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Sport: The Australian Disease - sportingaustralia.com

In praise of the Bledisloe

November 4th 2008 11:01
The Wallabies in Hong Kong
Last Saturday, the Wallabies and All Blacks took part in an historic encounter in Hong Kong. It was an occasion worthy of both celebration and damnation.

On the negative side, although the match may have been an official part of this year’s Bledisloe series, in reality it was nothing more than a revenue-raising exercise. Given that no less than three tests had already been played between the two countries in Australia and New Zealand, there was no valid sporting reason to stage a fourth- and in Honkers of all places.


Exploiting such a hallowed rivalry in such a crude fashion must necessarily tarnish it. Of course, because only one of these glorified exhibitions has thus far occurred, the sheen that has come off the Bledisloe tradition is but slight and easily restored. However, if these far-flung fixtures are to become a regular part of the Anzac rugby calendar, the lustre will bit by bit begin to fade away. And that would be of concern not just for supporters, but also the accountants and marketing men responsible for devising and promoting these exotic clashes.

Paradoxically, though, while the ARU’s shameless pursuit of bundles of cash may cause the bile to rise in some people’s throats, there is no denying that bundles of cash are exactly what the ARU needs. Ever since the highly profitable 2003 World Cup, the governing body has been haemorrhaging money. As interest in rugby union has been declining, so have the ARU’s coffers, and at an alarming rate. And it is a problem that may soon worsen; the SANZAR nations are about to negotiate their next television deal, and due to the declining popularity of their product, not to mention the credit crunch, there is a good chance that they will receive less than they have been banking on. It was amidst this gloom that the fourth Bledisloe was conceived.


Even before last Saturday, there was talk of organising a sequel, with one of the proposed venues being Tokyo. That would be a perfect choice for two reasons. Firstly, as the financial powerhouse of Asia, Japan is just the sort of place where sponsors would pay handsomely to gain exposure. Secondly, Japan- which possesses both a reasonably competitive domestic competition and a basic understanding of the game- is one of the few countries in the world to which rugby could, given the right combination of time, funds and planning, be successfully exported.

Consequently, the ARU has been looking for some time at growing the game in Japan, and forging a stronger relationship with the Japan Rugby Football Union. That was why, in 2005, Australia pushed hard for the 2011 World Cup to be awarded to Japan (only to watch in dismay as shameful politicking caused it to be handed to New Zealand). It also explains why John O’Neill, since reassuming the chief executive’s role last year, has openly pondered the idea of awarding Japan a spot in an expanded Super 15 or 16 competition.

All this scheming is based on the belief that in a rapidly changing world, standing still is not an option. The twin aims of the ARU are to increase rugby’s popularity and profitability, and neither will be achieved by doing things as they have always been done. In such an intensely competitive sporting landscape as Australia’s, retaining fans- let alone converting new ones- is a challenging proposition. That is why money is needed; money to market the game, money to prop up the states and clubs, and money to support the grassroots.

Money is also needed to ensure that the most gifted players remain in Australia. For the last few years, the ARU- just like the New Zealand and South African Rugby Unions- has been fighting an increasingly hopeless battle to stop stars such as Rocky Elsom and Dan Vickerman heading to the increasingly richer European leagues to ply their trade. While the ARU will never be able to remunerate its players as generously as those foreign clubs, the more money it can offer during contract negotiations, the less talent it will lose. That is essential, because a talent drain can trigger a vicious cycle in which fewer stars leads to reduced playing standards, which leads to reduced spectator interest, which leads to reduced ARU revenue, which leads to less money being offered during contract negotiations.

It was perhaps inevitable, then, that the idea of a fourth Bledisloe should have come about. For the ARU (and NZRU), there could have been no simpler and quicker way to make money, which explains why follow-ups are likely to occur. However, a word of caution needs to be sounded; in the rush to make an easy profit, one must not forget that the tenderest of loving care needs to be bestowed on the goose laying these golden eggs.

