Some years ago, the former England rugby union player Stuart Barnes was asked to dissect a State of Origin fixture at ANZ Stadium. While declaring that the combatants were “fabulous” and marvelling at the constant collisions, after half-an-hour of play Barnes was surprised to find himself “curiously bored”.
“The game’s shape is so predictable,” Barnes wrote in The Sydney Morning Herald. “In the getting-to-know-you bash-up period, the ball is almost exclusively played between the two 15-metre lines with the backs accessories to requirements.”
Barnes found that “the pace is unrelenting, much quicker than nearly all union games, and the error count is astonishingly low”. He reckoned the players were in “fantastic shape and highly skilled”. He could not imagine rugby union forwards playing at such pace and with such skill.
“And yet,” added Barnes, “for 30 minutes of high-octane, low-error rugby I am bored. There might be hardly any dead time but nor is there much in the way of thinking time.”
Whatever you make of his assessment of State of Origin – and as a raging inferno of comments below the line attested, plenty did – an outsider’s view highlighted a curious paradigm about Origin rugby league: it’s the “best” rugby league; but that doesn’t always make it the most interesting. Indeed for those without tribal loyalties to New South Wales or Queensland, the game itself can be not that great in terms of aesthetics or even entertainment.
Yet Origin is, without question, compelling. It always is. People care. Games one, two and three are always among the top-five most-watched Australian television programs of the year. And not just sport, everything. Master chefs, dating shows, all that “reality” stuff is smashed by the great ratings behemoth of Origin. It’s a rivalry among the best and most storied things in world sport.
And yet the matches themselves, as Barnes alluded, can be completion-fests. The rugby league is “perfect” because the players are so good at not dropping the ball. They complete sets of six tackles without error. So much respect has each XVII for the other team’s point-scoring potential, they look to elminate their chances of doing it. They eliminate risk.
Origin is about attrition. It’s hard-boned bash-footy by the biggest, fastest, most skilful elite. It’s giant humans thundering into legislated space, bashing into opponents, and wriggling free so they may quickly play the ball. And repeat.
And then once in the opponent’s “red zone” near their line – and mostly only then - do players rip off the tricky manoeuvres, the plays and feints and subtle touches at speed that make the game so entertaining.
And yet, ironically, State of Origin rugby league is today for the outsider among the least entertaining league fixtures of the year.
But this year could be different. For NSW Blues coach, the likeable and curious Brad Fittler, has assembled a squadron of players who seem to be picked from Fittler’s head as the ones he most likes to watch.
The Blues’ outside backs are among the fastest quintet ever assembled. The young halfback’s silky, a gun, plays above his years. The older five-eighth’s a winner, a competitor, a funny, gnarly old throwback. And the forwards are among the biggest and most athletic people ever to play rugby league.
And yet the Maroons – as they do every single year, even when trotting out the greatest rugby league teams there has ever been – will be revelling in their underdog status. They’ve been shellacked with injuries and they’re missing four of the greatest players there has ever been.
But this fixture has Queensland ambush scrawled all over it in thick maroon-coloured felt-tip pen. Because if you’re talking game plan, Queensland’s forward pack is perfectly adept at bash-complete-repeat Origin footy. Their backs, even without Billy Slater and possibly Dane Gagai, are just as good and fast and skilful as the Blues’ newbies. They’ve been around and they know how to win.
Captain Greg Inglis has been marred by injury the last few seasons, but his touches for South Sydney in recent weeks have been imperious. He’s a mighty player and the baby Blues backs and edge forwards will fret on the great man like matadors fronting a tricky, malevolent bull. And that could be manna from heaven for Valentine Holmes just as it was for so long for Darius Boyd.
Throw in Anthony Milford, Cameron Munster, Michael Morgan and the super-freak kid from Port Hedland, Kalyn Ponga, and the Maroons have more points in them than arguing politicians.
They might even be able keep Stuart Barnes entertained.
