We all have them; dreams that is. Some dreams come true, some don’t.

You see, I had a dream, a dream that Jesse Ryder has put his errant ways of putting his fist through glass panes behind him. That he no longer went into emergency wards yelling “don’t you know who I am”. We all know who you are, Jesse.
I dreamed a dream that Jesse Ryder has finally got off the bottle. That he has seen that booze is a cure for nothing. You still wake up the next morning and the problems you had yesterday are still there today.That you have realised that all your so called “mates” that egg you on to have one more drink and be the life and soul of the party aren’t really your mates. Hey, they would be nowhere to be seen if you weren’t well known. But, Jesse, you don’t need them. They’re not really your friends.
I dreamed a dream of a dream that Jesse Ryder becomes as comfortable with himself away from the crease as he is at it. That he finds that inner peace that will allow him to fulfil his enormous potential. To let him float like a butterfly and sting like a bee when opposing bowlers deliver balls that he is capable of swatting away like flies.You see, Jesse, your true fans, we all like you just the way you are.

I had a dream, a dream that New Zealand cricket stood up to the convoluted egos within the Black Caps. That Justin Vaughan and the New Zealand Cricket Board structured the player’s payments to be focused more on results. Oh, see how things start to turn around, then.
I had a dream of a dream that Daniel Vettori takes his medicine and accept that one person having as much control as he desired does more harm than good. That he is retained as captain, but loses all his other roles leading to him concentrating on what he should be concerned about: what occurs on the field.
I dreamed a dream of a dream that New Zealand cricket finally sees the light and appoints John Wright as coach. That they come to realise that Wright coached India successfully for five years- and eternity in cricketing terms- hence, obviously having the organisational skills for the job, as well as the necessary coaching no-how.

I had a dream, a dream that come January, as we settle down to the Heineken Open and a touch of tennis with strawberries and cream and a dash of champagne on the side, we will not be subjected to that diatribe of the senses that is grunting.
I dreamed a dream that Serena Williams was in the near vicinity, ready to shove a tennis ball down the throat of any player that dares to force the crowd and the television viewer to listen to this insanity. Maybe she could even force a ball down her own throat, too. Oh the silence, how sublime.
I dreamed a dream of a dream that local lass Marina Erakovich powers her way back up the world rankings just in time to make a heart-warming tilt at tournament glory.That she puts New Zealand tennis back on the map instead of its current position in the deep dark carvasses that it currently lurks.

I had a dream, a dream that the words rest and rotation make a hasty retreat into the realms of darkness as they do a miraculous disappearing act from our vocabulary, never to be heard of again. That as we held our collective breathes, the sporting public were pleasantly surprised that these words that can no longer be named didn’t rare their ugly heads once again.
I dreamed a dream that any coach of a National sporting side that even so much as contemplated using those words that can no longer be named is punished by being locked in a room and forced to watch yet another replay of the All Blacks quarter-final match at the 2007 World Cup.
I dreamed a dream of a dream that as those words that can no longer be named will not be used in preparation for any major sporting event, players were no longer getting injured as regularly due to the obvious fact that as they were playing more, their bodies would become use to the rigours of a contact sport and no longer get injured so often.

But, then, this was just a dream: wasn't it?

Just as the sporting population of this fine country of ours was feeling all warm and fuzzy over the splendid efforts of our Commonwealth games athletes, along comes a sporting team determined to take the sheen off. A team so well practised in the dark arts of poor performance, that to expect them to contribute a high standard of cricket day in, day out would be as attainable as submerging themselves in a vat of molten lava and living to tell the tale.
Who am I eluding too, you may well ask? Well, I’ll tell you . . .yep, the Black Caps, of course. Yes, those titans of world cricket, those sultans of cricketing excellence, and those modern day wonders of that tough as nails mentality that wins matches so readily.
Just when they have produced a solid series performance and you think it is safe to assume that there is some light appearing at the end of the tunnel, they then travel to their next destination and proceed to supply a run of bumbling efforts such as their recent clashes with those heavyweights of world cricket, Bangladesh. That tunnel once again becomes a dim dark hell hole leaving you wishing that you could venture off to fifty thousand feet and jump out of an aeroplane without a parachute, all the while having your googlies frozen off as you freefall and calculate how long it will take you to plummet to a rather snappy oblivion.