Sooner or later, when casual observers grow accustomed to the concept and when fans grow cynical towards it, the novelty value will be lost, and with it a considerable part of the commercial appeal. In other words, the Bledisloe can only be cheaply exploited for so long. To allow the Bledisloe’s reputation to be tarnished would be a double tragedy, because the sullying would be occurring for diminishing financial returns. Tests between Australia and New Zealand must always be significant and keenly anticipated affairs; they must never be allowed to become humdrum encounters that seem to serve no purpose beyond the making of money. To draw an analogy, the Bledisloe must always be maintained as rugby’s version of the Ashes, as opposed to a meaningless one day international. This is an instance in which less is more.

What all this means is that the ARU is being pulled in two different directions. On the one hand, it needs to flog the Bledisloe for all its worth, but on the other it has to desperately resist the lure of over-exposure. Can there be a way to reconcile these seemingly conflicting priorities? As it so happens, there is.

By combining the best part of the traditional approach (competing for the cup over three meaningful matches) with the best part of the contemporary approach (developing new markets such as Japan), a sensible compromise would be reached. If two tests were played in Australia and New Zealand and a third overseas, the benefits would be numerous. Each side would have an equal number of home games; the series would be far less likely to end in a draw; the lustre of the cup would be preserved; and the cash would continue to roll in. Best of all, we could return to praising the Bledisloe, instead of damning it.
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Nicky Carle
Let us declare it official: Nicky Carle is the Peter Hewat of Australian football.

In May 2007, Hewat was famously omitted from a 59 man training squad that then-Wallabies coach John Connolly assembled prior to the World Cup. Now, Carle has been omitted from a 35 man squad that Socceroos coach Pim Verbeek has assembled prior to the qualifier against Qatar.

Every now and then, a player will arrive on the scene to polarise opinion. Some will proclaim him or her an exceptional talent; others will consider the person in question to be overrated. Facts and figures will be bandied about in support of both sides of the argument; tempers will rise as supporters and detractors alike shake their heads at the apparent absurdity of the other’s position. Who knows why, but two people will look at the same picture and see something completely different. Although the endless debate can be maddening, it is ultimately to be celebrated; after all, it is the subjective beauty of sport, allied with its capacity to arouse passions and stir debate, that makes it so grand. Sport is capable of stimulating every possible emotion- be it rapture, wonder, astonishment or despair- to the extent that so many of us feel compelled to follow and discuss it. Even as it draws people apart it brings them together.

Peter Hewat was only on the rugby union scene from 2005-7, yet in that short time he was responsible for a good many arguments. Supporters of the NSW fullback seemed to like him for objective reasons; anybody who scores so many tries and kicks so many penalties, they insisted, must be good. Opponents, however, took a subjective line; his defence is shaky and he goes missing in big games.

As Hewat was arriving on the Super 14 scene, Wendell Sailor was preparing to leave it. He, too, polarised opinion- and, perhaps not coincidentally, in much the same way. Supporters hailed his try-scoring record and pointed to the number of metres he would gain per match. Opponents countered that his erratic defence and lack of rugby nous made him a liability. The key difference is that Sailor found favour with the national selectors. What they had in common is that both were highly unconventional.

Beauty, we all know, is in the eye of the beholder. But there are some things that are manifestly beautiful, or appealing. Audrey Hepburn was manifestly beautiful in a way that Sarah Jessica Parker is not; staying in a five star hotel is manifestly appealing in a way that camping in the bush is not. Some things the human brain will readily accept as pleasing; others demand a great deal of effort. To appreciate an unconventional athlete like a Hewat or a Sailor demands effort. Of course, whether such effort is deserved is another matter.

As far as John Connolly was concerned, Peter Hewat was not so much oddly beautiful as ugly, to the extent that he was not even considered amongst the 59 fairest players in the land. Having looked for beauty and found none, Knuckles did not care how many people may have swooned at the sight of Hewat, nor how ardently those admirers might have pressed for him to see things from a different angle; the boy was ugly and that was that.

