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Carney's army makes us stand to attention Jim Morrison
December 24, 2010
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Hits and memories ... Simon Dwyer flattens Jared Waerea-Hargreaves. Photo: Getty Images
The Roosters and Tigers had Jim Morrison on the edge of his bar stool in their amazing semi-final.
They say rugby union is the game they play in heaven. But if the eternal kingdom is all it's cracked up to be, rugby league will be shown on the big screen seven nights a week.
And if the mail about God being such a great bloke is true, the big man will have a DVD of this year's Wests Tigers-Sydney Roosters semi-final - all 99 glorious minutes of it - on repeat play.
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Todd Carney and his teammates celebrate their win over the Tigers. Photo: Simon Alekna
The match was the most astonishing of the 2010 season, elevated to the unforgettable category by dint of a climax so dramatic even Shane Warne's scriptwriter would have rejected it as too far-fetched.
From the outset, it had all the right ingredients for a rugby league feast: two well-supported Sydney teams peaking at the right stage of the season, featuring the two most exciting players in the comp - Benji Marshall and Todd Carney - going head to head at a full-to-bursting SFS.
I had gone to the pub that night, to catch up with an old friend. Televised sport can often be a curse in such situations, stifling conversation as attention drifts to the Rushden & Diamonds versus Grimsby Town blockbuster playing out on the box. But this was not one of them. We were glued to the plasma from the get-go.
The first 40 minutes were played at - to use a standard rugby league simile - Origin-like intensity. Lote Tuqiri barged over for the first try in the 27th minute, Beau Ryan crossed on the other flank with four minutes of the first half remaining, and the Tigers went in 10-2 in front. Eight minutes into the second period, Blake Ayshford bagged the Tigers' third four-pointer, and when a Robbie Farah field goal made it 15-2 with barely 25 minutes left, the Roosters were hanging by a thread.
Enter Carney. The precocious five-eighth had won the Dally M medal earlier in the week - the latest milestone on the road to redemption for a young man drummed out of the Canberra Raiders and barred from his home town of Goulburn for criminal idiocy.
But he wasn't about to leave it at that. Carney proceeded to take the game by the scruff of the neck, set up tries for Braith Anasta and Mitchell Pearce and converted them both, hauling the Roosters back to within a point with five minutes to play.
The atmosphere in the bar was, well, intoxicating. Toothless crones bedecked in tricolours traded insults with burly, beanie-wearing workers in black and orange. Beer flowed like wine. It was just like being at the game, but better. As the replays flashed up, Ray ''Rabbits'' Warren and ''Gus'' Gould agreed on something for the first time since 1981 - the Chooks had more guts than an episode of The Biggest Loser.
As we moved into the final minute, Jared Waerea-Hargreaves carted the ball up for the Roosters … right smack into the biggest hit of the year. Simon Dwyer's brutal bell-ringer, which dispossessed the Kiwi of the ball, would have uprooted a telegraph pole. It earned the Tigers a priceless scrum feed and left the Roosters medics urgently trying to locate a shovel to scrape Waerea-Hargreaves off the pitch.
But as the forwards packed down and Farah fed the scrum, something did not seem right. The Tigers appeared disoriented, and a bit of pressure from the Roosters caused the scrum to come apart. Suddenly the ball was sitting up on the turf, there to be won, seemingly without a player within five metres. Chris Heighington stared aghast as Roosters forward Frank-Paul Nuuausala flopped gleefully upon it to complete that rarest of occurrences in the 13-man code, a scrum won against the feed.
The next thing the Tigers knew, Anthony Minichiello was flicking the ball to Anasta, 30 metres out on the angle. The skipper looked up. dropped it on to his right boot. The buzzer sounded, the ball sailed high between the posts. We were going to golden point …
The next 19 minutes produced a procession of the worst field-goal attempts of this or any other season. By that point the sides craved the win so badly they would have put up their souls as barter, but it seemed a replay would be the unpalatable outcome.
However, just as the punters in the pub were turning their thoughts to the next round of drinks, Tigers forward Liam Fulton threw a pass that landed square on the chest of Shaun Kenny-Dowall. All eyes were instantly on the screen as the Roosters flyer pinned back his ears and bolted into the night. About halfway to the try line it became apparent he wasn't going to be stopped.
If there is anything better than the thrill of such a last-gasp, matchwinning try, it's knowing for at least five seconds beforehand that said try is going to be scored. Kenny-Dowall dived over right beneath a couple of thousand utterly ecstatic Roosters fans. Game over, 19-15.
What a match. What theatre. What a joy to stand in a pub full of baying fanatics with a mate and a schooner of Coopers green and lose yourself for a few hours on a September Saturday night in Sydney.
