Filling The Gap

In the wake of the heartbreaking Kiwis’ 2006 Tri-Nations loss to Australia, three veterans of New Zealand rugby league announced their international retirements. Nigel Vagana, Stacey Jones, and captain Ruben Wiki ended their international careers with a combined total of 139 tests between them. Wiki’s personal haul of 55 caps is a world record, and Vagana holds the New Zealand record for most international tries with a total of 19.

But it is Jones, affectionately known as The Little General, who will be missed the most. Many fans and media are concerned with the veritable abyss of talent and experience left by Jones’ departure, but this is not the first time New Zealand rugby league has experienced a sudden loss of a seasoned player in the halves.

The last time was in 1995 when New Zealand had just completed a somewhat unconvincing victory over Papua New Guinea with a 22-6 score line that flattered the Kiwis. This second and final group match at what is known as the Centenary Cup – the World Cup that was held exactly one hundred years after rugby league itself was born – allowed the team to progress through to the semi-finals against tournament favourites Australia.

The team was being guided around by legendary halfback Gary Freeman, who at the time held the record for the most international caps by a New Zealander, with an impressive 46 matches under his belt. He also held the world record for the most consecutive test appearances with a tally of 37, and the most caps as Kiwis captain, with 19.

Despite this, however, New Zealand had struggled in their two group matches. Their weak showing against Papua New Guinea had followed a 25-24 victory over Tonga that had only been decided by a Matthew Ridge drop goal in the dying moments. Even so, it came as a shock to many when coach Frank Endacott dumped Freeman from the side and promoted NRL rookie Stacey Jones to commandeer the side against the reigning world champions.

The teenager performed admirably, pulling New Zealand back from 20-6 down to equalise with only two minutes remaining in the match. Missed opportunities were costly, however, and Australia went on to win 30-20 after twenty minutes of extra time. Even so, an international star had been born.

And now, as Jones hangs up his black and white boots for not the first but probably the last time, let us examine his potential heirs…

Nathan Fien – Despite the controversy of ‘Grannygate’, Fien is likely to be back in the black and white once he qualifies through residency. However, he has played for both club and country in the hooking role, so becoming the Kiwis halfback is highly unlikely.

Lance Hohaia – Unable to cement a starting position for the Warriors, and being shifted between hooker and centre when he does eventually take the field, Hohaia remains a dark horse to take Jones’ place.

Thomas Leuluai – Despite a solid international debut in 2003, Leuluai has escaped the gaze of the selectors since his sixth appearance in the black and white. His skills continue to improve, but his Northern hemisphere location counts against him.

Benji Marshall – Somewhat injury prone and earmarked for the five-eighth position, moving Marshall to halfback would only create other gaps elsewhere.

Robbie Paul – At thirty years of age and rapidly approaching the end of his career, Paul is unlikely to still be playing by the time of the 2008 World Cup, where an established international will be needed.

Marcus Perenara – A somewhat forgotten player, Perenara performed brilliantly in the 2006 Premier League final, proving the difference as Parramatta defeated Newtown 20-19 in extra time. However, a regular first grade position will be needed before he is ready for international football.

Ben Roberts – A Bulldogs rookie with only six first grade matches under his belt, Roberts may prove to be in contention after a solid NRL season in 2007. A noted goal kicker, Roberts may also be able to kill two Kiwi birds with the one stone.

Jeremy Smith – Another rookie and Gary Freeman’s pick for the vacant halfback position, Smith’s move to the Rabbitohs may prove to be a masterstroke as he plays alongside experienced Kiwis in Roy Asotasi and David Kidwell.

Motu Tony – A versatile player who can play anywhere in the backline, Tony’s apparent inability to shake off the ‘utility’ tag and being based in England may count against him.

Sources:
http://groups.msn.com/PNGKumuls/
www.nzherald.co.nz
www.playtheball.com
www.rleague.com
www.sportal.com.au/league.asp?i=news&id=8270
www.wikipedia.org
www2.hunterlink.net.au/~maajjs/res/wcup1995.htm

***Published in Issue One of Super League Magazine, 2007***

Ineligible Guy

Ineligible Guy [Don McLean feat. D. Taylor]

The Nathan Fien debacle has been the talk of the Kiwis’ Tri-Nations campaign of 2006. Much has been discussed from both sides, including Selwyn Bennett’s famed “a grandmother and a great-grandmother are the same thing” defence – something akin to that of the Wookiee defence, no doubt. When I sat down with Don McLean the other day, he really felt we needed to write a song about it. Unfortunately, he had lost his guitar tuner, so we had to take his only hit song and rearrange the lyrics…

– D. Taylor, backstage, November 2006

To the theme of ‘American Pie’ by Don McLean.

VERSE:

Not so long ago

Nathan Fien put up his hand

To represent the black and white

A relative from Wanganui

Earned the call up from coach Bluey

And management said that was alright

But the rules said something other

The woman wasn’t his grandmother

The NZRL, they knew this

But they failed to construe this

The media, they raised the question

The Kiwis hid their indiscretion

Avoiding a full confession

T'was the day the Kiwis lied

CHORUS:

And I was thinkin’

Why why, the rules Bennett defied?