Okay, admittedly, Bangladesh are a side on the improve. And it was played in Bangladesh on slow turning tracks that suited the locals. But this was Bangladesh, for heaven’s sake. Not only did they lose 4-0, but, did they even look remotely capable of winning a match? Not on your Nellie.
Perhaps this is a cunning ploy on the part of captain, coach, selector Daniel Vettori to lure their opposition in the upcoming World Cup into a false sense of security. If so, one would suggest that he’s onto a winner with this well thought out strategy. What better way to achieve this than giving a mighty fine impersonation of a team that can’t bat, bowl and catch. And after watching the New Zealander’s over the last week, what team could not fall for this dastardly scheme. To expect any opposition to take this lot seriously is simply asking the impossible. So, a World Cup win is a given, then.
The sad thing about the state of the national team is that they clearly possess some very talented individual’s in the form of Vettori, Brendon McCullum, Jessie Ryder and Ross Taylor. Then they have youngster Kane Williamson to add to the mix. All the cricketing experts have said they he is a superstar in the making. The best technique of any batsman in the country, they say. Clearly for good reason, too, as even a cricketing layman can see the kid has talent. Yet here he is, thrown into a team delving deeply into the realms of mediocrity, struggling for runs. Let us hope that such a superb cricketing talent does not fall by the wayside.
Which could well happen if New Zealand cricket does not eliminate the cancerous parts before they become maligment. However, knowing there is a problem and actually finding viable solutions to solve those issues are two totally different things altogether.
Twenty/twenty cricket is not helping their situation. With the ever increasing popularity of the newer version of the game, power has shifted somewhat in the players favour. With the money that can now be earned for six weeks work in the Indian league, players can now threaten to forgo signing with New Zealand cricket and go on the open market as a freelancer.
That added bargaining tool has already seen player power pull enough strings to have Andy Moles removed as coach. They wanted a better technical coach, was their reasoning. Fair enough, except, that since Mark Greatbatch has been appointed as Moles successor, nothing has changed. In fact, one could argue that they have lost ground under Greatbatch’s watch.
Having said that, blame cannot be solely aimed at Greatbatch. He has not been in the job all that long and Vettori has to take his share of responsibility for the current crisis within the team. It was he who wanted complete control over his and the team’s destiny. Trouble with being the recipient of large doses of power is that when the results do not occur in a favourable light, the spotlight of dissatisfaction soon turns its bright glare on you.
So, the pressure must surely be weighing on Vettori’s mind. How could it not? Maybe it is time for him to relinquish some of his added roles and concentrate his efforts on leading his team, instead of worrying about what power he has within New Zealand cricket. And if he won’t take a step backwards for the good of the Black Caps, then, the time has come for Justin Vaughan and New Zealand cricket to stand up to Vettori and the player power within the side and regain control. Even if that means stepping on some large but fragile egos.And even if that means some players decide to pass on representing their country. Yes, it may mean a weaker Black Caps unit, but then, they can’t sink much lower than what they have recently.
So, let’s see how much this current mob really desire playing for New Zealand.

The path to grand final day is a road travelled by many over the years. Once there, some turn onto the highway that takes them to the ultimate in rugby league glory; a grand final victory. Others though aren’t so lucky. Some will collect grand finals medals more than once; others will never achieve that honour. Some coaches will mentor their sides to victory. In Wayne Bennett’s case, six times. Others will try on numerous occasions but miss out on the ultimate prize; just ask Brian Smith.
Grand finals take no prisoners. No one is spared their wrath. The glare of a capacity crowd on a team can have its impact. Half of that crowd baying for your team’s blood. And then there are thirteen opposition players; they’re not fond of you, either.
The 2010 vintage pitted the attack of the Sydney Roosters up against the discipline and defence of the St George Dragons in an all-Sydney grand final. A first, that, since 2004. The former, a team that finished last in 2009, who under the tutelage of Brian Smith achieved one of the most stunning form reversals in the last seventy years by reaching the grand final. The latter, the once mighty Dragons who had dominated rugby league in the sixties and seventies- but had not won since 1979- had of late become known for their inconsistency. So St George brought in Bennett two years ago to rotate things around for them. But would Wayne’s world bring them that title that they so coveted?
