WHEN IT COUNTS. A Look at the 2015, 2016 and 2023 NRL Grand Finals.

The brief encounter that can glorify or destroy you.

Oh yes, you can say you have been ttt5 me he better team right up to this snippet of time when you find yourself alone confronted with the burden of making the decision and executing the play that will determine your, and your teammates’, destiny; the effect of the label Premiership Player on future employment and comradeship. A lifelong justification for what you put yourself through.

We know from numerous accounts and from personal experience that in moments of imminent danger time appears to slow; evolution’s gift to our physically fragile species providing us with an opportunity to make the decision that saves us from extinction.

The same sensitive and complex brain though can also send us into another realm; prickling with panic, inaction, hurried over reaction, an overwhelming need for the drama to end.

Of course the ‘big moment’ that decides the game is often founded on earlier events; on acts of brilliance or lapses of judgement or discipline. Could there be a worse word in the biggest game of your life than ‘lapse’?

It often doesn’t matter how talented you are or how much you’ve trained for the moment.

One of the finest finishes to a match was the one to the 2008 semi-final between Brisbane and Melbourne at Suncorp. The minor premiers Storm had been victims of a dramatic last minute loss the previous week to the Warriors in the Qualifying Final. They had been trailing Brisbane all night with the home crowd singing their team home, and were on the verge of a straight sets finals exit, when after 78 min and 36 seconds… I’ll let the great Ray Warren and the dramatic interjections of Matty Johns take over here:

Warren: “Now it’s with (Ashton) Sims.

He’s lost the ball!!!

And Melbourne have the ball with a minute and twenty to go!…

It’s gone to Cronk. They’ve got numbers.

(Johns: “Aaah!!!”)

Inglis is over to score!

(Johns: “Aaaah!… Unbelievable!!!”)

The Premiers are back! The Premiers have scored!

(Johns: “Aaah, Rabbits!!!”)

This is just an amazing, an amazing fightback! The crowd can’t believe it! The Storm by two as the full-time siren is about to sound! Broncos have sunk to the ground all over the park.

And here is the mistake.”

The replay shows Sims being tackled from the side by Israel Folau, tilting him slightly and the ball impacts Sika Manu’s hip and spills out. The cameras and commentators seek Sims out just as they will seek Ben Hunt out seven years later. He is shown squatting with his head down, fingers pressing hard into his forehead.

“Ashton Sims is demoralised!”

But in the end, it’s the end that counts. A fortnight later in the game that really mattered -the grand final – Melbourne would be obliterated by Manly 40-0.

During the presentations following Manly’s 1996 Grand Final victory Paul ‘Fatty’ Vautin said: “And each of those blokes standing there will go to their grave a happy man They’ve played in a premiership winning side… they’ll all be mates no matter what happens for the rest of their lives”.

After last year’s Grand Final Michael Ennis referred to another element: The adulation of winning a grand final just erases all the mistakes that you made but when you lose, it just seeps into your soul.”

The allure of the Grand Final is unquestionable because it reduces the test as to who is the best to an 80-minute contest. In the great ones it can come down to the final second.

When asked “Could you pick a moment out of your entire commentary career that is special to you?”, Ray Warren replied: “That 2015 Grand Final. The last 3 minutes.”

When the final siren of that Grand Final between Brisbane and North Queensland was sounding the Broncos were ahead 16-12. The records tell us they lost 16-17. What happened in the final moments that cost them the premiership?

In the 43rd minute after consecutive penalties the Broncos, just a couple of metres from the Cowboy’s line, chose to kick a penalty goal for a 16-12 lead.

Should they have started a new set for a possible try and 20-12 lead? It has been said that the Broncos were too defensive with Hunt’s kicking options. But his first was a 51st minute 40-20 attempt that fell short.

They did make several attacking raids but rather than risk attacking returns from the Cowboys with high kicks or grubbers into the in-goal they repeatedly and expertly kicked for touch in the far left corner, slowing the play and hoping for a Cowboys error.

During a 70th minute attacking set with three tackles remaining and 15 metres from the tryline Corey Oates drops a poor pass from Darius Boyd.

A Ben Hunt 30 metre line break three minutes later doesn’t lead to points.

In the 77th minute, an Anthony Milford steal and another attacking play from the Broncos forwards ends with McCullough kicking deep into touch.

Hunt’s devastating dropped ball during golden point is still minutes away but he makes two crucial errors just prior to that which may have already cost the team the premiership.

The Cowboys spread the ball from the ensuring scrum. Like Frazier finding Ali with his brutal left hook, Hunt nails Kane Linnett with perfect contact – a tackle he had performed three minutes previously – except this time Hunt’s lethal combination of short stature, and powerful base impact the hips of the leaner and taller Linnett lifting and driving him almost head first into the ground, drawing a penalty.

It is indicative of the Bronco’s relentless defensive second half efforts but this one proves too zealous at a crucial time of the game. And Hunt he knows it as he’s seen mouthing an obscenity, towards himself.

With under two minutes remaining, the Broncos stop another Cowboy raid on their line. They play slowly, a dangerous ploy as there is still time for the Cowboys to attack if the Broncos fail to gain metres. Despite hit-ups by Sam Thaiday and Corey Parker they have only reached the Cowboys’ twenty metre line.

But, as he has done all match, Milford steps up with a big left step on Jake Granville, another left, a right and an acceleration past the grasping James Tamou and Ethan Lowe.

Now stop it there. It’s 78:48 on the fourth tackle and Milford is in the clear. Surely it is over now. A tackle and kick to come. North Queensland aren’t scoring from deep in their half with less than a minute remaining.