The sight of Nicky Carle with the ball at his feet makes many fans swoon, but it appears that Pim Verbeek is not one of them. Some will consider this unsurprising, for if ever there was a player guaranteed to polarise observers of Australian football, it was surely Carle. After all, Nicky doesn’t do conventional. He doesn’t throw himself around like a Matt Simon, he doesn’t run all day like a Brett Emerton, he doesn’t hound opponents like a Vinny Grella- in fact, he doesn’t do anything the way we are accustomed to see it done. For Australians to admire a footballer, he usually has to be beautiful in an obvious way- a Hepburn, or, more to the point, a Pamela Anderson. And God knows that Nicky Carle is no Pamela Anderson.

That Graham Arnold, when he was Socceroos boss, did not hold a high opinion of Carle was only to be expected. He wanted his team to produce a physical style of football, in which the opposition would be outmuscled rather than outthought. The subtle gifts of Carle were wasted on a coach who valued athleticism over the ability to caress the ball, or play the incisive pass.



What is unexpected, though, is that Verbeek should also look down on Carle. Aren’t the Dutch meant to value technique over physique? To be sure, Verbeek has shown himself to be a pragmatist, but surely there is room for artists and artisans in the same team? It’s all very well including the likes of Grella and Carl Valeri to win the ball, but shouldn’t it then be given to somebody who knows how to use it?

Even Carle’s staunchest supporters acknowledge that there are several people ahead of him in the queue- Harry Kewell, Tim Cahill and Marco Bresciano, no less- while he also faces stiff competition from Jason Culina, Brett Holman, Mile Sterjovski and Scott McDonald. But how could Verbeek consider Shannon Cole, who was included in his squad, to be amongst the 35 best players in the country and not Carle? Cole has played a total of six top-flight games in his career, yet he is already adjudged a better prospect than the 2006-07 A-League player of the year. How is this possible?

The only explanation is the one that has already been given: beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. Different characteristics may catch different people’s eyes, but when somebody looks you over and decides that you’re ugly, no amount of preening is going to change their opinion. To adopt a metaphor that has lately been in vogue, you can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig. Pim Verbeek has looked Nicky Carle over and decided that he doesn’t like what he sees. Peter Hewat would no doubt advise Carle not to expect him expect him to change his mind anytime soon.
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Meet the new Lion King

September 3rd 2008 12:30
Brisbane Lions' new coach
Rugby fans: imagine, if you will, the following scenario.

With the Tri Nations delicately poised, and with the Bledisloe Cup on the line, the Australian Rugby Union decides to take a gamble, dumping Robbie Deans and replacing him with Tim Horan for the upcoming test match against New Zealand.

Absurd though this hypothetical scenario is, it is worth considering why it is so absurd. Yes, it would be illogical to rush in a new coach on the eve of such a crucial match. But the greater illogic would lie in awarding- at any time- such an important post to a rookie, whose only merits would be that he was once a star and that he currently works as a commentator. Everybody knows that experienced players generally perform better in big games than inexperienced players. Well, the same applies for coaches. When the Wallabies take to the field for their most important challenge since last year’s World Cup quarter final, their supporters can be content in the knowledge that they are being guided not by a famous novice, but by a wizened tactician, who has spent many years learning, honing and practicing his craft. That counts for something.

Brisbane Lions fans: imagine, if you will, the following scenario.

With your club missing out on the finals for the fourth consecutive year, and with your list featuring a number of impressive youngsters who seem to have the ability to lead you forward, management decides to take a gamble, replacing your vastly experienced coach with a television commentator.



It may seem harsh to describe Michael Voss as a commentator, but that is what he is. He is no longer a player. And, notwithstanding a brief stint as the boss of the AIS’s under-17 team, he has never been a coach. He is simply a commentator. When reduced to such terms, it seems extraordinary that the Lions should have been in such a rush to hire him. Was Bruce McAvaney unavailable?

