Australian Sport, NRL, Rugby League, NFL, AFL, Pittsburgh Steelers, Arizona Cardinals, Darren Lockyer, Andrew Johns, State of Origin, Brisbane Broncos, NBA, MLB, Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, Larry Bird
I had to write about the Super Bowl. From an Australian perspective it never fails to amaze me. In fact all American sports have the same effect on me. It’s like looking into the future. The future of Australian sports that is.
All the money, the commercialisation, the notoriety, the media saturation, the over-valuation, the opinionated personalities. That is the future of Australian sports whether you like it or not. If you disagree, take a look at the AFL.
Growing TV contracts, over-celebritised players (especially if decide to throw away your career because of drugs), a growing insatiability among the fan base (do us a favor and take a breath Victoria), developmental leagues, a draft which is increasingly stealing pages in the paper from other sports regular seasons, and most explicitly similar, the increasingly popular holiday-esque nature of the AFL grand final. Like the Super Bowl, it transcends social norms and annually shifts itself into the national conscience, interesting even those who normally have no time for sports.
The AFL in 2009 is what the NFL was in 1989. Fresh from hashing out the wrinkles that surface in the early stages of professionalism, the AFL faces—as the NFL did during the 90s—an era of ideological struggle; as the league expands financially and begins to operate more like a business, the purists and the fans traditional conceptions and associated values towards the league and the ideal of sport will be challenged.
When the first multi-million dollar contract (per year) gets signed, how do blue collar fans deal with that? How does the famed tall poppy syndrome that all Australians harvest effect the growth of the game? I say it won’t, but it could cause MLB-esque confrontation between small market teams and their fans. These are two of many questions that will face AFL fans in the future.
My prediction is a lot of the small market teams will be forced to move. I could see Sydney and Queensland with two, three teams each in the future if Australian population growth doesn’t increase and stays concentrated within the nation’s metropolitan centers.
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Back to the Super Bowl.
As a neutral fan of pro-football, it was only natural to root for the Cardinals. Not because they were the underdogs and it would be a great rags to glory story, but for the sake of journalistic sanity in the following weeks.
Leading up to the game, the media centered around Pittsburgh’s history, their eternal right to their sixth championship, the mythological premise of Steelers football, and the Cardinals undeserving-lucky streak nature in which they made the big game. These stories never made sense to me.
Beginning with the premise of Steelers football. All week I read about the famed blue collar, hard nosed, hit ‘em in the mouth, culture that epitomises Steelers football.
They’ll pound the ball between the tackles because that’s STEELERS FOOTBALL!
They’ll play tough defense because that’s STELLERS FOOTBALL!
The team embodies the personality of the city of Pittsburgh!
They were the lines that continued to appear. I won’t argue that clubhouses and locker-rooms perpetuate certain cultures (see: neo-Bulldogs), but not 29 years apart. The previous lines emanate from the string of success the Steelers experienced in the 70s that culminated in their fourth Super Bowl win in 1980. Those teams DID embody the attitudes and values of the city, because they existed and lived in a pre-professional era and were a part of the community. They didn’t fly home to Atlanta, or Phoenix, or Florida in the offseason; they didn’t make millions; and they didn’t play in a nanny-league. Pro-teams today just don’t have that gritty amateur connection with the fan base.
Which is why it makes no sense to assume—in a league built on exploiting weaknesses and capitalizing on strengths—that a team in 2009 would win a game because of the tactics (running the ball with the beefy Franco Harris) that won games for teams almost thirty years ago, when they possess completely different offensive personnel.
Sure, they do play tough defense, but that has nothing to do with what happened in the 70s. It’s a product of a team that was head-coached by a defensive minded guy in Bill Cowher for 15 seasons; it’s the product of playing a Rex Ryan (defensive minded) lead Baltimore team twice a year; it’s a product of playing in the recently tough AFC; it’s a product of drafting well; it’s a product of having two great pass rushers, and a instinctive strong safety anchoring your defense; it’s a product of adopting true-tested model for success which states that focusing on building a smart, solid defense produces more wins than developing a high octane offense. It’s a product of everything BUT the persona of a team who happened to play for the same club nearly thirty years ago.
The point is, if you are a mainstream sports writer and you base your pre game analysis on strengths that exist in theory, it’s a stupid point to make—especially when the team in question, can’t punch it in from first and goal, passes from their one yard line, they give up 377 yards passing, they win the game on a fade route, and their first string back rushes for 53 yards on 19 carries.