First he wrote them, then he broke them

Then he openly lied

He risked our title, putting it on the line

Vainly trying to save his own hide

Vainly trying to save his own hide

VERSE:

The Kiwis made a big mistake

While looking for a makeshift rake

And the Queensland-born lad they chose to take

They took the player by his word

And their defence was just absurd

Leaving Kiwi fans in their wake

Now Nathan Fien, he wasn’t valid

His selection made many pallid

The Aussies made a query

And were told “Oh, quite contrary!”

Selwyn Bennett played the fool

Misinterpreting his own rule

The NZRL lost the duel

Our integrity died

CHORUS:

Fat lady singin’

Bye bye, Fien, ineligible guy

Tried to fake it, didn't make it

And it just didn't fly

So we lost our points, and a lot of our pride

While all regrets Bennett denied

All regrets Bennett denied

VERSE:

The RLIF, they went to task

Because they were not afraid to ask

Why management was hiding behind a mask

We were found guilty by the board

And Bennett duly fell on his sword

In last year’s glory we could no longer bask

So they erased the points from our win

And punished us for our foolish sin

They sent Nathan Fien away

The Aussie hooker couldn’t stay

So we were left to fight alone

As Fien and Bennett were disowned

To defend our earned Tri-Nations throne

And roar a strong war cry

CHORUS:

The Kiwis screamin’

“My, my, it’s time to arise

Time for standing, now we’re banding

To the Aussies’ demise

Let’s make them bear the brunt of our mighty ire

Making amends for those up high

Making amends for those up high”

VERSE:

Well Nathan Fien, yeah, he'll be back

Wearing his chosen white and black

And adding starch to our attack

But for now we’ve got to fight this war

And fight like we’ve never fought before

To get international league back on track

They’ll do the talking on the field

Until the victory has been sealed

They’ll fight on with ambition

And beat their foes into submission

And the players I view as the best

Wiki, Jones, and all the rest

Will make the Kangaroos regret

The day the Kiwis lied

CHORUS:

And we were thinkin’

Why why, the rules Bennett defied?

First he wrote them, then he broke them

Then he openly lied

He risked our title, putting it on the line

Vainly trying to save his own hide

Vainly trying to save his own hide

Fat lady singin’

Bye bye, Fien, ineligible guy

Tried to fake it, didn't make it

And it just didn't fly

So we lost our points, and a lot of our pride

While all regrets Bennett denied

All regrets Bennett denied

The Kiwis screamin’

“My, my, it’s time to arise

Time for standing, now we’re banding

To the Aussies’ demise

Let’s make them bear the brunt of our mighty ire

Making amends for those up high

Making amends for those up high”

Copyright 2006 Kickoff Records. Available at all bad music stores, and one or two good ones may have been foolish enough to put it on their shelves, too.

What Are The Odds?

Soaking wet and cold from the wind and rain that so frequently accompany an Auckland winter, I watch as the two teams leave the field for the halftime break. I applaud my team before returning to the seat that I have been fortunate enough to call my own for the last eight years. Halftime entertainment has never really appealed to me, but occasionally a few balls are kicked into the stands, and I've never been one to turn down the opportunity to get something for free.

On this particular occasion, one of the balls actually starts heading directly for me. I can hardly believe my luck - in all the years of supporting my team, I have never had such a realistic chance at winning a prize. Everything around me morphs into slow motion and the noise of my fellow fans grow dull as I rise up out of my seat, the ball approaching, gently gliding and spiralling towards my outstretched hands. And then, just as it arcs back down towards my waiting arms, it is plucked out of the air by my vertically inferior wife who has been sitting in the seat to the very left of my own.

I am, of course, happy for her, although I can't hide the fact that I was so close and yet so far. And to make matters worse, this feat is repeated at the very next game! This time, however, it isn't my wife who catches the ball, but my father - the same man who only two years earlier suffered a double heart attack!

Instinctively, my gaze lifts to the skies, as if to question the very heavens about such bad luck. They smile back in a hollow manner, the clouds themselves almost shifting to form the words “tough luck, kid”.

But of course, the rugby league gods don't even exist...right?

Whether or not they do, superstition plays a major part in the thirteen man sport. Sometimes it takes the form of a lucky item, and often as a specific method of preparation. Sporting ‘gods’, ‘hoodoos’, and ‘bogey teams’ are quickly introduced as part of the ever present psychological battle that wages both on and off the field within the mind of every player in every team.

For example, Warriors rookie Grant Rovelli is always careful to ensure he has his favourite towel, adorned with the image of a tiger, with him in the changing rooms before every match. Comparatively, Penrith halfback Craig Gower has a five minute nap before directing his impressive forward pack and striking fear into the opposition.

Lesley Vainikolo takes a very different approach: "I have quite a strict pre-match ritual which I do before every game," says the Bradford Bulls winger. "I read three passages from the Bible. I then place it on my jersey before saying a prayer. I then kiss the Bible and put on my jersey. I've been doing that for the past three years."

Whether the towel, brief rest, or pieces of scripture actually affect a player's ability is debatable. But one thing is clear - they all make the buildup that much more important to the individual involved.

According to New York-based sports psychologist Richard Lustberg, such unorthodox methods of preparation are a coping mechanism designed by athletes in their eagerness to succeed.