Time would only tell. First there was eighty minutes of energy sapping tackling to complete, bone rattling hits to take, oxygen depleting runs to make, not to mention wet, muddy conditions to navigate. Oh, then there was the pressure cooker environment created by an electric atmosphere that required negotiating.
This is the stuff that sorts the men from the boys. Where you know that a searching examination of one’s mental fortitude is a given. The meek need not apply.
There was nothing meek about the Roosters defence early on. They sent several troops in regularly to extinguish any attacking fires that St George may light. Of the two sides, it was the Roosters who looked the more composed and confident. On the flipside, it was the Dragons that appeared to be suffering from nerves. Michael Weyman knocked on after only ninety seconds. The Roosters threw everything they had at the Dragons during the opening five minutes.
Still, champion sides will take the knocks, then, when opportunity knocks, they open the door and greet it with open arms. This the Dragons did in the 7th minute when in one of their rare forays into the Roosters half thus far, Jamie Soward put up a bomb into the Roosters in-goal. Mark Gasnier chased through and soared above the defence to claim the steeden and touchdown for his 86th career try. With Soward’s conversion, Dragons supporters would have been hearing the first words of the “saints come marching home” entering their thought processes.
Moments earlier, Roosters coach Brian Smith, was seen sitting calmly in the coaches box. Having lost all three of his grand finals appearances as a coach, he must have been wondering if this was going to be number four.
If it hadn’t, it should have crossed his mind over the next ten minutes, as St George started to create some major damage up the middle of the ruck through their forwards. It was relentless and Sydney City was struggling to contain their foe.
Which made it all the more remarkable when the Roosters turned around their predicament with two tries in the space of three minutes. The first in the 16th minute to Dally M captain of the year, Braith Anasta, then followed not long after by Mitch Aubessen, who scythed his way through the usually dependable Dragons defence.
8-6 ahead and momentum has swung back to the Roosters. For the next fifteen minutes they had their way with the match. At various times their fans held sway with a high decibel Roosters chant. Their presence was being felt, and so was their team’s. Bennett, on the other hand looked on grimly as his side absorbed copious amounts of punishment. Not for him to panic though. He had been through it all before in his coaching career that began in 1976. There are some that claim he is the greatest rugby league coach of all time. And not for no reason, either. Any side of Bennett’s is going to hang on for dear life until the tide slowly but surely turns. And that’s what it did.
Soon it was the Dragons portion of the crowd that were finding their voice in the 46th minute as Jason Nightingale dived over in the right corner to reclaim the lead for his side. A splendid sideline conversion from Soward and the St George fans were in raptures.
12-8 isn’t much of lead, though. Bennett knew it when he displayed a rare show of emotion five minutes later as Nathan Fien knocks on from dummy-half. Had the dragons left the door slightly ajar for the Roosters to slip through? Fortunately for Fien the answer was no. In fact, it was the Dragons that came home with a wet sail. In the 60th minute Nightingale was at it again as he once again graced the right corner with his presence as he helped his team extend their lead to ten. Soward added the extra two. It was now a twelve point lead, and things were starting to look ominous for the Roosters.
Their composure was beginning to unravel at a great rate of knots. Errors that wouldn’t normally be committed during the regular season were appearing at the most inopportune times. The Dragon’s sensed that they had their enemy under unbearable pressure. The time was nigh to tighten their grip on the NRL trophy. Dean Young was partially responsible for this as he scored under the crossbar.
Out to a 24-8 lead, the Dragons put the final nail in the Roosters coffin when Fien dived over despite the intentions of two defenders. With another conversion to Soward, the Dragons had won their first premiership in thirty-one years. I had been a long wait, but it turns out that Wayne’s world was the right one for St George.
