
Winners eating dinner
And thus it is proven, yet again, carved as if by laser in the hardest bluestone, that afternoon rugby league is the best time for the best rugby league. For even on an ordinary, overcast, blustery day at ANZ Stadium, nearly 30,000 fans saw a cracking game of high-paced, high-skilled, heavy-hitting rugby league, the best kind. How about that? Comp heavyweights, a derby, won by the premiers with a try in the corner at the death. That’s what is best about being a fan – your day out on Sunday arvo, your entertainment dollar well spent, heading home with the match review on the radio, preparing dinner, putting children to bed, catching the end of Raiders-Warriors, flicking on the Sunday night movie, warming up some Bonox, hitting the hay tired but happy. And all because the footy was on Sunday arvo. Clubs and this National Rugby League make a lot of noise about “fans” and they can make a case that more “fans” have eyeballs on televisions on a Friday night. But for fans who bother to actually in person attend games of rugby league, Sunday arvo wins like Novak Djokovic.
Elsewhere
Elsewhere, Blake Austin ran with purpose for Canberra but couldn’t prevent the Warriors winning 18-6, because the Warriors didn’t make dud errors every few minutes. Brett Morris looked very tasty at full-back for a Bulldogs team that effectively now has two of him. The Sharks and Broncos have hot-footed full-backs playing five-eighth and produced something of a dirge at Sweet Home Remondis. And the Cowboys were knocked over late by Newcastle in Townsville, Knights hard-acre Beau Scott employing the time-honoured tactic for beating the Cowboys: belt Johnathan Thurston.