As he crosses over the thirty he slows, searching for an offload. McCullough, initially on his inside but marked by Justin O’Neill turns inside and now there are no options for Milford. At the halfway line he pulls up in front of Kyle Feldt looking like he is going to surrender in the tackle but, too close to the tackler, belatedly attempts a right foot step and Feldt’s desperate tackle loosens Milford’s grasp and the ball spills back. Hunt retrieves it but also finds Feldt in front of him. He slides to the ground. Watching now, it’s difficult to know if he is attempting to surrender in the tackle, prevent being pushed into touch, or scamper back towards the middle. Anyway, the ball is unsecured in one hand and is knocked down and retrieved by Feldt’s repeat effort.

Kyle Feldt. Remember the name.

The final set begins with exactly a minute to go. At no point do you seriously believe they can pull it off. Thurston’s first pass is high and fumbled but miraculously recovered by Linnett, a pass and an offload go to ground but bounce fortuitously. On the fourth, Thurston simply hands it to prop Matt Scott.

Then it’s the last. Thurston receives a tired pass from Jake Granville – not his first – that could easily have been knocked on. He looks to go down the blindside but turns back to the middle. Adam Blair, as he has done successfully throughout the contest, again tries to brutally shut him down but this time overreaches and with a shimmer and shrug, Thurston loses him.

Should Blair have tempered it just a little to ensure proper contact slowing the play to possibly seal the game? Perhaps.

As Thurston is threatening with his dummies and darts Blair desperately gets back to his feet and scampers into line on the blindside… the wrong side.

We all know fate has led us here. As early as the fifth minute Warren Smith had announced: ” A warning shot across the bows of the Broncos as to what they can expect on that right side when Thurston links up with (Michael) Morgan”.

Up to the final minute of the first half of the 2023 Grand Final it appeared all Penrith had to do for a third consecutive title was feed efficiently off Brisbane errors.

Finally, Thurston doesn’t have a powerful forward right there on his inside. McCullough comes straight at him but is pushed away and can only watch forlornly as the helmeted maestro, belatedly hit by a gallant Parker, sends Morgan on a diagonal run that draws several defenders.

One of them is Milford who, like Blair, has implemented Wayne Bennett’s defensive strategies to perfection by successfully shutting down several of Morgan’s right side raids and attempted offloads, as well as producing a one-on-one strip.

This time he is partially impeded by the other tackler Jack Reid and finds himself slightly behind Morgan grimly hanging onto this left shoulder and arm as Morgan’s right delivers a sublime pass putting Feldt over the try line as the siren is sounding; diluted and distorted by the shrieks of joy, despair and disbelief.

Fullback Darius Boyd, unable to get across to Feldt, goes to ground and slaps the turf assuming, like most, that Thurston will end it with his trademark conversion. Now on his back, his legs become entangled in the cables of the television cameraman rushing forward to film the Premier’s celebrations. A photographer, standing next to Boyd and looking for joyous footage, suddenly looks down and notices him thrashing about and chooses instead to record his desolation, and humiliation.

The missed conversion adds further status to this legendary game, but the overriding image is the one of poor Ben Hunt bowed and on his haunches after dropping the golden point kickoff. He knows it’s all over and that he has cost his team the premiership.

As the other Cowboys players celebrate the error, James Tamou, in a touching gesture, leans down to offer him some comfort.

Of course, if the Broncos had won it in golden point it would have been Thurston’s missed kick that defined the game’s legacy. Instead he wins the Clive Churchill (it could be argued Milford was the better player) not just through the drop goal which is a relatively easy one but because he keeps the ball alive during the last play and – through sheer will, a little luck, insane timing, and some sort of genius – delivers the victory.

But Thurston still revisits his missed conversion – the distinctive flat powerful curving kick for once collecting the upright and rebounding – with an anguished intake of breath, as if he’s still unaware of what is to come. And on hearing that the finish was Warren’s greatest moment he becomes visibly emotional. What a game.

The match – deemed the greatest of all time by many – will forever be there to watch for Thurston and his premiership teammates; a ghost to haunt Ben Hunt and his Broncos.

In writing this piece I was forced to confront, for the first time, the 2016 Grand Final between my team Melbourne, and Cronulla.

You see, I couldn’t bear watching it at the time, or in the eight years since. I documented the reason here:

https://www.theroar.com.au/2017/09/22/confessions-grand-final-coward/

Cronulla’s forwards and quick play the balls dominate the first half forcing consecutive line drop outs but can only produce an 8-0 halftime lead. What is telling is the toll such dominance is exacting: Jack Bird’s dead arm, Luke Lewis’s and Matt Prior’s battered faces, Paul Gallen’s rarely exhibited exhaustion after coming off for an interchange.

Then, early in the second half, Sosaia Feki is removed from the field following a brutal gang tackle. While he is hobbling along the sideline Prior, his head bandaged, is seen being escorted down the tunnel for a HIA.

Despite lack of possession and time in Cronulla’s half, Melbourne – as pristine looking, unhurried and unbattered as Penrith will look during their upcoming dynasty – is able to defend its line while inflicting serious physical damage on the Sharks while doing so.

Then, as is often the case, the referee’s whistle for a ‘relieving’ penalty changes the course of the game. Try to Jesse Bromwich.

In the 54th minute Jayson Bukuya, attempting to take down a rampaging Tohu Harris goes down with concussion.

Melbourne Storm’s forwards led by a young Christian Welch begin to dominate. However, a poor kick from Cameron Smith puts the ball over the dead ball line and the Sharks become reinvigorated, threatening Storm’s line repeatedly, only to be repelled.

Then Chad Townsend repeats Smith’s mistake, sending an over zealous kick across the dead ball line.