Walking down from his coaching box, Bennett was all smiles as he shook hands with supporters on his way to the sideline. What he had given so many Dragons fans was a reason to smile. The chance to celebrate a grand final win which many old timers would have wondered whether it would be achieved again in their lifetime. Something for the youngsters of today to remember and aspire to be a part of in the future. The famous V was back in all its glory.
The emotion of the moment seeped into the occasion. None more so than for Dean Young and his father, Craig, who was Captain of the 1979 winning team, as they embraced. The tears emanated as one was able to step out from the others shadow and stand tall as equals, two men who had tackled head on the toughest rugby league arena of all, and conquered.
There were others yelling, whooping, high fiving; they had got to experience the joy of reaching the pinnacle of what only a select few achieve.
Meanwhile, there were Roosters players strewn around the field devastated that fate had dealt them so cruel a fate. Not sure they will ever get another chance.
But, they are a young team on the way up. Their time may yet still come. And if they need any added motivation, all they needed to do was take a glimpse at the ecstasy on the faces of their rivals.
That’s what could be in stall for them if they remember what the pain of a defeat was like and use it as positive for the future.

There can’t have been many stranger sights back in the seventies than that of Onny Parun standing at the service line , all the while biting on a piece of string, as he prepared to serve.
Odd it may have been, but, one should never knock what clearly works. And work it did for the Wellington born Parun, who used the string to hold his head in place while serving due to a neck injury. That it could have prematurely ended the career of one of New Zealand’s finest tennis players would have been a travesty.
But, it didn’t deter Parun, who with some good old fashioned Kiwi number eight wire ingenuity came up with a solution to prolong his career. And there surely must have been many a Kiwi tennis fan that will be forever grateful that Parun was able to play on well into his thirties.
Parun, born in 1947 and of Croatian descent, paraded his ability on the word stage for close to seventeen years from 1966. During that time he became one of only three New Zealanders to reach a grand slam singles final. Having reached the 1973 Australian Open final against John Newcombe he fell at the last hurdle. Still, it was a magnificent achievement. Only Anthony Wilding before him had reached a grand slam final (Chris Lewis was ten years away at that stage). A quarterfinal spot at the US open also beckoned that same year.
Parun had threatened to for some time to break through to the top echelons of world tennis. He had already reached the quarterfinals of Wimbledon in 1971 and 1972 and was holding a world ranking of 20 during those two years. So, with his first grand slam final appearance in 73, he had definitely made it in the world of tennis. That form stayed with him for another three years as his ranking remained in the top twenty, culminating in a career high of eighteen in May 1975.
During that five year span, Parun was to team up with Australian Dick Crealy in 1974 to win the men’s doubles at the French Open. Surely, a fitting result for a player that had toiled away for so long, working hard on his game and never giving up, too come away with some of the spoils in a major tournament.
It wasn’t just doubles titles that Parun had the tenacity to procure. From 1974 through to 1976, he collected himself five ATP tour singles titles. Fitting, too, that two of these (1975/76) were in front of his home crowd at the then named Benson and Hedges Open, played at the home of New Zealand tennis, Stanley Street. On both occasions he beat his fellow countryman in Brian Fairlie. The 1975 vintage was of a titanic struggle. Plentiful action abounded in his marathon five set victory. One year later they did their version of Groundhog Day when they once again went into battle. Once again Parun prevailed in five sets.
Throughout his career, Parun could never be accused of a lack of commitment towards playing for his country. From early 1967 as a teenager through until 1982 at the age of thirty-five, he was the backbone of this country’s Davis Cup squad. Along with a core group of players of the ilk of Fairlie, Lewis and Russell Simpson, he helped New Zealand from the mid seventies until the early eighties to an unparalleled level of success in what is the tennis world’s premier team’s event.
Parun won thirty of thirty-two Davis Cup matches. This at first glance may not appear anything startling. However, over his fifteen years he had to contend with some of the world’s best such as Rod Laver, Newcombe, the great Ken Rosewall as well as the likes of Indian Vijay Armitraj. Pretty lofty company, indeed. To come close to a fifty percent winning record over a lengthy period was a mighty performance.
After his retirement from professional tennis, Parun, went on to live and coached successfully in Britain for twenty years. Which was a shame for New Zealand tennis to miss out on a person of the quality of Parun. And tennis, here, certainly could have done with his help, as it these days appears to be in downward spiral into oblivion.