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This is especially true if you cover State of Origin. League writers and TV personalities have been beating the “Queenslanders never give up!” drum for a long time now, and until now it was appropriate. There was a visible culture among the Maroons squads of the past 28 years that was built around the belief that, in an origin game, they always had a chance to win.
It was born from the leadership of Arthur Beetson, made famous by the heroics of Wally Lewis, and continued by the likes of Mal Maninga, Allan Langer, and more recently Darren Lockyer.
Those players—like the 70s Steelers—did embody their environment, mainly because they had an intimate connection with their local community; they had day jobs, they hung out at RSL’s, they had private lives. The game was precisely that to them, a game.
(Sure, Lockyer didn’t have a real day job, but he did spend the early stages of his career around that previous generation and, I believe, he was heavily influenced by them. He wouldn’t be the leader he is today without that experience. I’m convinced of this.)
So as the last of that generation – namely those who grew up watching pre-professional league, and then played in the first era of professionalism – retires from the game, and teams are flooded with “modern athletes”, that never-die culture is lost, as the gap between the community and the modern athlete widens.
Think about it: Is Israel Folau, or Greg Ingliss, really going to continue to push themselves, or play through injury, or engage in a fight, just to defend the pride of the Maroons? Of course not.
Why risk potentially millions in earnings over a title that is won and lost in three games, each year mind you. As professionalism embraces the Australian sporting landscape, players – and no one can blame them for this – begin to make business decisions (namely, decisions that benefit the selling of the commodity which is themselves), and not decisions based on emotion. As always the key rule in business success is to always differentiate business and emotion.
I see Origin evolving into more of an All-star game-esque event in the future. I could see it being cut back to one game to provide more rest time during the season and limit injuries. More focus will be placed on the naming of the annual roster; there will be a push to name the best players rather than the best teams.
When your living revolves around your ability to market yourself, collecting accolades, such as being named to an all-pro team, has a dramatic effect on your marketability. “Who cares if you have four fullbacks, my client has outplayed any center this season”, agents will argue. This is where Origin will cease to be a contest, and announce itself at the NRL’s annual marketing festival.
Remember, it’s all about the money.
(Note: I love origin the way it is. This is just what I think could happen as a result of the Professional revolution. Not what I want to happen.)
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My last piece of Super Bowl inspired pondering is to do with legacy. Why are championships weighted so lightly in rugby league when evaluating a player’s legacy?
In American sports (NFL, NBA, and to a lesser extent MLB), the number of “rings” a player earned is integral to the evaluation process of one’s career. Especially when evaluating the games greats.
Michael Jordan is not that much more talented than Kobe Bryant; Jordan never scored 81 points in a game, he never scored 61 in New York, he was an even worse teammate. But he will always be far greater than Kobe could ever hope to be because he has six championship rings, and Kobe only has three. And Kobe will never be as good as Larry Bird (also 3 rings), because Bird did it in a, supposedly, tougher and more talented era. So American sports figures are judged not only by the quantity of their rings, but by the quality, and in Australia, it doesn’t factor in.
Lockyer and Johns are the perfect example. Both have lead their club, state, and country; both have won test and origin series, single handily at times; both were named in the list of Australia’s 100 greatest players; both hold NRL points records; both have won multiple golden boot awards; both have a Clive Churchill medal; both have won multiple Daily M. medals; and both have been the face of the game.
The only difference between them is that Lockyer has won two more premierships (three if you count super league) than Johns has. Despite this Johns was named as a Team of the Century starter, while Lockyer didn’t even make the bench. To reiterate the original point, how does winning a title (the whole point of the contest) mean so little, and not weight more heavily in the Australian mind?
(Note: Despite everything I just wrote I completely and unequivocally believe that Johns is far superior to Lockyer, and I am Broncos fan for life. I have no idea why I think this. I just know that Johns was the best I will ever see. Go figure.)
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
neo-Bulldogs
Australian Sport, Ben Hannant, Brett Kimmorley, Brisbane Broncos, Canterbury Bulldogs, David Stagg, Michael Ennis, NRL, Rugby League
Like the American public cleaned [white] house with the election of Obama, the Bulldogs brain-trust has restored hope to doggy nation with their off-season moves in the past two years. No where is this cultural renaissance symbolised better than in the signing of David Stagg.
Suffering from a myriad of off-field issues—namely, locker room cancers (Mason, O’Meley, Williams, Maitua, Anasta), injuries (Mason, Williams, Tonga, Anasta), and ageing talent (Mason, Anasta, Shifty Sherwin)—the famed bulldog culture was reminiscent of the thug culture that killed the NBA in the late ‘90s.
