And then there were four

It’s clear that the NRL finals have been so good that everyone needs a good lie down.

In the past two weeks I’ve read and have also had people say to me that the key for rugby league is to get this level of intensity every week.

Sound familiar? Maybe we could call it Super Duper League.

But enough naval gazing, I’m just enjoying the footy and it has been hard not to like it, unless of course your team has been pulverised in the second half or had victory ripped away from them in the dying seconds.

The Warriors and the Storm both survived their shoot outs and now have that x-factor often termed momentum right behind them.

Nearly everything just seems to be going the Warriors way at the moment, save the odd brain explosion from video referees.

Okay, okay I’ve said my piece in the past about these clowns and it is pointless to ponder just how Steve Clarke contrived a penalty try for Anthony Minichello but I think two things should be noted.

One is the psychology of the decision makers, the best description I have heard was from the ABC’s shrewd analyst Warren Ryan who said the biggest problem with video referees was that they seem more interested in impressing their peers than with getting the decisions right in the spirit of the game.

The constant replays seem just a time killing method while they search for the most obscure ruling.

Maybe there is some sort of referees’ bingo going on behind the scenes and the first one to tick off every different interpretation of the obstruction rule wins a hamper.

Clarke’s decision would in Victorian times been enough to get him put into an asylum. Of course in those days, members of the public were allowed to attend asylums for their own entertainment so they might have got something from it.

In these enlightened times we are sensitive to other feelings.

So much so that referees are protected because we fear a follow on to the Saturday morning touch lines of our little leagues.

The theory is that if Ivan Cleary blows his stack on Friday night because a referee makes a blunder which could cost his organisation hundreds of thousands of dollars then little Johnny or little Johnny dad might do the same at the Under 9’s on Saturday.

I find it all a little week, if people can’t put their own lives in perspective and realise that the Under 9’s is not the NRL Grand Final qualifier (and I know for many parents it is very hard) then all is lost.

It is like saying if a bloke at work doesn’t hand in a report that could cost the firm a million bucks then no one should yell at him because he might do the same if his kid in Kindergarten forgets to hand in his homework.

But Clarke survived because the Warriors have found a whole new toughness. Mental toughness.

In the past a bad call would have seen the heads drop but this version is built of sterner stuff.

The finals back door was swung wide open and the Roosters kicked out in no uncertain terms, it was a bit like watching 13 bouncers using strong arm tactics to eject a group of over hyped and over paid players from a drinking establishment.

Perhaps therefore the match was so enjoyable because it was the perfect analogy to modern day football.

The Warriors played close to the perfect second half on Friday and had the momentum right behind them, when Michael Witt found touch from the most unlikely position you just felt it was their night.

What is more they finished strongly, Aiden Kirk could have run they ball right across the Tasman at the death and there was a feeling the Warriors would have wanted to play the Sea Eagles on Saturday if they could have.

The big question, what to do with Wade McKinnon? I should admit I like Wade McKinnon more than I should admit to in the company of other males. The guy is a throw back, he plays with passion and commitment and refs might not like him, but he doesn’t care and certainly doesn’t like them.

If I still had posters on my wall, Wade McKinnon would be there. Of course he is as likely to score the match winner as he is to punch the ref so Ivan has some thinking to do.

Saturday’s thriller at Lang Park (always will be to me) stole the headlines for its classic finish but in truth it was far from a classic game.

It seems almost weird that the best finishes come from games which seem to be bumbling their way towards a predictable end. I always thought that about the 1997 ARL Grand Final.

It seemed that the Storm would go out and the enduring memory would be Cameron Smith shanking his drop out into touch, but things don’t often work out that way.

There seemed to be a bit of afters between the media and Wayne Bennett after the match, there has always been an uneasy relationship between the two but I thought it was a decent gesture of Channel Nine not to show his coaching box when Greg Inglis dived over.

I’m sure the image of him blowing up when Mark McGaw scored for the Blues would had been superseded quite comfortably…but like a Hitchcock film the true horror of it will always just exist in our imaginations.

Ashton Sims shouldn’t feel too bad, I mean THAT drop ball was about his 15th of the game and I was sure that he and Joel Clinton were involved in some sort of conspiracy such was their handling.

At least we know that as a unit the Broncos are likely to take their mad Monday seriously.

Our MTV inspired attention spans now mean we can barely remember whether it’s Brett Stewart or Graham Eadie at fullback for Manly or if ET, Steve Rogers or Fraser Anderson in the centres for the Sharkies.

They were all sitting on their respective beaches last week so they slipped from the public consciousness.

How they return is up to them, but I can’t wait.

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