Over the last decade he has returned to New Zealand and now coaches in Wellington. But there is no sign of Parun being approached to manage the Davis Cup squad. What better person could there be to help tennis in this country out of the doldrums? For Parun was a man that got results throughout his career not just from talent but, also, sheer hard work.
Despite this, he has been recognised in the form of an OBE for services to tennis.
It is a richly deserved reward for Parun who has dedicated his life to the game he loves, not to mention helping young players achieve their dreams.

Significantly different this finals football, isn’t it? A step up in intensity as well as a faster pace than some of you have ever experienced prior to this. Despite this, you blokes from the New Zealand Warriors gave it your all tonight up against the Gold Coast Titans at Skilled Park. You scored three tries, they scored five, and it showed as you were playing catch up football for the last twenty-five minutes of the first half, and at the back end of the match.
Sure, you had your moments, and one could have been forgiven for thinking that you were going to run away with the match, for during the opening fifteen minutes you had much the better of proceedings.
James Maloney made a tremendous try saving tackle on Titan’s winger Kevin Gordon early on. Once again Maloney was one of your best. Handles pressure well, doesn’t he. And he didn’t give away a penalty all night long. His kicking game was great for you; nearly gained a 40/20 on two occasions. But, not quite. All the same, some excellent metres were gained through his judicious use of the boot.
This was on the back of some fierce go forward as you directed your big forwards up the middle of the park. It paid handsome dividends as you gained large amounts of territory, too. Russell Packer led the way. So young, and yet plays well beyond his years. Just imagine how good this guy’s going to be in five years time. Not far behind were Captain Simon Mannering and Michael Luck. And what about Michael Luck, eh? Only three weeks ago he suffered one of the most horrendous leg gashes seen in the game of league when his left thigh was opened up so badly that it required fifty stitches. Wouldn’t play for the remainder of the season, some said. Yet, here he was, back after only three weeks. Tough as nails, he is. Balls bigger than basketballs, most would assume of this guy.
All this possession and you did what would be expected of any team in such a situation: you opened the scoring with a try to Aaron Heremia in the 7th minute. With the conversion to James Maloney, you had a 6-0 lead and looked like you were on your way to a home match in week two of the finals series.
But, you hit somewhat of a speed bump. A couple of penalties against you and a try to William Zillman in the 18th minute brought you all back to earth with a thud. For a time it seemed to take the stuffing out of you, as you seemed to be a touch on the flat side. The pace of the game looked to be taking its toll on you, as you were starting to miss tackles. None more so than in the 32nd minute as Zillman went over for his second try of the night and his side’s third. That he managed to bust through three tacklers and scoot away for a try ten metres wide of the left upright was not a glowing endorsement of your usually miserly defensive qualities. The 27026 strong crowd were in raptures.
Not long after, their delight became downright luminous, as in the 36th minute Matt Rogers had you all dumbfounded when he took an inside pass and run fifteen metres to score the Titan’s fourth try.
It wasn’t looking good for you at 22-6 down going into the break. But, to your credit, you came out in the second half and threw everything you had at the Titans. You began to gain momentum and gain a level of dominance over the locals. Two tries, one in the 48th minute to Jerome Ropati’s replacement Joel Moon, and then another to Manu Vatuvei -which gave “The Beast” the club try scoring record- in the 59th minute and it seemed that you were well and truly on your way back.
That was until Vatuvei undid all his good work by attempting to offload in an untenable position on the first tackle of an attacking set of six. This was not the first time that he has been guilty of such an act this season. Perhaps this is one of the few weaknesses in his game, currently.
What was worse for you was that this led to the Titan’s scoring in the next passage of play with a try in the left corner to Kevin Gordon. 28-16 to Gold Coast and this is where the score stayed.
You tried your mightiest for the remaining twenty minutes, but it seemed that the harder you pressed the worse you got. There were uncharacteristic errors from the likes of Lance Hohaia. You seemed to lose your focus on attack over the quarter of an hour. Why? Was it the pressure? It must have been hard, but all you had to do was maintain your composure. After all, you were starting to put the heat on the Titan’s during the third quarter. They were starting to wither against your onslaught, too.