After hitting rock bottom in 2007, the brain-trust invaded the Bulldog locker room like missionaries invaded Africa in the 1700s—preaching a fresh brand of family values, denouncing the barbaric attitudes of the past, and removing anyone who didn’t bye into the new system.
Cutting ties with Mason and O’Meley in the summer was the tipping point—essentially blowing up the team, creating room below the cap, getting them younger, and allowing them to focus on moving forward with the nucleus of Williams, Ryan, and Patten. Going into 2008 the ‘dogs were in great shape.
Since no one saw the Williams scandal coming, the 2008 season should be regarded as a mulligan. No team could recover from that.
(On the Williams debacle: I’m totally torn by this bizarre situation. On the one hand, I can’t bring myself to hate Williams for his decision. How do you turn down that much money? These guys have small windows, not much else going for them, have relied on the advice of agents and coaches since they were playing schoolboys, and have a lot of proverbial mouths to feed. If you are Williams, do you really enjoy having every desperate journo in Sydney follow you around waiting for another bathroom incident, do you really like every weights junkie picking fights with you when you go out, are you happy feeding the mouths of every guy who knew from your past, do you enjoy rushing yourself back from injury because the club and the league rely on you? The answers no.
On the other hand, how does he sign that contract knowing he is signing away life in Australia? He had to know how this would play out, or else he wouldn’t have taken off in the middle of the night. How can he come back and live here? He wouldn’t be able to go anywhere in west Sydney with out the cousins being called; he wouldn’t be able to return to the NRL; he has no market appeal; no one wants to go into business with him. Does he suffer financially in the long run? How much is your credibility worth?)
So like any caddy will tell you, after a mulligan you just move forward. And the ‘dogs have done just that.
Kimmorley was a good, not great signing. Canterbury faithful have to be realistic with him. Know that he doesn’t guarantee you anything long term, know he has off nights, know he’s old and injury prone, don’t ask too much of him, and enjoy the few games a year he puts the team on his back for a few series and gets you a win. At the least they get a savvy vet who gives them structured attack and helps develop the young guys.
Hannant and Ennis are safe gambles. After watching them both trot around Suncorp for the past three years, I think Hannant is a good commodity with upside, but I’m not sold on Ennis as a long term prospect.
Hannant does the little things well—eat up more minutes than you think, give you a reliable tackle count each week, give you size, create the extra man in the line without slowing down ball movement. He is a poor mans Asotasi. At worst, he is a good rotation guy who compliments your team. The only question on Hannant is: How much of his success do you contribute to Wayne Bennett? And will he be as effective under Steve Folks?
As for Ennis, he is filler; a body who fills a role. He wont lose you a game, but he wont win it for you either. He is too old to sell as a signing for the future, and he has reached his ceiling. He is what he is. You know what you are getting, but that’s not always a bad thing.
The biggest upside with Hannant and Ennis will be their presence in the locker room and at training. They both come from a professional, winning culture at the Broncos. Recent history shows Bennett University grads have a significant impact on other teams just because of their work effort alone—Scott Prince at the Tigers and Titans, Luke Priddis at the Panthers, and Brad Thorn at the Crusaders, to name a few.
Which brings us to David Stagg. The most underrated player in the game, the bulldogs have—pending the success of Folau—made the best signing anyone will this offseason. Stagg is money. Essentially he is the next Fitzgibbon, but with ball skills. He is versatile (a good fit at lock, five-eight, centre, and if need be, wing), he has a motor, he consistently puts up great tackle count numbers, has hidden speed, quick reliable hands, and from what I have read, is a perfect locker room guy.
The only slight on Stagg is, he isn’t a vocal leader. I would argue his work effort on the field makes up for that. He is like a great bass player; his focus is on all the little implicit things that set a platform for others to succeed, but when you need him to step into the spotlight he always comes through. I loved watching him at the Broncos, and I’m sure the Bulldogs fans will love watching him in the blue and white.
In fact, I envy the Bulldogs fans in this coming season. The thought of going from watching a train wreck of a team last season to watching a fresh, young, motivated, we’re-just-going-to-have-fun-out-there, team will be a joy, and should make any league fan envious.
So beware NRL, the Bulldog cultural renaissance is in full swing. Kebabs for everybody!
Like the American public cleaned [white] house with the election of Obama, the Bulldogs brain-trust has restored hope to doggy nation with their off-season moves in the past two years. No where is this cultural renaissance symbolised better than in the signing of David Stagg.