“Athletes begin to believe, and want to believe, that their particular routine is enhancing their performance,” says Lustberg. “In reality, it’s probably just practice and confidence that’s making them perform better.”

Lesley Vainikolo shares the same view: “My faith is very important to me and it gives me confidence when I'm out on the pitch.”

And so, it would seem, rugby league coaches would do well to embrace such practices, such as when former Warriors coach Daniel Anderson who, while not a religious man himself, went to church with several of his Polynesian players in an open endorsement of their beliefs. So Craig Gower’s naps should be encouraged, along with fellow Panther Rhys Wesser’s habit of yelling before a match, because anything that builds a player’s confidence – and therefore increases the quality of football on the field – makes for a more exciting contest and a greater advertisement for the game.

My head lowers to a normal level, and I watch as the two teams return to the field. The rugby league ‘gods’ may not exist, but their influence is very real indeed.

If only they could help me catch a ball!

Sources:
“Bradford’s Volcano Talks Rugby League”, Lesley Vainikolo, http://www.bbc.co.uk/, 6 September 2005
“Some Lucky Charms Are Magically Delicious”, Jason Carney, http://www.psychologyofsports.com/
“Onward Christian Soldiers”, http://www.smh.com.au/, Jessica Halloran. 30 April 2005

***Published in Issue One of Super League Magazine, 2007***

Under Pressure

Pressure pushing down on me
Pressing down on you
No man ask for

John Deacon’s all too familiar bass line emanates from the stereo speakers, accompanied by the snapping of fingers and the addition of piano chords. The same riff that was once used by Vanilla Ice spreads effortlessly throughout the room as I contemplate the reality that any mathematical chances of my rugby league team making the finals series are no longer a reality.
“When we long for life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure.” – Peter Marshall

Under pressure that brings a building down
Splits a family in two
Puts people on streets

As the National Rugby League season draws to an end for the Warriors – and, truth be told, it was already over for a few less fortunate clubs – the final positions that each team will ultimately find itself in slowly becomes apparent. The twenty-six round game of musical chairs is finally nearing its end, and no song would make a more appropriate theme than that of the 1981 hit Under Pressure, performed by Queen and David Bowie – particularly with the upcoming finals series looming out of the approaching shadows of time.
"Pressure is a word that is misused in our vocabulary. When you start thinking of pressure, it's because you've started to think of failure." – Tommy Lasorda

It's the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming “Let me out!”

For some teams, the pressure valve has already been released. With either no way to make the finals or no way to miss them, these teams are free to experiment if they wish to, and can play without the burden of do-or-die matches that could either make or break their season. This reality can transform even the weakest teams into formidable opponents.
“And there’s nothing more dangerous / than a man with nothing to lose / nothing to live for / and nothing to prove.” – ‘I Can See Now’, Dead Can Dance

Chippin' around - kick my brains around the floor
These are the days it never rains but it pours

But for the teams that remain in the pressure cooker, the opportunity to soar even higher, and to ultimately claim the NRL Trophy – as well as the otherwise unattainable glory that a Premiership brings – remains intact. How they cope with the stress of finals football will be crucial. Will they hold firm? Or will they, like so many before them, fall away, to be left with nothing but their own regrets and memories?
“A diamond is a chunk of coal that is made good under pressure." – Henry Kissinger

It's the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming “Let me out!”

Having been backed into a corner, and with their backs against the Premiership wall, some teams will fight even harder than ever before. Indeed, for certain clubs, the added importance of each match will only cause their performance to improve; for new heights of playing prowess to be reached. It is these groups of players who will eventually rise above the rest.
"No matter how tough, no matter what kind of outside pressure, no matter how many bad breaks along the way, I must keep my sights on the final goal, to win, win, win -- and with more love and passion than the world has ever witnessed in any performance." – Billie Jean King

Insanity laughs under pressure we're breaking
Can't we give ourselves one more chance?

The season is nearly over. The chance to claim the NRL Trophy is within the grasp of so many, and yet all but one will fail. As a neutral fan, I am fortunate – or, perhaps, unfortunate, depending on which way one views the situation – to be free of the emotional roller coaster ahead. For my team, the curtain has closed. For others, the woman with the large waistband is warming up her vocal chords. But for the final eight teams, they are just a short distance from glory. Failure is no longer an option. They have but one chance.
“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!” – ‘Henry V’, Act 3, Scene I, William Shakespeare

This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure

“Courage is grace under pressure.” – Ernest Hemingway

Sources:
www.en.thinkexist.com
www.letssingit.com
www.shakespeare-literature.com
www.yahoo.com

Defining The Royal Flush Of Rugby League

I shift awkwardly, knowing that what is to come may be less than pleasant. I observe my opposition intently, my eyes frantically sending quick glances in all directions as I attempt to read their minds; to predict their next move and contemplate a way in which to counteract that in order to somehow remain dominant. The collar of my shirt seems to tighten around my neck as my nerves begin to take hold, and I refuse to make eye contact with my opponents, fearful that they will recognise my discomfort and take advantage of it. Instead, I do my best to appear confident at best, and stoic at the very worst, despite the fact that I can feel a single bead of sweat forming at the top of my forehead. I silently look across the green battleground at the other players and the crowd that collectively holds its breath in quiet anticipation. The man in charge starts the game, and I look at everything around me. There is no stadium, and there are no touch judges or goal posts.