But, it was not to be, as the Titan’s held on to their hopes of premiership glory in four weeks time.
Not so for you lot though. A nervous time over the coming two days awaits you as your fate is now in the hands of others as the wheel of fortune is spun.
You can only sit around hoping that it lands on the prize you now desire the most; the chance to redress tonight’s failings with a second chance somewhere, sometime in Australia next weekend.

It was always going to be a difficult little assignment. Up against a side that was out of contention for a finals spot, thus having nothing to play for other than pride, with a predilection for ad lib football was not the most intoxicating way to spend an evening.
But the New Zealand Warriors managed it with remarkable sang-froid in their 26-12 win over the Parramatta Eels in Sydney tonight. While they did commit some unnecessary errors at times, generally they stuck to the basics for the majority of the match. For them this meant gaining good go-forward early in the tackle count before any consideration was given to emitting the ball wide to their outside backs. Their young props Sam Rapira and Russell Packer were in fine fettle as they led the way with a rampaging display of power running.
What was best of all though was a stupendous defensive effort on their part. This has fast become the Warriors trademark.
And they showed in the opening five minutes just why teams have had so much trouble breaking through their defence. Parramatta had all the ball over the opening exchanges and threw plenty of attack at the Warriors. Despite this the Warriors held firm and then proceeded to pile on an inordinately large amount of pressure of their own right back on the Eels. After having forced their antagonists through the agony of four goal line drop-outs between the 8th and 13th minutes, Parramatta’s defence finally succumbed as Brett Seymour went to his left side attack before putting in a grubber kick for Centre Jerome Ropati to gather and dive over in the tackle of Jarrod Hayne in the left corner.
A promising start, it has to be said. This, sadly, was undone thirteen minutes later through inattention on the part of the Warriors players. Having just conceded a penalty and two metres out from their own line, the sharp minded Timana Tahu spied an opportunity when he took a quick tap and hurled his body over the Warriors line for a four pointer to give Parramatta hope of sending off Nathan Cayless a winner in his last match before retirement.
That hope was speedily snuffed out in the 32nd minute by a Warriors outfit hell-bent on going into the finals with good form on their side when Kevin Locke took control of an out of control chip kick from Hayne. Not enjoying the scenery in his own half so much, he decided to take a break from the drudgery of home life and headed off toward the right side attack in search of a more meaningful way of life. What he found was a like minded companion in Brent Tate who he offloaded too and bid a fond adieu to his mate Tate as he took a forty metre whirlwind tour alongside the right touchline to dive over for his side’s second try and give the Warriors a 8-6 lead going into half-time.
Unfortunately for them, they also went into the break with one man down as James Maloney was sinbinned in the fortieth minute for tackling Luke Burt without the ball in a blatant professional foul twenty metres from the Warriors goal line.
This didn’t deter the visitor’s however. By the time Maloney was back on the field in the 50th minute, they had not only negotiated their way through what was potentially a tricky ten minute with only twelve men, but also a penalty count that had ballooned out to 8-2 in Parramatta’s favour.
And yet the Eels could not penetrate the stoic twelve man defence of the Warriors. There was too much lateral movement and not enough hard running up the middle of the ruck from Parramatta. This simply made it easier for the Warriors to shut the home side’s attack down. That and the constant array of offloads gone wrong.
Eventually, the extra possession afforded the Warriors by Parramatta told on the locals, and the Warriors on a three try scoring spree over the space of twelve minutes starting with Jesse Royal dotting down under the crossbar in the 56th minute.
What was particularly impressive about the Warriors performance was the patience they displayed. Yes they offloaded when the time was appropriate, but, on the whole, they kicked for field position at the right times, hard yakka up the middle of the ruck was the order of the day. And they did it all with such aplomb.
That patience was rewarded in the 65th minute when Aaron Heramia ran from dummy-half and terminated any contact the defence may have wished to have with him as he escaped the Eels attentions to race thirty metres up field before passing to Locke who scored beside the left upright. With Maloney’s conversion, the Warriors were out to a fourteen point lead and the result was never in doubt from here on in.
