It’s that time of year when players make names for themselves. Names crafted lovingly out of blood, sweat, tears and some of the greatest skills in the history of rugby league. The name on everyone’s lips and fingertips at the moment is Jarryd Hayne, and rightly so. Ever since he went and bit the heads off a school of fish with his Fijian counterparts at World Cup* training last year, he’s been on a form bender, tearing it up like nobody’s mixed business. He has definitively made a name for himself of late.
Other players already have names, but have reinforced their status as greats in one way or another. Darren Lockyer proved on the weekend that he is not a spent force, serving it up to perhaps the most potent defensive force in the history of rugby league, the Matt Elliot-coached Penrith Panthers. Jonathan Thurston outduelled Scotty Prince a few weeks back, proving indeed that he is the greatest player in rugby league today (indeed, look at the Cowboys since he joined them in 2005 – two semi final appearanaces including a grand final loss in 2005, a regular season win loss of 55/62, a playoff win/loss of 5 and 3. Other than the Storm, the Sea Eagles, the Broncos, Parramatta, the Roosters, the Bulldogs, the Titans and the Wests Tigers, who has a better record in this time?).
It got me thinking though, what about players ruining their reputation? What’s the fastest a name could break? I recently broke into Hazem El Masri’s house and read his dream diary. He has a recurring dream that runs like this…
“The Grand Final, full house, full time. My last ever game. The Doggies have just scored a miraculous, last minute, length of the field try to pull themselves within one point of the lead. The crowd is going ballistic. The team is celebrating like it’s 1999. The opponents are beaten, crushed. The try was scored under the sticks and all I have to do is slot it over for a famous, famous victory. I take nothing for granted, making my usual meticulous preparations. There is no wind, it is a fine evening. I take two steps backward, two steps to the side. I stare intently at the ball. The crowd continues their wild celebrations, as do my team mates, though I block it all out. I stride confidently in, and strike the ball. But something goes wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. I slipped, or did I twitch? Was there something on the ground, a divot? I scratch the top of the ball, it dribbles along the ground and comes to rest under the goal posts. The touchies wave their flags in the telltale sign of an unsuccessful conversion. The crowd goes even more ballistic. My teammates are in shock. The opposition is in even more shock, and they start to celebrate. I wake up in a pool of sweat.”
Could a finer reputation fall further more quickly? Of course, this will never happen. I personally guarantee it, as does Allah.
*Not a real World Cup
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Yes it may be true that the name on everyone’s lips and fingertips at the moment is Jarryd Hayne. But the name under everyone’s fingernails is Anthony Watmough. He has been called many things recently, including a DNA freak (by Warren Smith), the game’s best forward (by Mark Geyer), and a stupid idiot (by Matt Orford). On current form he is untouchable, and while he breathes Manly’s title hopes remain alive.
ReplyDeleteOn Hazem’s dream – my interpretation is as follows. Of particular interest is the fact that there is no horror or shame or embarrassment reported. The dream actually stops right at the point where failure is realised. Up to that moment, all is under control, every preparation has been made. Paddy Power has already paid out on a Bulldog victory. The shock ending, the muffed kick – this gives the meaning away! You see, it is not Hazem’s nightmare at all. No. I believe it is indeed the nightmare of a Bulldog’s fan . . . it is your nightmare! Aha! As for the cause, it probably is a psychic relic from an event that shattered the lives of each Bulldog fan, at this exact time of year, way back in 2002. The then champions-in-waiting suddenly have glory snatched from their grasp in a manner no-one would ever have predicted – that’s right, by none other than a team of accountants. Nightmarish indeed. My advice is to relax, and remember that Hazem himself has long since overcome the effects of that trauma. So, while it is natural for fans to suffer occasional horrifying flashbacks such as yours, just keep telling yourself, “No, that is in the past, it is finished…” (But if pain persists see your doctor.)
Wow, that is a deep and penetrating analysis. But ultimately incorrect. Yes, the Dogs have wounds (that's not even the worst one), but so do all teams. 1995 and 1997 grand finals, anyone?
ReplyDeleteIn fact, I have a theory that any team (and especially their fans) that makes three grand finals in a row but only wins one of them, suffers particularly deep and lascerating psychological wounds. Think about the difference between winning three titles in a row (last achieved by the Eels from '81 to '83) and winning just one (Manly, Roosters and Storm since then). So close to a dynasty, yet for many the questions of what if overshadow the actual title won. Finally, the prosecution calls in Canberra ('89 - '91), which won two of three grand finals. Unanimously remembered as champions, not chokers. I rest my case.
Getting back to my original post, I could have replaced Hazem with Brett Stewart, but instead of fluffing an easy conversion, he streaks away for the match winning try only to be run down and brought into touch by Daniel Holdsworth. Same point. From that moment on, Brett Stewart would be remembered as often for that one horrible thing (on the field) as for the many wonderful things (on the field) he's done. Htime
Hey, not fair Anonymous, all this has nothing to do with Manly. Why bring up '95? Are you really trying to hurt me? As for '97, now that is totally below the belt, why those darned Drugcastle cheats . . . where's my blood pressure pills? And I don't even have high blood pressure. Manly potential chokers, Brett run down by Holdsworth?? I can't hear this stuff, I can't hear you [places hands over ears and chants "40-nil, 40-nil, 40-nil"]
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