Why? Because I’m playing poker.

I watch with anticipation as my cards are dealt, and I upturn the corners to have a look at what I have been dealt: a pair of aces, or ‘pocket bullets’ as they are referred to within the game. My emotionless exterior falters for just a moment as I consider the situation. For the time being at least, nobody else can have better cards in their possession. But that can change once the rest of the cards are dealt.

In Texas Hold ‘Em, a variant of the traditional five card version of poker that is rapidly growing in popularity, the rules are clear. Every player knows the best possible hand: a ten, jack, queen, king and ace of the same suit, popularly known as a royal flush.

In rugby league, however, such clarity is not nearly as apparent. Different players consider different things their potential rugby league ‘royal flush’: international duty; representing either Queensland or New South Wales in the State of Origin series; or even finding and holding a regular position while playing for their club. While these are impressive achievements, perhaps they are nothing more than pocket bullets: an easy answer to a potentially complex question. I believe there is another royal flush that, if applied correctly, can bring about an intimidating performance, regardless of the level of competition, or the importance of a match.

A♥ Commitment – A player’s performance can begin and end right here. How dedicated are they to the cause? A committed player will always give their all, even in situations that seem hopeless. For at least eighty minutes a week, these players are willing to put their bodies on the line for every inch of territory on the field.
"A soldier will fight long and hard for a bit of coloured ribbon." – Napoleon Bonaparte

K♥ Trust – Psychologists all around the world say that strong relationships are built on trust. In rugby league, it means each defender can mark their opposite, knowing the player beside him will do the same. Too often, a lack of trust results in a player coming in to help defend against an opponent, while leaving another attacker unmarked.
"Trust men and they will be true to you; treat them greatly, and they will show themselves great." – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Q♥ Communication – Naturally married to trust, Queen communication is essential for effective teamwork. Each player must know their role and that of everyone around them in order for the machine to remain well oiled at all times.
"Communication – the human connection – is the key to personal and career success." – Paul Meyer

J♥ Talent – Raw ability is an impressive attribute. Every rugby league player has it to some degree, but there are a precious few whose talent far exceeds that of the rest. These players are rare, but instantly recognisable.
"Natural ability without education has more often attained to glory and virtue than education without natural ability." – Cicero

10♥ Consistency – To play well once is good for the short term, but to perform strongly time and time again requires consistency, an all too elusive quality in top level sport these days.
"Part of courage is simple consistency." – Peggy Noonan

A team which exhibited all of these qualities would be a formidable team indeed. They would be my royal flush.

***Published in Issue Three of Super League Magazine, 2007***

Indispensable?

The things, you say,

Your purple prose just gives you away,

The things, you say,

You're unbelievable!

One hit wonder EMF's 1991 song Unbelievable reverberates through my mind as I sit down to contemplate an aspect of rugby league and professional sport in general that, for my mind at least, requires serious consideration. It is an issue that is always prevalent, but seems to rear its head more powerfully at this time of the year than at any other. And with the June 30th anti-tampering deadline having only recently passed us by, this seems as opportune a moment as any to address the question of nothing other than player dispensability.

The things, you say,

Your purple prose just gives you away,

The things, you say,

You're unbelievable!

The lyrics of the background music blur, morphing into my own thoughts surrounding the issue, as I contemplate the so-called "must have" players. These are the individuals who coaches select before anyone else, with reputation taking a higher precedence than form on some occasions. After all, with long term one club performers such as Andrew Johns of the Newcastle Knights and Darren Lockyer of the Brisbane Broncos, does the old adage "no player is bigger than the team" still hold true?

The way, you play,

It really takes my breath away,

The way, you play,

You're incomparable!

As a Warriors fan, I have followed with a keen interest the situation regarding fullback Brent Webb, whose contract expires at the end of the 2006 season. His situation is anything but a simple one: most recently contracted at the height of the previous management's overpriced wage upgrades, in which money was not an issue and the limits Webb has become one of the most consistent performers for both his club and his adopted country. He was heavily involved in the Kiwis' Tri-Nations campaign last year, and is currently the team's top try scorer for his club with nine touchdowns in seventeen matches, including a brace against the South Sydney Rabbitohs on the weekend. His attacking play has also been impressive, ranking second in the NRL for line breaks with nineteen, and sixth for try assists with eleven. He has been one of the essential links in the chain of many of the Warriors' offensive raids, as well as impressively strong on defense. His ability and dependability are both a far cry from when he was first signed by the club as an unknown five-eighth playing in the Queensland Cup - the very same player who was famously told by Brisbane Broncos coach Wayne Bennett that he was "not good enough to play first grade".

The way, you play,

It makes me wish that you could stay,

The way, you play,

You're just incredible!

While that has made him a joy to behold for fans of the Warriors and Kiwis alike, it has also meant that his market value has dramatically increased - an unfortunate twist of fate for a club that has already been penalised for breaching the salary cap. I shift uncomfortably in my seat as I ponder the end result: a player whose inspirational form has made him unaffordable to the very club he plays for. Ironically, Brent Webb is, in this regard, effectively an unfortunate victim of his own success.