Even more so after Manu Vatuvei dived over in the left corner three minutes later to give the warriors a 26-6 lead.
All that was left now was for Cayless to score a consolation try with six minutes until full time remaining. He didn’t get the win he would have liked to finish his career with, but, still, the last scoring play of the match was a nice end for the big bloke.
It didn’t hide the fact that Parramatta was comprehensively outplayed by a Warriors side that are hitting the apogee of their form at the right stage of the season.
Now all they have to do is carry that form on for another four weeks.

Warriors 26(J Ropati, B Tate, J Royal, K Locke, M Vatuvei tries, J Maloney 3 goals)
Parramata 12(T Tahu, N Cayless tries, L Burt 2 goals)

By the end of the 2009 NRL season I thought there was more chance of Paris Hilton’s soon to be drug addled brain coming up with a viable solution to solving the sizable Middle East peace issues than there was of Ivan Cleary being the right person to coach the New Zealand Warriors. Wouldn’t get them to the top eight let alone a grand final this year, I had decided at the time.
Well, I was wrong. I got it all so wrong. That’s right, wrong. Cleary has put in a masterful performance in getting his side into finals football. That he has taken what was a rabble of a team at the end of 2009 and turned them into a serious finals contender says a lot about his coaching ability.
He admitted earlier this year that he and his coaching team had got the fitness routine wrong. He has shown admirable qualities by admitting he made mistakes, and then setting about not repeating those same errors. To put an Oscar Wilde slant on it: it may be considered a misfortune to make a mistake once, but to repeat it just seems like carelessness. In this case one could hint at it been even worse than that. Well, Cleary has shown himself to be a smart operator by not slipping into such a careless method of thinking. Instead, he didn’t panic and calmly set about righting what went wrong.
What’s more, he has had to negotiate his way through this season with a litany of injuries. Quite possibly, the Warriors have had the worst injury toll of any of the sixteen clubs. Not only have that, but almost all of the sidelined players been Cleary’s star playing staff. At various stages he has been without Simon Mannering, Brent Tate, Manu Vatuvei, Brett Seymour and Sam Rapira. This list doesn’t even take into account the loss of Steve Price who has had to retire without playing one match in 2010.
So Cleary has achieved what are undeniably fine results with at times a young inexperienced side. Which one cannot deny bodes well for future seasons, regardless of what happens from here on in during the upcoming final’s series. He now has a more than adequate halves pairing in Seymour and James Maloney at his disposal. Both possess extremely handy kicking games, and have enhanced their side’s attacking credentials. And in Maloney, Cleary has the added benefit of a reliable goal kicker.
Throw into the mix of ingredients for next year Feleti Mateo and for the first time since the great Ali Lauatiti, the Warriors will soon have a ball playing second rower. With Cleary’s apparent calm demeanour, Mateo will more than likely give this side the x-factor it needs to become one of the true heavyweights of the competition.
All this aside, let’s not forget that this season has not faded out for the Warriors. They are a team on the way up and appear to peaking at the right time of the year. The young players have had to stand up and take more responsibility due to the injuries suffered, which will no doubt stand them in good stead for September football. As a team they have improved their defence under Cleary immeasurably. In past seasons they have been known for their flamboyant attacking style but not always for their defensive fortitude. Well Cleary has well and truly changed that. They are now one of the more formidable defensive units in the competition. And as they showed against Brisbane in the weekend, when the forwards go straight up the middle of the park and set a substantial and solid platform, then the backs are very much capable of making line breaks that can lead to a phlethora of points. So the attack is there when the opportunity presents itself.
And, it seems too, that in Cleary the players trust. That they, in general, play well, would suggest a team that have faith in their coach.
So, the immediate future is looking good with the real possibility of Cleary’s men delving deep into the soon to be contested final’s month. And if it is not meant to be this season, then there is a realistic hope that with Cleary at the helm and continuing the good work that he has been doing, then the Mt Smart faithful are in for a lot of happy times over the next few years.
By the way, just to reiterate; I was WRONG. Ivan Cleary, you have done a fantastic job.