Sport: The Australian Disease made similar comments several months ago, when it appeared likely that Voss would agree terms with the Gold Coast franchise. Yet despite criticising the “irrationality” of his mooted appointment, Gold Coast’s behaviour was far more rational than is Brisbane’s. The new organisation offered him a three year deal: for the first two, he would have been coaching his team in the state league, before drawing on that experience when taking charge of the Coast’s inaugural AFL season in 2011. Brisbane, however, sees no merit even in such a limited apprenticeship; instead, the board is bestowing its most important position on somebody without the qualifications and experience to fill it.

Unlikely though it sounds, chairman Tony Kelly insisted that the entire board was “fine” with the appointment of a “novice coach”. True, Kelly acknowledged, Voss “hasn’t coached at the AFL senior level,” but then again, “everyone has to start somewhere.” While the new man “may make mistakes,” he and the others were determined to “back him all the way.” And thus the board handed Voss the keys to its Ferrari, simply requesting that he learn how to drive whilst speeding down the highway.

Given such irresponsibility, it seems appropriate to subject the board to some scrutiny. One might assume that it was filled by diehard fans or oft-concussed ex-players, who were so keen on the idea of their beloved Vossy returning to the club that they naively allowed his aura to affect their judgement. A quick examination of the Brisbane website, however, shows otherwise. Tony Kelly, the chairman, is also deputy chairman of the Brisbane Markets and a director of the Gladstone Ports Corporation. Angus Johnson, his deputy, serves as a managing director for Citimark Properties. As for the directors, Linda Nash is a senior member of the Queensland Treasury Corporation’s Major Projects Team, David Liddy is chief executive of the Bank of Queensland, and Paul Williams is a consultant who recently served as the CEO of Eastern Corporation. The final director, Laurie Serafini, is the only one of them to have played the game at the top level- yet even he holds a senior corporate position, acting as the head of sport: sales and marketing for the Slade Group.

How could such clever people have made such a manifestly illogical decision? The only explanation is that they, too, must have fallen under a spell- of Vossy in particular, and footy in general. If Liddy was looking to fill an upper-level vacancy at BQ, it is inconceivable that he would consider candidates who lacked a relevant degree and banking experience. That, after all, would be illogical. Yet in sport, different rules are allowed to apply. Business, with its sales volumes and balance sheets, must be rooted in logic, otherwise jobs are lost and companies ruined. However, sport, with its heroic competitors and screaming fans, is driven by emotion.

If Kelly et al owe their positions on Brisbane’s board to their corporate experience, then surely it is incumbent on them to apply the lessons they have learned in the corporate world when managing the club’s affairs? They could never have risen so high unless they possessed considerable intelligence and strong analytical skills. These intellectual gifts should have been exercised when it came time to selecting Leigh Matthews’s successor. For any old fool can make decisions based on passion- few, though, are as well placed as them to make decisions based on reason.

And that is the crux of the matter. Voss has become the new Lions coach not because he is qualified or experienced or the most accomplished, but simply because it warms the hearts of a few influential people. He is nothing more than a commentator with an aura. Granted, Michael Voss was a champion player. But as for Michael Voss the coach, it doesn’t take a Bruce McAvaney to realise that he’s nothing special.
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The more one sees of Graham Arnold, the less there is to like. To the unhappy list of misguided tactics, poor management and thoughtless statements can now be added breathtakingly illogical selections.

Arnold, who serves as both an assistant to Socceroos’ coach Pim Verbeek and Olympic team boss, has just announced his 18 man squad for Beijing. Oddly, although he managed to find room for Nikita Rukavytsya and Billy Celeski, he could not accommodate the talented young duo of Bruce Djite and Nathan Burns, both of whom are full internationals. Further surprises came with the omission of David Williams and James Holland, who recently received their first senior caps. One might be tempted to believe that Arnie had lost his marbles, if not for the fact that he probably never had them in the first place


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