The club, they say,

They can't afford to pay your way,

The club, they say,

You're not affordable!

But at the end of the day, business is business. The salary cap was designed to level the playing field for each NRL club, and the salaries of all players must fit within that limit, or the team roster needs to be shuffled in order to accommodate the financial restraints that are enforced by the league’s governing body. No club can afford to keep hold of their most expensive players forever. And that can’t be too much to complain about, because this newly created level playing field has resulted in a different Grand Final winner in each of the last six seasons.

With a quietly resigned sigh, I get up from my seat and turn off the radio, the familiar tune echoing inside my head as I leave the room.

You're on, your way,

In the ESL you'll play,

You're on, your way,

You were dispensable!

Transparency At The Top

"They called me Mister Glass."

So says American actor Samuel L Jackson in the movie Unbreakable, a suspense thriller in which he stars as comic book style villain Elijah Price opposite unlikely superhero Bruce Willis. But Price's nickname isn't confined to fiction alone. The National Rugby League has its very own Mister Glass, and this is an evaluation of what happened when I was fortunate enough to meet him.

It is 5:30pm on Saturday the 20th of May, 2006. I'm sitting in a boardroom along with four likeminded Warriors fans, a complimentary bottle of Coke Zero in front of each of us. A whiteboard sits at one end of the room, and a large picture of Steve Price holding up the NRL Premiership trophy - a part of the National Rugby League's "That's My Dream" advertising campaign - hangs on one of the otherwise plain white walls.

The door opens and two clean cut men dressed in suit pants and buttoned shirts enter the room. They make their way around the table, offering handshakes and introducing themselves as they do so. The first is Wayne Scurrah, Chief Executive Officer of the New Zealand Warriors. The other is Richard Howarth, their Sales and Marketing Manager. Each man carries a pen and some paper. That alone makes it clear that they have come, not only to talk, but to listen. And who have they come to listen to?

Us. The fans. They want to know what our views are about the club, and how the general game day experience can be improved. They take notes, not afraid to float their own ideas to find out our take on them.

Time flies by, and before long the somewhat impromptu meeting, which was supposed to take only half an hour but has lasted twice as long as that in a very relaxed manner, is at an end. We thank both men for their time, shake their hands again, and make our way out of the building, safe in the knowledge that we had been heard – a direct product of us being considered valuable.

Or, rather, invaluable.

Wayne Scurrah leaves a lasting impression on anyone and everyone who meets him. And in the modern era of management addressing the media with well rehearsed clichéd sound bites, as well as the ever-present reality of privatisation, the Warriors’ CEO is a breath of desperately needed fresh air amidst a background of asphyxiation. There is no ‘management speak’ with him; no smoke and mirrors - just the plain and honest truth. He’s never too busy to hear a fan’s views or concerns or take on board a suggestion from one of the punters. In short, he is the quintessential gentleman of rugby league management.

For most Warriors fans, this is nothing short of a revelation – or, perhaps, a revolution – and is a far cry from what the club’s management has been in the past. The standoffish approach to both the media and the fans that was the order of the day for a number of years has finally gone. In its place is approachability, something not seen to this degree for quite some time. Cryptic and downright misleading comments have been replaced by honesty and openness. Questions by the common fan are no longer ignored, but answered with frankness and sincerity.

If our short meeting with Wayne Scurrah is anything to go by, the New Zealand Warriors are in very safe and capable hands, and the club is heading in a direction that promises greater inclusion and consultation of the fan base, as well as the mending of relationships with lower grade league clubs and the rebuilding of some of the long burnt bridges of the club’s past.

So what does this mean for the Warriors as a whole? If nothing else, it means the club is well on its way to working like a well oiled machine. The three main factions – the players, staff, and fans - are talking, and those with the most important ears are listening, and operating as a tight, cohesive unit. And that has to be a good thing for the club on the whole, as it means the likelihood of off field dramas, such as the salary cap breach that occurred under the previous management, prior to the arrival of people like Scurrah and Howarth, is greatly reduced.

Mister Glass is in town, and at least one Warriors fan is hoping he stays for a long, long time.

***Published in Issue Four of Super League Magazine, 2006***

The Veteran Debutant

For the last six months, and despite the recent Anzac test loss, New Zealand rugby league fans have been buoyed by the achievements of the Kiwis in the 2005 Tri-Nations series. But amidst the euphoria and amazement of the 24-0 score line in the final, a number of seemingly less important individual achievements appear to have gone unnoticed, such as the number of players who had the honour of making their international debut.

For the Kiwis alone, half a dozen players represented the Land of the Long White Cloud for the first time at some point throughout the series: David Faiumu, the promising young hooker for the North Queensland Cowboys who showed his craftiness on more than one occasion, such as when he scored a clever dummy half try against the Kangaroos in Auckland during the second test; Jake Webster, a prolific try scoring winger from the Melbourne Storm who had amassed an impressive six tries in seven matches by the end of the tournament; Manu Vatuvei, the giant winger from the New Zealand Warriors who made both Great Britain vice captain Brian Carney and Kangaroo Brent Tate looking for respective rocks to hide under; Wests Tigers hooker Bronson Harrison; Iafeta Palea'asina, the barnstorming prop bound for the British Isles.