This time the error changes the course of the game. Two offloads by Welch to Smith see them switch seamlessly to the right side with Will Chambers – Suliasi Vunivalu is free on the edge – deciding to step inside to beat several tiring back pedaling defenders. to score.

One of those defenders is hooker Michael Ennis, a victim of the Storm in the 2012 decider. In awe of what Melbourne were capable of he admits after the game that he thought the try had sunk the Sharks.

Gus Gould agreed: “Well I can not believe this. The Melbourne Storm. They’ve got hearts as big as Phar Lap. The courage of their defence. The pressure they’ve been under. The environment they’ve had to walk into today”.

On the next set though Cronulla continue to attack with Jack Bird running hard into Smith and Dale Finucane who get tangled trying to roll him onto his back, drawing a penalty. Cronulla cross Storm’s twenty metre line on the fourth tackle. There have been few penalties in the game but now we have two in a minute to Cronulla. Welch , brilliant up to this point, makes an unnecessary tackle on Townsend who has already been taken around the legs by Smith, and collects him in the head.

The error is significant enough to live in the memory of one Storm supporter: “Remember Welch’s penalty in the 16 gf? (sic). Flop tackle in front of the posts after a player was already tackled and it was the 4th tackle? Sharks scored the next play. One of the stupidest penalties I’ve ever seen by a player. Welch has come a long way since …” he commented on a fan website.

On the fourth tackle of the new set Ennis turns the ball inside to Andrew Fifita who then proceeds to score one of the great match winning tries.

The dreadful prospect of having to watch slow motion replays of tries that cost your team a grand final is the reason I couldn’t bring myself to watch the game.

From the time Fifita receives the pass to the time he plants the ball down just three seconds pass. Slow motion reveals how special it is: the number of tacklers, the variation of tackles, and the necessary and manic re adjustments to them. But most significant is the relentless will of the tackled player.

The prop receives the pass in the middle, six metres out.

His first impact is on Munster. However, Munster’s footing and position are not set as has come out of the line to pressure Ennis, and Smith is delayed on his shift to the middle by the Sharks hooker’s quiver of a dummy to Gallen approaching on the blindside.

A still pic at that point suggests Fifita’s not getting to the line. Welch to his left, Cameron Munster in front, Dale Finucane in the middle of the posts and Tohu Harris hovering near the right upright. He accelerates off his left getting on the inside and slightly past the unstable Munster rendering his tackle ineffective as the big man’s momentum and drive means the fullback is simply being towed, hanging on for dear life. The usually brutal and technically sound Finucane goes in and under, hitting hard with his right shoulder but again Fifita’s momentum and greater height allow him to go over Funicane who, although still holding on, finds himself going to ground, his legs getting in the way of Munster who will be forced to disengage. .

Already, it seems, there may be too many cooks in the kitchen.

Cameron Smith, the head chef, has not yet arrived to try and set matters right.

In the previous tackle Welch has wrapped up and prevented the dangerous Prior from offloading. Instead of staying at marker with Smith he scampers across to the middle to ensure he’s there to prevent a try and rectify his penalty lapse.

Previously obscured by Munster and the enormous figure of Fifita, Welch’s head emerges. He moves in for a powerful tackle but instead his chest trampolines off the head of the falling Finucane. He attempts to reset but in the meantime Fifita, his legs not yet entrapped and still moving, powers again off his left and as he’s collapsing bulldozes Welch to the line just as the Storm captain arrives from the side. Initially Smith is finding it hard to commit to this assemblage of assimilating limbs and torsos, but as Fifita gets closer to the ground and is finally losing use of his feet, Smith’s able to perform his specialty of slowing the ball carrier’s momentum and turning the player onto his back.

However, before he has the prop fully adhered to the ground, Fifita, ball easily ensconced in his right hand, moves to plant it to his right but something stops him. He’s still slightly twisted the other way and Welch’s leg is on the line so perhaps he fears losing it. Or did he catch in the corner of his eye the introduction of the sixth actor in this slo mo wrestle for life?

Tohu Harris has been hanging out bracing himself for a possible offload by Fifita but finally commits and enters just inside the right post. If he remains there Fifita will lose the ball on his left foot. However, he sees the prop preparing to plant the ball over the other side and naturally attempts to slap the ball out of his hands. To do so, he has to lean over and balance on Welch’s shoulders who is seated on the ground struggling to blockade Fifita’s passage to the line. Understandably, Harris’s effort is clumsy. He tilts forward like a see saw on Welch’s head and shoulders and awkwardly and blindly swats at where he thinks the ball is. Before his follow-through is completed Fifita has already started to swing the ball back. Welch is unable to react. He still has Harris pressing down on his head and shoulders and now Harris’ left leg is airborne freeing space for Fifita’s legendary put-down.

Bunker footage from the scoring end shows Fifita bring the ball over in an arc. Munster’s puppy dog eyes follow it and identify the threat but trapped in the legs of Finucane at the end of a six foot four body he can only lean forward and impotently swat at the ball.

There’s one final scene. The serenest smartest man on the field still has a play. Lying across Fifita from the other side he knows what’s happening. He has to stretch his arm fully to dislodge the ball but can only place minimal pressure on the top of Fifita’s wrist as the ball touches the ground. It is only then that Smith manages to flick the ball from Fifita’s grasp.

Down 14-12 and with less than ten minutes remaining Melbourne change their style and tempo; keeping the ball alive and moving sideways looking for weaknesses in the Sharks line.

At 78 minutes Chambers again takes it on himself to score: sidesteps tackles, dummies to Kevin Proctor and sweeps wide, then kicks the ball along the sideline managing to slide past Ricky Leutele and then Gerard Beale. The footage switches to a closeup along the sideline showing him regathering the ball, miraculously remaining inside the field, and being tackled by fullback Ben Barba, followed by Beale and Leutele.