Suffering from a myriad of off-field issues—namely, locker room cancers (Mason, O’Meley, Williams, Maitua, Anasta), injuries (Mason, Williams, Tonga, Anasta), and ageing talent (Mason, Anasta, Shifty Sherwin)—the famed bulldog culture was reminiscent of the thug culture that killed the NBA in the late ‘90s.
After hitting rock bottom in 2007, the brain-trust invaded the Bulldog locker room like missionaries invaded Africa in the 1700s—preaching a fresh brand of family values, denouncing the barbaric attitudes of the past, and removing anyone who didn’t bye into the new system.
Cutting ties with Mason and O’Meley in the summer was the tipping point—essentially blowing up the team, creating room below the cap, getting them younger, and allowing them to focus on moving forward with the nucleus of Williams, Ryan, and Patten. Going into 2008 the ‘dogs were in great shape.
Since no one saw the Williams scandal coming, the 2008 season should be regarded as a mulligan. No team could recover from that.
(On the Williams debacle: I’m totally torn by this bizarre situation. On the one hand, I can’t bring myself to hate Williams for his decision. How do you turn down that much money? These guys have small windows, not much else going for them, have relied on the advice of agents and coaches since they were playing schoolboys, and have a lot of proverbial mouths to feed. If you are Williams, do you really enjoy having every desperate journo in Sydney follow you around waiting for another bathroom incident, do you really like every weights junkie picking fights with you when you go out, are you happy feeding the mouths of every guy who knew from your past, do you enjoy rushing yourself back from injury because the club and the league rely on you? The answers no.
On the other hand, how does he sign that contract knowing he is signing away life in Australia? He had to know how this would play out, or else he wouldn’t have taken off in the middle of the night. How can he come back and live here? He wouldn’t be able to go anywhere in west Sydney with out the cousins being called; he wouldn’t be able to return to the NRL; he has no market appeal; no one wants to go into business with him. Does he suffer financially in the long run? How much is your credibility worth?)
So like any caddy will tell you, after a mulligan you just move forward. And the ‘dogs have done just that.
Kimmorley was a good, not great signing. Canterbury faithful have to be realistic with him. Know that he doesn’t guarantee you anything long term, know he has off nights, know he’s old and injury prone, don’t ask too much of him, and enjoy the few games a year he puts the team on his back for a few series and gets you a win. At the least they get a savvy vet who gives them structured attack and helps develop the young guys.
Hannant and Ennis are safe gambles. After watching them both trot around Suncorp for the past three years, I think Hannant is a good commodity with upside, but I’m not sold on Ennis as a long term prospect.
Hannant does the little things well—eat up more minutes than you think, give you a reliable tackle count each week, give you size, create the extra man in the line without slowing down ball movement. He is a poor mans Asotasi. At worst, he is a good rotation guy who compliments your team. The only question on Hannant is: How much of his success do you contribute to Wayne Bennett? And will he be as effective under Steve Folks?
As for Ennis, he is filler; a body who fills a role. He wont lose you a game, but he wont win it for you either. He is too old to sell as a signing for the future, and he has reached his ceiling. He is what he is. You know what you are getting, but that’s not always a bad thing.
The biggest upside with Hannant and Ennis will be their presence in the locker room and at training. They both come from a professional, winning culture at the Broncos. Recent history shows Bennett University grads have a significant impact on other teams just because of their work effort alone—Scott Prince at the Tigers and Titans, Luke Priddis at the Panthers, and Brad Thorn at the Crusaders, to name a few.
Which brings us to David Stagg. The most underrated player in the game, the bulldogs have—pending the success of Folau—made the best signing anyone will this offseason. Stagg is money. Essentially he is the next Fitzgibbon, but with ball skills. He is versatile (a good fit at lock, five-eight, centre, and if need be, wing), he has a motor, he consistently puts up great tackle count numbers, has hidden speed, quick reliable hands, and from what I have read, is a perfect locker room guy.
The only slight on Stagg is, he isn’t a vocal leader. I would argue his work effort on the field makes up for that. He is like a great bass player; his focus is on all the little implicit things that set a platform for others to succeed, but when you need him to step into the spotlight he always comes through. I loved watching him at the Broncos, and I’m sure the Bulldogs fans will love watching him in the blue and white.
In fact, I envy the Bulldogs fans in this coming season. The thought of going from watching a train wreck of a team last season to watching a fresh, young, motivated, we’re-just-going-to-have-fun-out-there, team will be a joy, and should make any league fan envious.
So beware NRL, the Bulldog cultural renaissance is in full swing. Kebabs for everybody!
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