But nobody had to wait quite as long as Willie Poching. It wasn’t until November 6th, 2005, that the product of the Warriors' inaugural season in 1995, and now a regular in the starting lineup for the Leeds Rhinos in the English Super League made his international debut at the not-so-tender age of thirty-two. The part Samoan back-rower had previously represented and captained the Junior Kiwis, and the eleven season veteran had been so excited about being involved that when he received the news of his selection from Kiwis team manager Peter Leitch, and when asked how he would get to the team base, he had simply answered: “I’ll walk if you want me to”.

In the modern era of professionalism and large salaries, it is refreshing to see a player who so eagerly wants to play for his country. No amount of money could have persuaded Poching to back out on the chance of a lifetime, singing his national anthem with pride and performing the haka against an energetic and youthful England A side. And it was the evening beforehand that he got to share these feelings with his fellow players.

“We had the jersey presentation the night before the game,” he says in retrospect. “I had the opportunity to stand up in front of the boys, my best mate Joe (Vagana) and blokes like Nigel Vagana and especially Ruben (Wiki), to explain what it meant to me and how much I was looking forward to playing the next day.”

When many star players, it seems, are ‘in it for the money’, less recognised workhorses such as Willie Poching often take hold of each and every open door with both hands, refusing to let go of their own volition. It’s the sort of ‘if you want to take it from me, you’ll have to do so over my dead body’ attitude that a diehard fan of international rugby league such as myself has been craving for many years.

Poching didn’t embarrass the black jersey that day in November last year. He played well, though not to his usually high standard, similar to many of the Kiwi players in that match. His one opportunity to score international points came when Lance Hohaia, the first choice kicker for that match, was injured scoring a try in the final minute. Poching lined up the kick in his absence, and his nerves showed. His attempted conversion didn’t affect the scoreboard in any way whatsoever, and it was not long before his mobile phone was inundated with text messages from teammates ranging from the complimentary and encouraging to those exhibiting nothing more than jestful mockery.

Despite his less than exemplary goalkicking effort, however, Willie Poching had achieved his childhood dream of representing New Zealand as fellow 1973 baby Ruben Wiki became the most internationally capped player in the history of the sport. And that, more than anything, was what mattered to him the most.

And who better to assert that than the man himself?

“To play for the Kiwis was what I’d wanted since I started playing. I hadn’t really given up hope but I knew my chances were getting slimmer and slimmer with each year. Thankfully it came about.”

***Willie Poching's quotes sourced from "The Year The Kiwis Flew" by Peter C. Leitch and Richard Becht***

***Published in Issue Six of Super League Magazine, 2006***

We Are The Champions?

We are the champions, my friends

And we'll keep on fighting till the end

When Freddie Mercury, lead singer of iconic English rock band Queen, first penned the lyrics to this 1977 anthemic classic, the last thing on his mind would have been the then poor quality of international rugby league. But now, it seems, the message of his song is ringing loudly, if not so clearly.

There can be no denying that New Zealand’s victory in the Tri-Nations final in Leeds last year was an historic one. It broke records and set a new standard for international football. It was the first time Australia had been kept scoreless since they lost 18-0 to the Kiwis in Wellington in 1985; the first time Australia had lost a series since they were beaten 2-1 by France in 1978; the first time New Zealand had beaten Australia in a test series since 1953; and the equal largest winning margin by New Zealand over Australia in rugby league test history, after having previously beaten them 49-25 in Brisbane in 1952.

But to claim the Kiwis are now the team to beat is probably going one step too far. After all, they don’t hold the World Cup in their trophy cabinet, and they haven’t won the annual Anzac test match since 2003. So only those unfortunate enough to not be involved with rugby league on any level – be it coaching, playing, or supporting – would suggest New Zealand are the best rugby league nation in the world.

Unless, that is, you happen to listen to the words of a certain individual by the name of Andrew Johns.

The Newcastle halfback commented on the Anzac test in his regular column in the Sunday Telegraph newspaper at a time when he was nursing an ankle injury from a previous match: “If I miss that [Souths] game, I’ve just got to hope the selectors will consider me for the test.” He then went on to say: “I’m really passionate about the clash with the Kiwis and not just because it will be my final representative game. In my eyes, the Kiwis are the number one league nation after they won the Tri-Nations series in England last year.”

We are the champions, my friends

And we'll keep on fighting till the end

We are the champions

We are the champions

Johns’ comments reflect a shift in the perception of international rugby league that has caught the attention of both fans and players alike. This resurgence – or rebirth, some might call it – of popularity has been a breath of fresh air for the sport on an international level not seen since New Zealand last dominated Australia in the mid-1950s. The amount of interest in the upcoming Anzac test among the fans, but in the media particularly, has surpassed that of any rugby league even in recent history. In New Zealand, a nation dominated by rugby union, newspapers and television news programs have been focusing on the test match on their front pages and first articles respectively.

In short, the buildup has caught the attention of even the most disinterested rugby league armchair critic. The so-called ‘bandwagon’ fans are actually sitting up and taking notice.

And the Kiwis are showing prematch confidence for the first time in a long time.

No longer is the attitude in the New Zealand camp one of trying to concede as few points as possible, and hopefully not get beaten by too large a margin, but one of actually going out there to win. And, truth be told, the result of the Anzac test almost doesn’t matter.