What we don’t see in the changed footage is the serious price Chambers and his team are paying for his extreme focus on his own exploits: Barba moving out to engage Chambers, allowing Cooper Cronk a 12 metre free passage to the line and surely the match winning try. Cronk is manically waving; his screams drowned by the screaming sea of blue, 49 years in the making.

If you dress a bad team in an impressive outfit the outfit quickly represents underachievement and bad culture. When you place an impressive team in an awful uniform it suddenly transforms into a symbol of success.

Black – with minimal embellishment for sponsorship – is the perfect colour for the current era of the Penrith Panthers. Brooding, brutal and relentless.

Yet, in the lollipop pink of their away jersey they still look brooding, brutal and relentless, but with an additional unnerving edge; the sort that explains why clowns have become figures of horror.

Up to the final minute of the first half of the 2023 Grand Final it appeared all Penrith had to do for a third consecutive title was feed efficiently off Brisbane errors.

Then comes the exhilaratingly insane period immediately after halftime when Ezra Mam scores three tries in ten minutes, providing  rare vision of Penrith looking vulnerable.

Mam’s first line-break has him sprinting to the corner with a quick Dylan Edwards closing rapidly. Unable to get hold of Mam as he plants the ball, the momentum sends the gallant Edwards slicing awkwardly over the sideline with the weight on his left arm until he becomes stationary and rights himself. Kneeling and out of breath he looks despondently across ground as the Broncos celebrate.

The replay of the most exhilarating try was caught superbly by the front-on camera. Walsh, his eyes planted on Nathan Cleary’s, performs his balletic leap and on landing puts an explosive left foot on the advancing halfback leaving him on the ground humiliated and still facing where Walsh came from. The Bronco fullback has advanced fifteen metres before Cleary is getting off the ground to watch the try unfold. Walsh has then put a step on Liam Martin, who also hits the ground, and immediately fends off Izack Tago. The Penrith centre, recovering from the shove, struggles to chase. When Walsh offloads to Mam he accelerates briefly but soon tapers off as Sunia Turuva takes over the doomed pursuit .

In the slow motion replay of Mam’s run, the despondent faces of Isaah Yeo, Cleary, Martin and Edwards are clearly seen in the background and slowly move out of focus as Mam extends his distance.

If they had produced this spectacular display of attacking football ten minutes later the Broncos would probably be Premiers.

But they didn’t. They didn’t score again.

Did they stop what they had been doing, or did Penrith stop them doing it? After they don’t score again immediately, an air of inevitability and normality gradually sets in.

Cleary, twice made a fool by quick stepping backs, keeps his composure. You can almost imagine him thinking: “Two tries five minutes apart, me scoring to win with a couple to go. Plenty of time”.

The first bad sign for the Broncos was at the 63rd minute when Brendan Piakura, freshly on the field, tackles a slipping Luke Garner. Piakura fails to fully commit to the tackle and assuming, incorrectly, the tackle is complete releases Garner who regathers his footing and continues his run with a disturbing lack of urgency from Piakura or the other defenders. In the next play Cleary dissects Capewell and Mam – replicating what the Broncos five eighth did to he and Yeo – and offloads to Leota for a try.

During the game Cleary was referred to as The Iceman. Certainly, he shares some of the traits of Michael Fassbender’s assassin in David Fincher’s brilliant film, The Killer: “It all comes down to preparation, attention to detail… keep calm, keep moving”.

Perhaps it’s more down to what Andy Murray said when he was trying explain what made him special: “My brain works differently to most people. Most people that get to the very, very top of anything are wired slightly differently”.

On Sunday, Melbourne will pose a similar attacking threat to Penrith as Brisbane did last year. Will the Storm be able to sustain it? Will Penrith be able to staunch it and find their way home again?

Hopefully this will be one of the great ones. Decided in the final moments through error, brilliance or sheer will.

Is the Storm in decline and does the game want them dead?

These are strange times. The pandemic, while ushering in fear and uncertainty, has also had a hand in fomenting unrest.

Grievances are taking hold. Revenge for perceived injustice and past emasculation is being exacted.

Revolt is in the air, even in rugby league.

But let’s go back twenty two years to the night of Friday 3 April 1998 when the story of the Melbourne Storm really began.

The undefeated Storm had to wait until round 4 before they got to play their first home game at Olympic Park that drew more than a passing interest from the 20,500 AFL-bred Melburnians who turned up.

The down market venue struggled to get thousands in on time and when they did many were forced to sit it out on the edge of the athletics track surrounding the playing field.

They kept returning because the Storm kept winning. The opposition, with the startled expressions of exotic wildlife at a wet market, would stumble out into the screeching vocals of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck and the mist and the frost and the booing.

Olympic Park came to be known as The Graveyard. But a graveyard is a quiet resting place for the departed. This crumbling concrete and corrugated iron roofed amphitheatre in a rugby league backwater was a slaughterhouse.

In an article I wrote on The Thrilla In Manila, one of the great heavyweights fights of all time between Ali and Frazier, a Roar respondent said he knew someone, seated behind Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos, who was spattered with blood and saliva from the bout whose mesmerising brutality summoned the sad decline of both fighters.

None of the novices in the Olympic Park crowd were covered in blood and saliva but the sound of the impacts during that first game left a lasting impression.

Taking the hard hits in rugby league

Melbourne’s response to their team shouldn’t have come as a surprise, really. Four years earlier across the road at the MCG a world record league crowd of over 87,000 attended the second State of Origin clash.

During that match Peter Sterling expressed the pride of traditional league fans at the response to their game in AFL land when he said to fellow commentator Ray Warren: “Gets the heart pumping doesn’t it Ray?”.