December 24, 2010
.
Hits and memories ... Simon Dwyer flattens Jared Waerea-Hargreaves. Photo: Getty Images
The Roosters and Tigers had Jim Morrison on the edge of his bar stool in their amazing semi-final.
They say rugby union is the game they play in heaven. But if the eternal kingdom is all it's cracked up to be, rugby league will be shown on the big screen seven nights a week.
And if the mail about God being such a great bloke is true, the big man will have a DVD of this year's Wests Tigers-Sydney Roosters semi-final - all 99 glorious minutes of it - on repeat play.
Advertisement: Story continues below
Todd Carney and his teammates celebrate their win over the Tigers. Photo: Simon Alekna
The match was the most astonishing of the 2010 season, elevated to the unforgettable category by dint of a climax so dramatic even Shane Warne's scriptwriter would have rejected it as too far-fetched.
From the outset, it had all the right ingredients for a rugby league feast: two well-supported Sydney teams peaking at the right stage of the season, featuring the two most exciting players in the comp - Benji Marshall and Todd Carney - going head to head at a full-to-bursting SFS.
I had gone to the pub that night, to catch up with an old friend. Televised sport can often be a curse in such situations, stifling conversation as attention drifts to the Rushden & Diamonds versus Grimsby Town blockbuster playing out on the box. But this was not one of them. We were glued to the plasma from the get-go.
The first 40 minutes were played at - to use a standard rugby league simile - Origin-like intensity. Lote Tuqiri barged over for the first try in the 27th minute, Beau Ryan crossed on the other flank with four minutes of the first half remaining, and the Tigers went in 10-2 in front. Eight minutes into the second period, Blake Ayshford bagged the Tigers' third four-pointer, and when a Robbie Farah field goal made it 15-2 with barely 25 minutes left, the Roosters were hanging by a thread.
Enter Carney. The precocious five-eighth had won the Dally M medal earlier in the week - the latest milestone on the road to redemption for a young man drummed out of the Canberra Raiders and barred from his home town of Goulburn for criminal idiocy.
But he wasn't about to leave it at that. Carney proceeded to take the game by the scruff of the neck, set up tries for Braith Anasta and Mitchell Pearce and converted them both, hauling the Roosters back to within a point with five minutes to play.
The atmosphere in the bar was, well, intoxicating. Toothless crones bedecked in tricolours traded insults with burly, beanie-wearing workers in black and orange. Beer flowed like wine. It was just like being at the game, but better. As the replays flashed up, Ray ''Rabbits'' Warren and ''Gus'' Gould agreed on something for the first time since 1981 - the Chooks had more guts than an episode of The Biggest Loser.
As we moved into the final minute, Jared Waerea-Hargreaves carted the ball up for the Roosters … right smack into the biggest hit of the year. Simon Dwyer's brutal bell-ringer, which dispossessed the Kiwi of the ball, would have uprooted a telegraph pole. It earned the Tigers a priceless scrum feed and left the Roosters medics urgently trying to locate a shovel to scrape Waerea-Hargreaves off the pitch.
But as the forwards packed down and Farah fed the scrum, something did not seem right. The Tigers appeared disoriented, and a bit of pressure from the Roosters caused the scrum to come apart. Suddenly the ball was sitting up on the turf, there to be won, seemingly without a player within five metres. Chris Heighington stared aghast as Roosters forward Frank-Paul Nuuausala flopped gleefully upon it to complete that rarest of occurrences in the 13-man code, a scrum won against the feed.
The next thing the Tigers knew, Anthony Minichiello was flicking the ball to Anasta, 30 metres out on the angle. The skipper looked up. dropped it on to his right boot. The buzzer sounded, the ball sailed high between the posts. We were going to golden point …
The next 19 minutes produced a procession of the worst field-goal attempts of this or any other season. By that point the sides craved the win so badly they would have put up their souls as barter, but it seemed a replay would be the unpalatable outcome.
However, just as the punters in the pub were turning their thoughts to the next round of drinks, Tigers forward Liam Fulton threw a pass that landed square on the chest of Shaun Kenny-Dowall. All eyes were instantly on the screen as the Roosters flyer pinned back his ears and bolted into the night. About halfway to the try line it became apparent he wasn't going to be stopped.
If there is anything better than the thrill of such a last-gasp, matchwinning try, it's knowing for at least five seconds beforehand that said try is going to be scored. Kenny-Dowall dived over right beneath a couple of thousand utterly ecstatic Roosters fans. Game over, 19-15.
What a match. What theatre. What a joy to stand in a pub full of baying fanatics with a mate and a schooner of Coopers green and lose yourself for a few hours on a September Saturday night in Sydney.
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