Not at all, you insist? Perish the thought, you cry? Certainly. But first, recognise that international rugby league is back, regardless of the result on Friday night. Competitiveness at the highest level – something that has been lacking in the sport for so many excruciating years – has finally returned and is hopefully here to stay.

It has been six months since the Kiwis and Kangaroos have done battle, but if Andrew Johns’ comments regarding the Kiwis are to be taken seriously, the upcoming Anzac test, intended to be the last for both him and lock Ben Kennedy, should be well worth the wait.

We are the champions, my friends

And we'll keep on fighting till the end

We are the champions

We are the champions

No time for losers

'Cause we are the champions

Of the world!

The Working Man’s Game

I can still remember it as clearly as though it were yesterday. My father, a serious and stern expression on his face, was sitting me down on one of the much loved and ageing living room sofas in our home. It was clear by the man’s focused gaze and his intense but monotone voice that this was no ordinary conversation. No, this was real father to son material – the passing down of wisdom from one generation to another. In a manner similar to one relay runner passing the baton to his fellow team member, my father had something very important to explain.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with either birds or bees. No, puberty and the dropping of voices associated with it were pushed to the side for a much more important aspect of life - social classes.

Suffice to say, at eleven years of age this wasn’t the sort of conversation I had expected to share with my father, particularly considering I was of the opinion that social classes were both distant and irrelevant. I had no idea just how wrong I was.

My father had emigrated from England to New Zealand a little more than twenty years earlier. His background was not one of wealth – his mother had been a cook for a wealthy land owner in the area, and his father had ridden a bicycle to get to work each day because the family lacked the money to own a motor vehicle. For that reason, if anyone knew about social classes, it was my dad. And he wanted to explain to me that classes existed in New Zealand, albeit with less impact than in his place of birth, and that they were evident everywhere, even on the football field.

As I listened on in silence, my father pointed out to me that in contrast to rugby union, where a referee will address a player by their surname, a rugby league official, (or a soccer referee, as was my father’s original train of thought), will use the player’s first name when speaking to them, in a similar manner to the way teachers get the attention of students at private and public schools respectively. In fact, it seems that it is from this educational background that such habits are born and fostered. It is a trait that stretches to the fans of both codes, whether they are passionately cheering on their team, or just discussing the topics of team selection and player form in civil conversation.

The use of a surname or a first name might seem like little more than semantics, but I believe there is something defining about it. Knowing someone on a first name basis indicates a closeness that a title or a surname cannot provide - a primitive form of intimacy and the most basic of relational connections. Perhaps this is why it seems to hurt so much when our rugby league teams lose, no matter the opposition. An emotional investment has been made, and it doesn’t always pay out with the profits we crave.

Such is the nature of sport in general – each fan has his or her favourite player for one reason or another, and pretending to know them in an innate manner simply adds to the agony and ecstasy of supporting a rugby league team. Calling players by their first name is just one way of doing that.

I remember sitting in that sofa, refusing to make a sound as this information – something I considered to be nothing short of revolutionary – was gifted to me. It was as if a buried treasure chest had just had its lock broken, but it was several years before I was able to properly open it and discover the treasures inside; something I continue to do to this day.

The professional arena has changed a lot of things. Players can now be seen driving Holden Commodores and sporting the latest clothing labels; television sponsorship deals bring in millions of dollars each year to the sport’s governing body; professionally trained staff organise training sessions for teams; players are paid high wages and stay in five star hotels when touring other countries, and they are made into celebrities, holding autograph signing sessions for their many adoring fans.

But one thing remains. It is the ability, and even the invitation, to do as the referee does each and every week: to call each player by his first name.

From The Circles Of My Family History To The Ovals Of My Future

I splash cold tap water onto my face and watch as minute streams form down my cheeks, the clear liquid dropping into the bathroom sink below. An exhausted face looks back at me from the mirror, complete with reddened cheeks and sweaty hair. What is it that has caught me so short of breath? I haven’t just been playing rugby league, which may well be to the disappointment of many people reading this. No, I have in fact been partaking in a social yet fiercely competitive game of soccer.

Why on earth am I mentioning the sport of my forefathers in Britain, as opposed to the game which I have followed for the last twelve years of my life? Comparisons, of course! Why else?

I grew up playing soccer. My father, originally from England, knew that it is the one sport where anyone can play, regardless of size or ability, and, seeing as I was a skinny, slight young lad who lacked both, soccer and I seemed like a perfect match. But, as it is often wont to do, my curiosity sought out other sports, and one day I stumbled across rugby league.

Ever since then, I have been intrigued by one aspect in particular of the thirteen man game. It is the singular most unpredictable and unreliable part of the sport. It can be a best friend one moment, and the worst of enemies the next. It can make or break an attacking play, a match, or even a season. Players are subject to its will, attempting to pre-empt its next whimsical manoeuvre. It is the 'X' factor of the game, and it can be a coach killer in every sense of the word.

It is, of course, the bounce of the ball.

Coming from a bloodline that finds its origins in the British working class, where soccer, (or football, for those still in the mother country), is king, my curiosity is hardly surprising - indeed, it is almost to be expected. A spherical ball, whilst still able to curve and spin in order to produce confusion amongst opposition defenders, is a far cry from the bobble and hop that can be found in rugby league which shreds defensive lines to pieces on an almost routinely basis.

