Barnes loss another painful blow for Reds fans

 
Garth Hamilton Columnist

By , 30 Jul 2009 Garth Hamilton is a Roar Expert

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Wallaby superstar, Berrick Barnes. AAP Images

Wallaby superstar, Berrick Barnes. AAP Images

There was something exhilarating about watching Berrick Barnes wearing the Queensland jersey. In the sky blue of the Waratahs he will no doubt be magnificent too, as he is and will continue to be an exciting and talented footballer regardless of where he earns his living.

But in the ever reddening maroon of his native state’s shirt, all of the brilliance of his football and all of the composure that belied his youth was magnified by the hope that he brought to Queensland rugby.

With his departure, the relentless drag of fading hope, an all too familiar feeling, is upon Queenslanders again.

For what it is worth, all I can do as but a speck in the far flung diehard Reds diaspora is to congratulate the Waratahs on a great signing. It is a futile gesture but what other than futility are we Reds fans armed with?

We have crashed our way through so many ‘rock bottoms’ over the past eight years that the only truth we still believe is that “things can always get worse.”

Towards Barnes himself there can be no recrimination.

We knew, from his adventures in league and his back-packing around France after the last world cup that he had a desire to see the world. The ability to ship off to nearly anywhere and get a game is one of rugby’s draw cards; so much the better for him for taking advantage of it.

As something of a traveller myself, I can think of none of my but few life experiences that have better prepared me for my move to the United Kingdom than having been a Reds fans.

Our faded empire, like theirs, is no longer relevant in a world where rugby and glamour, once two of the most disparate entities, have now merged in the professional age.

We have our heroes and our past glories, and as Barnes himself has shown, we still have the ability to produce men of the finest quality.

But we stood too long in the twilight of our success, rode the shoulders of our giants into the ground.

Turning the Reds around may well prove as difficult as turning the UK into a society that embraces the changes demanded by modernity, however until we fundamentally change we will continue to look backwards to our best days.

The call for change is the easiest call to make and completely useless, not to mention a little disrespectful, to those who have shouldered the responsibility for seeing Queensland rugby right. Reds coach Paul Mooney is a good man with ability, experience and dedication.

Far worse coaches than he have ran international sides and the difference between the Super rugby rookie and his immediate predecessor, Eddie Jones, was stark and unflattering to the wayward disciple of Rod MacQueen.

I wish both Mooney and Barnes well.

Barnes plays the game the way I love to see it played and reminds me of Michael Lynagh in his coolness and steady hand. My guilty hope now is that his stay in New South Wales is but a short one and his roaming heart leads him over here, to the Guinness Premiership.

It would mean an end to his days in the Green and Gold of Australia but right now, from where my simple hopes are sinking in the swamps of sadness, that prospect would be a hell of a lot easier to swallow than watching him running around in the sky blue of New South Wales.

Give me a day or two and I’ll see reason. Maybe.

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