I believe in the two decades since that pride has turned to resentment.

On the competition’s return from the shutdown the rules were suddenly changed. The Peoples Chairman Peter V’Landys claimed he was responding to fan polls calling for a more attacking game. The reasons given were based on enhanced aesthetics and, to be fair, on viewing the game there is some validity to that.

However, I believe the prime reason for the sudden change to a single referee and the six again rule is testament to the greatness of the Melbourne Storm. They had to change the rules to bring down an empire.
And I’m sure it was hoped that their fellow superpower, the similarly defence oriented Roosters, would crumble beside them.

And on the back of a recommendation and dossier by a certain former club chairman, a vehement critic of the Storm, the NRL commissioned a report on the ‘blight’ of wrestling in the game.

The results failed to back up those assumptions. It found less than 10% of tackles and 4% of play-the-balls involved any form of wrestling and that no club performed such tackles more than any other.

To further assuage the traditionalists, V’Landys ignored the success of the Melbourne Storm and its contribution to the game when discussing the location of a new team: “No good spending a lot of money in rusted-on AFL states. You want to go to the states that have the population that loves the game.”

You won’t find supporters who love the game more than those who follow the Storm Pete. The membership numbers and the game and television audiences are proof of that.

The only rust here was on the old Olympic Park turnstiles which ushered in a new compelling era for your game. They have since been replaced by electronic ones and the Storm fans continue to pass through.

There has been evidence of a decline. It looked like the party was over just three years in after the departure of players and inaugural coach Chris Anderson. They failed to make the finals in 2001, and in 2002 when the  laconic teenager Cameron Smith turned up.

The following year saw the arrival of a coach, who had learned under the greatest at the time, and a little punk called Billy Slater.

Then, in 2014, everything aligned with the recruitment of another boyishly named nobody in Cooper Cronk.

A trio of Queensland youngsters whose abilities and superhuman work ethics would forever haunt the rest of the competition, but especially the club that let them by.

Four consecutive grand final appearances, three consecutive minor premierships and two premierships followed before THAT day arrived 22 April 2010 when David Gallop announced THOSE penalties for systematic breaches of the salary cap of 3.7 million over 5 years.

The erroneous assumption that Gallop and many understandably angry fans made at the time was that the Storm had ‘bought’ themselves success. Now while this isn’t an excuse for the rorting, they didn’t – and still haven’t – bought any star players during the Bellamy era.

Even after the departures of Cronk and Slater the club looked inwards. It didn’t work out for Brodie Croft so they turned to a fullback Jahrome Hughes who has slowly but surely become a potent number seven. And Slater’s replacement, the sinewy “third string” Tigers reject, Ryan Papenhuysen will most likely be making his Origin debut after only one full NRL season.

As Bellamy has lamented from the start, the club is outside the game’s heartland and is forced into luring youngsters and rejects from there and turning them into champions only to see the other clubs come poaching, and yet it doesn’t receive any compensation or salary cap concessions.

The team’s dominance was seen to be due to the fortuitous recruitment and illegal retention of the Big Four.

The first major victim of the salary cap scandal was the great Greg Inglis who went on to help the Rabbitohs win a title with his former Storm assistant Michael Maquire as coach. Then one of the great half backs of the modern era left … for love, but in so doing helped another club win consecutive premierships. Then the greatest fullback of all time retired to a chorus of boos and abuse.

One recent TV skit by Nathan Hindmarsh and Bryan Fletcher, a time-travel piece, opens with:-

The year is 2060… and Cameron Smith [cut to an image of a grey haired and bearded Storm captain] is playing his 63rd [actually it would be his 59th] season for the Melbourne Storm”. We then see three versions of Hindmarsh – a current day, a middle aged, and a sickly elderly one – seated together on a couch. One of them picks up the remote and asks: “Time for some league boys?”. One replies: “As long it’s not a rerun of the 2009 Grand Final.” Another mutters: “F…ing Melbourne Storm!” and the third follows with: “F…ing cheating bastards!”

It’s been a running gag among his contemporaries since Hindmarsh’s retirement that the 330 game Parramatta great failed to win a premiership. Despite his good natured response to the jibes (and the fact that Parramatta are now officially cheats also), the aforementioned 2009 Grand Final loss to a team later found to be rorting the salary cap must burn deeply.

Although witty and lighthearted the skit expresses the exasperation, if not underlying contempt, for the way the Storm have achieved their seemingly never ending success. Also significant is its identification of Smith, the greatest player of all time according to Andrew Johns, as the lynch-pin of the club’s modern reign.

Most supporters would gladly have the family pet Cavoodle put down if it would get Cameron Smith to their club yet they still view him as the embodiment of arrogance, sly diplomacy and questionable morality.

In response to the incessant booing before, during and after his final game in the 2018 grand final loss to the Roosters, Billy Slater could have been excused for replying: “You’ve just won the competition, with the help of our great former halfback, and one of the greatest players of all time is retiring and will no longer cause you palpitations playing against your club and State, so give me some respect you lousy b——s!”

Instead, realising the nature of fan passion, Slater responded with: “If Wally Lewis can cop boos, I’ll be OK with it.”
I think many in the media have also had a gutful of the Storm.
There are at least two journalists who regularly ooze contempt for the club. It began with the salary cap and the use of wrestling and the supposed “dark arts of jiu jitsu” and now focuses on Cameron Smith’s influence on referees.
And however hard he may try, Greg Alexander (“Was there a Storm hand in there, I think there was …. surely that was a Melbourne forward pass!”) just can’t hide his bias against the team.

