Something Quite Remarkable.

I did this once, but there was nobody around to see...

The Dark Side, Big-Scary Men and the Nazis

My original title for this blog was "Embracing The Dark Side, Nazis and Big-Big Men."  While I'm sure it would prove to be a sensationally successful headline, I was slightly afraid of what sort of demographic I would be attracting to these hallowed pages.


Well reader(s), it has been quite a while. As much as I could blame that on getting a job with which I was clocking 84 painful hours a week and the end of the regular rugby season, that would be lies. A mixture of inherent laziness and StumbleUpon have combined to reduce my intelligent output catastrophically. On the plus side, I now know more about Boeing aircraft than I did two months ago, and probably more than anyone who doesn't work for Boeing probably should.


So, you happy few, here is my latest blog on the world of the oval ball.


Unfortunately, the Gods of up on high have decreed that as punishment for my continual refusal to accept that Rugby League is more interesting than slapping two pieces of gammon together for 80 minutes, I must endure two weeks of work placement at Super League high-flyers Warrington Wolves. I say endure...I was desperate and they rescued me, so all credit to the kind souls.


However, I have had to learn a lot about the game in a short space of time, especially considering a man capable of this is technically my colleague.


Having attended a training session and watched the Wolves in action, I have come to two conclusions;

Hard men wear primrose

1. To succeed in Rugby League, you don't need to be the biggest, or the strongest, or the fastest. You have to be all three at once, and have the same cavalier attitude to 'doing things by the book' as the disaffected son of John Rambo and Dirty Harry.


2. Michael Monaghan is class.


Now, I don't claim to be an authority. I also realise that I am a Johnny-Come-Lately to the whole RL thing. But I have never seen one man command a game of touch and pass like that the Australian hooker. Everything ran through him, his distribution and vision were spot on, and he pulled off one of the most outrageous behind-the-back flicks I have seen. 


This weekend sees the Wolves taking on Wakefield. Now, Super League is known for its surprises, but it appears to be foolish to expect the Wildcats to do anything other than lose, and lose heavily.


However, I have found myself embroiled in continual and increasingly violent arguments over the respective merits of the two codes. My beloved Union is mentioned in the same breath as various oppressive dictatorships, evil-overlords and the price of fuel. The sins of Union appear to be three-fold; 

  

Good at being evil,
rubbish at drop-goals

1. It is too slow 


2. It is exclusively played by posh, toffee-nosed wankers.


3. The Nazis loved it.




The counter-argument, of course, is that Rugby League is a simple-game for simple people, and is less of a sport and more of an excuse to put on eye-wateringly tight shorts for a car-park style brawl. Both sides have significant validity to the claim. 

Rugby League suffers from a significant lack of national profile, and despite its claim to be Sky's second most watched sport, it still doesn't receive the coverage it craves. Much scratching of heads and stroking of beards appears to have achieved very little and although Sky Sports are continuing to pump money into the Engage Super League, the lack of interest from beyond the heartland is worrying.

Hull

But why? It is a faster, simpler game and it played in the summer months which mean that you don't have to suffer going to Hull in the middle of January.


Perhaps we are coming at the whole problem from the wrong way. The national media is blamed for not taking an interest in Rugby League, but at the same time, Rugby League seems to pride itself on being the stereotypical Fred Dibnah. The answer might be to engage the regional and national media pro-actively. Seek them out, provide them with content and they in turn will seek to promote you. Journalists are inherently lazy, and regional news services will accept almost any story as long as the leg work is done for them. 


Super League clubs - get a camera, get a half-decent computer, get a local student who will do it all for buttons and send what you film over to whichever smoke-filled dungeon the local BBC newsdesk is located in.


Promote yourselves as the most accessible, media-friendly sport on the market. Journalists spend their lives fighting with press-officers for access to football players and staff and often get very little in return for the slavish promotional work that classes as 'reporting on a press conference'. If you want to get a story out, spoon feed it to a broadcaster. Tell them they can interview players, coaches, back-room staff. Give them content, and they will love you. 


And finally, how many times a week does someone use the phrase "overpaid footballers"? [insert "if I had a penny..." joke here] 


You don't get prima-donnas in Rugby League. You get blokes from Hull who like the gym and going to the pub. Chris Ashton got on tv, chatted away like a northerner and has become a cult hero. And although Jamie Peacock may sound like he plays in the sand-pit while the other children do algebra, they aren't as thick as you might want to believe. 

It takes a little bit more work, but if you want to take Rugby League out of the pits then it is much needed. There is a great product out there, but maybe it just needs a bit more of an aggressive push for it to be picked up by the mainstream media and bring new fans in from beyond the traditional bases. 


Oh, and if you live in Warrington, stop reading this immediately. Go out, get down to the Halliwell Jones Stadium, and nip into the Tesco across the car-park. Go inside. Thornton's chocolates are on special at the moment. Buy them all, walk over to the main reception and hand them into the front desk. Its the least you can do. They are good people and they deserve your thanks. 


Without them, you would have to support Widnes.... and nobody deserves that. 


Dankjewel!