This unusual shape presents itself as some kind of wild animal, potentially willing to be tamed, but only by the right player. And that's the key, I think: potentially. Even the greatest of playmakers - suitably otherwise known as 'ball tamers' for the purpose of this musing - can misjudge the next move of the ball, making for interesting and sometimes spectacular results. And like all wild animals, even the most cooperative of rugby league balls can turn on its master at any given moment.

But it is the few, (those happy few), maestros - nay, magicians - that can be relied on to have near flawless ball control in the most literal sense possible. They and they alone have the power and panache to define the bounce of the ball; to decide its momentum and direction, only to sit back and wait as the ball takes care of the opposition defensive line on his behalf.

Such players are very few, and even further between.

And it is here that the comparisons between rugby league and 'the beautiful game' stall. Despite the best efforts of Pele, Ronaldo, and the late George Best, their sport provided unpredictability only when forced to by the brilliance of an individual player. Rugby league, however, can provide that very notion of uncertainty simply due to the comparatively unusual shape of its ball alone, making a mockery of any team that isn't - excuse the pun - 'on the ball'.

With a towel drying my face, and my ponderings subsiding for only a few brief moments, I reflect on the situation: a first generation New Zealander, still playing the most popular game of my ancestral origins, but choosing to vigorously support the underdog of my geographical home. It’s an act of pioneering, and one that I intend to make last.

From circles to ovals – it hasn’t really been that much of a leap, has it? After all, were it not for the elliptical shape of a pig’s bladder, I might have forever remained none the wiser.

***Published in Issue Five of Super League Magazine, 2006***

You Can't Always Get What You Want

The lyrics to the chorus of this classic song by The Rolling Stones were reverberating through my head as I sat down to write aboard a Qantas flight bound for Auckland. I had spent the past four days in Melbourne, attending the Australian Game Development Conference. This was the first time I had visited any Australian city for longer than a stopover period, and I felt it prudent to explore the home of so many of my transtasman cousins. In all, my time in the Victorian city left me with many positive experiences, and a desire to return at some time in the future.

A visit to the home of the Melbourne Storm, however, left a sour aftertaste in my mouth.

Melbourne has a plethora of stadia. The sports mad city is home to the legendary Melbourne Cricket Ground, as well as the Telstra Dome, the Rod Laver Arena, the Melbourne Sports And Entertainment Centre, and the Vodafone Arena, not to mention the many training grounds that accompany many of these facilities. But when I initially entered Olympic Park, I thought I was in the wrong place, simply because of the size and state of the stands.

Looking back in hindsight as an air stewardess assisted a nearby passenger with his carry-on luggage, what I had failed to remember was that Victoria is well and truly AFL country. Rugby league is a minority sport. I didn't manage to generate a single comment by wearing a New Zealand Warriors jersey during my brief stay. I doubt many people even recognised my article of clothing for what it was. The Telstra Dome had a giant AFL sign above the entrance. Olympic Park had a Melbourne Victory logo, representing the local A-League soccer team. There wasn't a Melbourne Storm sign in sight, unless one happened to notice a small two storey building behind a nearby Aussie rules practice ground.

Okay, so Olympic Park was less impressive than my expectations had allowed me to believe. But where am I going with this? I suppose I was provoked to comment on an NRL fan base less fortunate than my own. Back in New Zealand, many rugby league fans such as myself complain that we are in the minority - that in light of the All Blacks and their world dominating achievements, the Kiwis and the Warriors don't receive enough recognition, particularly in the media. And yet in contrast, many of the locals I spoke to in Melbourne were unable to follow my train of thought as soon as I started mentioning NRL teams, such as the Roosters, Bulldogs, and Rabbitohs.

In essence, this was a case of counting one's blessings and opening a second eye before complaining into the microphone.

With the airline captain introducing himself over the intercom system and me relaxing into my seat, I pondered my own bias towards the subject of Melbourne's minority sport. My home city of Auckland has a long history with rugby league, and, although the City of Sails is considered a rugby union stronghold, rugby league fans and parents still turn out in their hundreds each Saturday morning to watch their children attempting to emulate their rugby league heroes. And the home ground of the Vodafone Warriors, Ericsson Stadium, has just completed an upgrade, with the Eastern Stand now capable of seating many more people and with protective roofing and new training facilities. With that as my background and usual surroundings, it is hardly surprising that Olympic Park's comparatively smaller and less sophisticated stadium caught me somewhat offguard.

Such an experience has enabled me to observe the situation of rugby league in my own life and city with a warmer gaze. It isn’t the ignored sport we have claimed it to be – well, not as ignored as it is in Victoria. And that must be a good thing. With the captain speaking up again and requesting each passenger to turn off our electronic devices, I realised that it's times like these that allow us to remember how fortunate we are before jumping onto our own soap box. With my PDA about to be turned off and the aircraft beginning its journey down the runway, those lyrics continued to circulate through my mind...

You can't always get what you want,
You can't always get what you want,
You can't always get what you want,
But if you try sometimes well you just might find,
You get what you need!

***Published in Issue Six of Super League Magazine, 2006***