Phil Gould – with the fearsome features of Jabba The Hutt and the wisdom of Yoda – issues intense monologues on the nature of the game. A former NSW State of Origin winning coach who had witnessed the salary cap rorting and yet still wrote the foreword to Craig Bellamy’s 2013 autobiography Home Truths:-

“Melbourne Storm is everything you want your football team to be. They take kids, develop and nurture them, and turn them into champions. Every club would like to do that.”

These days, however, he has become more critical or simply tired of their influence on the game hence his increasingly unenthusiastic, almost biased, commentary of their matches.

On Jahrome Hughes’ equalising try off an error against the Roosters in Round 8, compare Andrew John’s comments with those of Gould:-

Johns: “They’re just an incredible club. Think of the legends they’ve lost. Other teams lose legends in certain positions and they struggle for years. This club just keeps powering on”.

Gould: “Another fortunate try for the Storm”.

Despite winning the opening games in two of the toughest road trips against Manly and Cronulla, the Storm were disappointing in their Round 3 loss to the then premiership favourites, an impressive Canberra.
Gould had this to say: “They [Storm] are not the side they were. It’s been an incremental decline in them over the years. “I don’t see a premiership in them this year, I don’t even really see a top four”

Incremental decline? They were last year’s minor premiers by three games and a massive points differential and the same two years before that when they won the premiership at a canter. Ten minutes from the 2018 regular season ending it looked they had that minor premiership sewn up too before the Roosters steamrolled Parramatta.

Understandably many were hostile towards the Victorian team on its arrival at a time other clubs were facing extinction or amalgamation.

But many good judges saw the Storm’s entry as a bit of a joke: a band of Super League leftovers and eager youngsters with an ageing decaying former star as captain by the name of Lazarus (but, unlike his namesake, was deemed beyond resurrecting).

Even the locals were sceptical about the club’s prospects. However their success was immediate. Those who had previously been giggling into their Tooheys at the prospect of playing a motley crew thrown together in a pathetic attempt to make the game a national one couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

Suddenly the narrative changed to one of invasion sponsored by News Ltd. It became the story of cultural appropriation of the game.

It’s said the Storm introduced the wrestle. What’s wrong with introducing something? There is strong evidence that Wayne Bennett introduced it but Bellamy perfected it.

Everyone says how great the game was before the Storm became dominant. I don’t agree. Perhaps viewing themselves as outsiders with something to prove they saw the game as a novice might: tackled players wobbling and thrashing about on the ground like suffocating fish in order to milk penalties and stiff-arm cheap-shot tackles.

I believe the game has become more aesthetic. Organised defences and perfectly executed shoulder on shoulder, shoulder on hip tackles.

And has it really been an empire? Four premierships (two stripped) from eight grand finals. Went very close in 2006 and 2016. Were never in it in 2008 and 2018. Didn’t make the Big One after winning the minor premierships in 2011 and 2019. Seven minor premierships (three stripped).

But the success of a team can be gauged on its influence on other clubs’ eagerness to import a winning culture. At the start of the season six of the NRL coaches were former Storm assistants.

Also, it doesn’t take long to forget that a player used to be at another club. I watched the Cowboys in one of their games and realised they had four former Storm players in the team. Former premiership players Jordan McLean and Justin O’Neill, Ben Hampton and young star Scott Drinkwater.

When Ryan Papenhuysen kicked that long range drop goal to level the scores against the Roosters there was a chap behind the posts with a towel and water bottle, his head following the ball’s curving trajectory willing it to miss. It was Matt King. The former garbo and Cronulla reserve team bench warmer who the Storm picked up and made a star.

Nick Politis admitted he bought Cooper Cronk to win the competition and to use him – just as he intends to use Sonny Bill Williams – as a coach and mentor after retirement.

Both Luke Keary and James Tedesco have attributed their rise to superstardom to the former Storm orchestrator.

Brisbane, their grand final vanquishers of 2006, have been a rabble ever since against Melbourne. Manly, the great rival of Storm’s modern era, and Cronulla have come and gone as genuine premiership contenders. And that’s no criticism; it’s a tough relentless competition.

So how have Melbourne remained at the pinnacle?

It’s exhausting being at the top. I watch other games and they are rarely at the same intensity as those involving Melbourne. Every side – those on the rise wanting to prove their premiership credentials and those at the bottom with no prospect of a finals berth in the foreseeable future – play at grand final intensity against them.

Titans and Queensland prop Jarrod Wallace recently commented that beating Melbourne in a regular season game back in 2017 was his most memorable victory in club football.

For all his success in league and boxing, Anthony Mundine, by his own admission, remains haunted by the Storm and his mistake in that 1999 Grand Final.

Australian writer Robert Dessaix wrote: “Can there be a more important word than ‘home’ to make your own in the English language? “Love” I suppose, although I wonder sometimes if they might amount to much the same thing”

Virtually no one at the Storm hails from here. For the several New Zealanders it’s at least closer to home than Sydney. They’re closer knit for being outsiders. And with the current forced cohabitation in Queensland it seems, if club footage is anything to go by, they have become even closer.

The necessity of having to create a home for its recruits is shared by Canberra, who have an equally dreadful climate and unwelcome culture for kids spawned on the beaches of Sydney and Queensland.

On the excellent but now defunct all-female host show League Life, Ricky Stuart was asked how difficult it was to attract young players from places like Bondi, Manly and Cronulla to the bureaucratic icy wasteland of the nation’s capital. With his usual surliness Stuart refused to concede the disadvantages of his location and instead repeated: “They’ll play for me!”

Fed up with potential recruits deciding to stay home or back-flipping on deals he came up with the brilliant idea of summoning a squadron of forwards from the north of England used to ordinary weather. I assume he didn’t tell them that despite being half way to Sydney, Canberra is actually colder than Melbourne; or that training in Wigan and Hull during the middle of summer is preferable to training in Canberra in mid winter.

