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Panthers prove they’re LOLcats no longer

2nd September, 2014
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Penrith tried hard in the heat, but went down to the Raiders. (Photo: www.photosport.co.nz)
Expert
2nd September, 2014
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If you’re still waiting for the Penrith Panthers to curl up on a couch and sleep through the cold months, you really should lay off the catnip. Spring is here, and the Panthers are very much finals-bound.

The crowds might not reflect it, but there hasn’t been this much excitement in the air out Penrith way since Harry’s Cafe de Wheels put a kiosk outside Panthers leagues club.

The excitement is justified. Three years into a Phil Gould five-year plan that even Baldrick himself would describe as ‘cunning’ – a plan that saw ‘deadwood’ such as internationals Michael Jennings and Luke Lewis cut adrift – coach Ivan Cleary somehow has a bunch of journeymen, rookies and nuffies one win away from sealing an unlikely top-four finish.

My pre-season soothsaying had the Panthers troubling the bottom half of the top eight, and I think that’s where they’ll end up after facing the Warriors this Sunday night.

The thing about this side, though, is that they hang around like a household cat at dinner time – always there or thereabouts, and seemingly never satisfied.

Take last weekend’s epic at Brookvale for example. Sunday afternoon football, winter sunshine, a packed suburban ground, a monumental cock-up involving referees and timekeepers – Gus Gould himself couldn’t have scripted it better.

Sure, he might have conspired to give Penrith that vital 15 seconds they were robbed of to score an unlikely match-winner, but going down swinging in a 26-25 thriller to Manly – the competition heavyweights who I don’t hate anywhere near as much as I want to – is another fine chapter in the redemption tale.

Especially when you consider how many of their lead characters are missing. Buy-of-the-year candidates Elijah Taylor and Tyrone Peachey are on the long-term injured list, as are rookie-of-the-year candidates Bryce Cartwright and Isaah Yeo, and prodigal son Peter Wallace.

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Matt Moylan and James Segeyaro are still there, playing the roles of enigmatic sidekicks to perfection. Josh Mansour’s beard is consistently impressive. Will Smith’s late cameo is keeping small-minded pop-culture buffs amused.

But the centrepiece of the Penrith rebirth is an individual tale of redemption.

Jamie Soward is what one might tactfully call a divisive figure. Mothers take one look at those cheeks and want to give them a good squeeze before sending him back outside to play; less forgiving, blokier types might best describe that very same face as ‘punchable’.

Whether you consider Soward a lovable scamp or pantomime villain, you can’t deny he’s an entertainer. Sometimes unwittingly, especially when it comes to post-try celebrations which have their origins in cocky strutting but come across as kinda ridiculous. Like when he collected an unlikely try assist from Jamie Lyon on Sunday.

No matter. His legions of knockers have either lost their voice or retired as Soward rediscovers the mojo that had slowly seeped out of him after he was sacrificed to the NSW No.6 jersey post-Dragons 2010 grand final glory.

And rather than feel weighed down by the burden of carrying his side’s playmaking hopes when halves partner Wallace’s knee buckled, Soward has lifted.

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There’s a spontaneity in his play – and by extension Penrith’s – which teams whose halves remain anchored to their respective left or right channels lack. The side of the ruck he calls the ball from isn’t necessarily where he catches it, or where it’s ultimately going.

Unpredictable, off-the-cuff football. There really isn’t enough of it. But there should be plenty of it out at Penrith Park this weekend. Sunday night football in the Golden West, to paraphrase Gus.

The Harry’s kiosk won’t know what hit it.

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