Cameron Munster after a game commented: “We miss Melbourne. That’s our home and we’ll never forget what Victoria has done for us as a club”.

A ‘V’ with the words ‘Our home, Victoria’ now has a permanent place on the front of the jersey. I think that should be a source of pride for the game.

So what are the Storm’s secrets?

All recruits, Brenko Lee being the latest, say the same thing: meticulous preparation, hard work and gaining self belief. And without exception, whether they’ve been at other clubs or believed they were never going to get to play NRL, they mention their pride at being given a Storm jersey.

The great clubs have no diseased segments. Everyone works to the best of their ability (without admitting to themselves they’ve achieved their best) towards the same goal which is success. Successful culture is about winning but it also has the more endearing aspects of mateship and passion. It’s extremely difficult to pull that off, even with a financial advantage which the Storm, being a one city (albeit an AFL one) team, and the Roosters whose board is stacked with business gurus who can legally exploit the third party system, certainly have.

For the Storm, I’m sure the level of success will end, eventually. The one failing so far has been the lack of promotion of Victorian talent to the elite level. Without an AFL style draft this may be the club’s eventual undoing.

Soon they bid farewell to three more players they made into stars, as Josh Addo-Carr, Suliasi Vunivalu and Tino Faasuamaleaui, return home and/or take advantage of their enhanced market values.

After the retirement of Bellamy and Smith will promising youngsters and rejects still travel south in the belief they will be coached by the best?

Whether the changes this club have brought to rugby league are good bad or ugly, or a combination of the three will depend on your perspective. Some judgements will be measured, others will be tainted with envy and resentment, or blind passion for the club.

When the northern border is reopened I wonder if the soon to be completed bronze statues of Cameron Smith and Billy Slater will, as is consistent with the mood of the times, be pulled down by a mob chanting “Cheats and Grubs!” and hurled into the sludge lined shallows of the Yarra River.

Or strung up from the rafters of AAMI Park as a warning to Victorians, who dare to excel at a sport that’s not their own.

I appreciate not everyone wants the Storm dead; rather that they just become an ordinary team, for a little while at least. I can understand that.

To the NRL, I thank you for allowing the great game to take hold down here. I realise it’s been controversial and that for many the experiment has been too successful.

But it has been a compelling time. The story of the Melbourne Storm is one of the great ones in Australian sport.

Published on The Roar

Are the Storm in decline and does the game want them dead?

A Tale of Two Cities: A Preview Of The 2018 NRL Grand Final

Many years ago my father was offered a job in Sydney.

No one in the family wanted to go except me, transfixed as I was by the blue harbour, the multi coloured taxis, the vibrant chaos of the place, the light and warmth. The sheer Australianness of it.

Then someone mentioned they didn’t play Aussie rules there. My love and affinity for that game, one I was excelling at, changed my mind. Ironically it’s the Sydney game I follow now.

And tonight, this grand final promises to be one of the code’s great ones.

An NRL official lamented that the Sharks and Rabbitohs weren’t playing because that game would have generated more revenue.

Perhaps, but this game is between the two best sides. The powerhouses (yes, a cold soulless description and the spectre of salary cap rorting and unbridled poaching hangs over the Storm and Roosters respectively) of the competition.

And a contest between the best is what a grand final is about.

The strange thing about successful people in all endeavours is – despite opinions about compromised character and the often awfully selfish means of achieving success – other people are drawn to them. They can’t help watching.

The production designer of the film Death in Brunswick made this poignant remark: “It’s about characters who normally don’t get their stories told. Because they’re losers. And most people are losers you know, in some way or another. That’s a very real thing.”

Us losers will be watching tonight and the runner up technically will be a loser but as Greg Norman once remarked ; ” I’m a winner. I just didn’t win today”.

And failure brings us to Craig Bellamy and Trent Robinson.

Bellamy, the player, was there when the Raiders established themselves but was left out of the 1989 premiership side. He was in the 1990 grand final winning team but you wouldn’t know it. Robinson played a mere 4 games at the top level but was always asking questions. Like most great coaches these two, lacking nature’s physical gifts, sought answers.

Their rivalry is in its infancy: 7-4 to Bellamy. I wonder if this game will mark the beginning of a rivalry the equal of the Storm and Broncos; and the Roosters and Rabbitohs.

Robinson had immediate success taking the Roosters from 13th to the premiership in his first year . Bellamy’s rise to greatness (5th, 6th, 6th, minor premiership, premiership) was a more gradual process as he moulded his disparate group of promising youngsters and rejuvenated rejects into a formidable outfit.

In the coach’s box Robinson is, outwardly at least, the most relaxed. He looks like a man who knows he has the players but is focused on how to utilise them. Bellamy – whether the Storm is winning or not – is constantly ill at ease, mumbling to himself, shouting and darting to the back of the stall while his assistants, seemingly unaffected by the antics of their eccentric boss, remain focused on the game.

But they are both thinkers. More importantly their players respect their knowledge ideas and authority. They care for their players and the players play for them.

In an enlightening interview by Peter Sterling in 2016 I learned that Robinson was not your typical NRL coach. Firstly he is a Francophile (“I love France”) after spending time at Toulouse Qlympique as a player and coaching the Catalans Dragons. More importantly he is sensitive and articulate: “Coming home after Monday’s loss you don’t stop thinking about it and then you walk in the door and you see the kids and that light comes back into you a bit”.

You feel he has sacrificed other things of immense interest to him in order to excel at what he does now. “When you become a football coach you narrow your interests. I was a much more interesting guy 10 years ago than I am now.”

With Bellamy you sense he can’t, or wouldn’t, do anything else.

In the week of the preliminary final Bellamy strolled next door to address the Collingwood players before their clash with premiership favourites Richmond. Nathan Buckley acknowledged the generosity of the gesture in view of the Storm’s upcoming match against arch nemesis Cronulla and said the aura that success brings and Bellamy’s message expressing his deceptively simple ethos of hard work (“the harder you work, the luckier you get”) and “playing your role” transfixed his players and was significant in propelling Collingwood into the grand final.

The Storm is a phenomenon. The greatest team of the past decade and more, one of the greatest of all time has not bought a single star player under Bellamy. Over 15 years of sustained success and dominance in a city without an established rugby league culture, an outpost. That must be unprecedented in the history of professional sport.

Bellamy took over what appeared to be a waning unsustainable enterprise – spent from the exhilaration of winning a premiership too early in only their second year in the most memorable and dramatic decider the code had seen.

The Roosters with the formidable business interests and connections of its long term chairman Nick Politis have used what Melbourne CEO Dave Donaghy politely termed “a different model” of recruitment ie attracting potential premiership winning stars with very attractive – but salary cap compliant – third party deals (apparently Cronk was finally lured by an opportunity of studying at Harvard).

But it hasn’t all been about blatant poaching and financial advantage. There have been the hardworking loyal mainstays like Anthony Minichello, Jake Friend. Boyd Cordner Mitch Aubusson… and Mitchell Pearce.

What are the thoughts of Mitchell Pearce with his former team in the grand final? Does he believe he could have got them there without Cronk?

It wasn’t, I’m sure, the intention of the Roosters to be rid of Pearce. They needed the final piece to a Premiership jigsaw – and that was structure, composure, meticulous attention to detail. The instinctive attacking backs “play what was in front of them” but coming up against a defensive fortress like Melbourne where there are rarely any gaps in front of you the dynamics alter. Unsuccessful attacking raids can be as tiring as repeat defensive sets, and more demoralising.

I feel sorry for him. An excellent player often blamed for Origin losses. But he was up against the greatest spine that will ever play the game. Nathan Cleary will never face that.

Cronk is not quite the player he was at the Storm. Whether that’s the absence of Slater sniffing about for a sublime no-look pass, age, the mellowing of temperament that comes with marriage and fatherhood, different coaching strategies or culture we won’t know unless someone asks him for the truth. And would Cronk truthfully respond to the question: What club do you feel more at home at?”

Robert Dessaix wrote “Can there be a more important word than ‘home’ to make your own in the English language? “Love” I suppose, although I wonder sometimes if they might amount to much the same thing”

This week Cameron Smith explained: “We’re all from interstate, or from overseas somewhere, all down there together just looking after ourselves”.

“Home” has been a serious issue for the Storm. They’ve been forced to steal youngsters from their beds in the dead of night – the parents and oblivious both to the possibility of their sons leaving them and of the child’s potential for sporting greatness.

Equally significant though has been the resurrection of aging forwards and those deemed plodding hacks by their former clubs.

It’s been unseasonably cold here in Melbourne.

Yes – too cold for too long – even for this town’s drear frigid climate. It’s a place where a Storm fan lies in bed – the window shuddering with the powerful freezing southerlies thinking how long can we keep players brought up in northerly climes.

Prodigies like Curtis Scott, Brandon Smith, Brodie Croft and Scott Drinkwater bunk down together. Instagram and Storm videos show they are mere boys. Bare walls, piles of unwashed clothes. They don’t even know who they are yet. Scott has his framed premiership jersey resting against the bedroom wall. They’re humble and unassuming despite playing in one of the greatest sides of all time and destined for greatness if the dynasty is to continue.

And there is the odd couple (perhaps orchestrated by Bellamy) of Business graduate Christian Welch and North Queensland larrikin Cameron Munster.

For those players with family it has been the presence of wives and young children at the games.

Later with success, some are lured back home for money and to be with family.

Perhaps when more Victorians play at the elite level and miss home the Storm can lure them back like Kenneth Williams was from a hot sojourn in Crete: “I should be glad to get back to my own country… the delight of being able to be cool”

Also the problem of having such dominant figures like Smith, Cronk and Slater means players search elsewhere for greater opportunities and responsibilities.

Gareth Widdop played in the 2012 premiership but I think he felt a bit like Mike Collins during the moon landing. While Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin danced on the lunar surface and were being praised to high heaven by President Nixon poor Mike was stuck in the command module on the other side of the moon. And just as Armstrong was delivering his famous line: “That’s one small step … Mike was heard on the radio asking: “How’s it going’?

On Tuesday night there was the chill factor of Slater’s looming Grand Final suspension and things felt grim.

At 8.45 when news of Slater’s reprieve came through I suddenly found myself in a balmy paradise. One of the great grand final exponents was going to play his last game in the quest for back to back premierships.

Cooper Cronk’s injury – what a horrible thing fate is: a warrior like Cronk – a stationary vulnerable target for late hits from stampeding forwards twenty to thirty kilograms heavier than himself his whole decorated career plays an entire season but finally succumbs, to miss out on a Grand Final. Not that he will have any self pity: he has played in seven already.

If he recovers and plays I’m sure he would prefer to play against an opponent he despises than one he loves and respects. The Roosters hierarchy would have privately hoped it would not come to this. Their star recruit spawned in the Melbourne culture and having to defeat it. Lose and the ploy has failed. Win and it will always be said you stole success.

“Every time a friend succeeds something inside me dies”, wrote Gore Vidal.

Will it be Cooper Cronk or Billy Slater who dies a little inside as their close companion lifts the Premiership trophy?

https://www.theroar.com.au/2018/09/30/a-tale-of-two-cities/