Tim Sheens sure has packed a lot in to the last couple of years – light golfing, heavy litigation, a double income – but one thing he hasn’t done is a day of hard work as coach of Australia.
Now I know this sounds like a rotten endorsement, but I’m not saying you’re going to see the old Tiger through a grainy camcorder on some A Current Affair bludger exposé, smoking darts on his backside during business hours – as much of a rib-tickler that would be.
What I’m saying is that Sheens has loafed like the Paxton family for Australia because the requirement to lift a finger has never arisen.
At the end of the day, the job has always been done on his watch because he’s overseen a million-dollar galactic workforce that can arrange their way around the factory without guidance.
While he’s always front-and-centre as the figurehead, it’s mainly as a visual aid for change room camera shots. The truth is that the team selects themselves, coaches themselves, and I’m sure even if the necessity ever arose, they would probably self-administer the hairdryer in the event of a rare ‘mare.
The coach just reclines in his highback chair, complies with team polo-shirt guidelines and raises his voice at halftime if the opposition are within 10 points. Done and done.
Yep, it’s a nucleus of successful Queensland kids and a plethora of high-performing Blues backrowers that have combined with ease to make his job of managing the national team about as taxing as pulling hair out of margarine.
However, after 26 international games of cruising with his feet up on the dashboard, the time has now come for some advance level cogitation for Mr Sheens. The upcoming Four Nations tournament will be a rare examination of his smarts as he attacks the campaign with a squad so fresh that it makes a baby’s bum look like Jack Nicholson’s forehead.
With ten debutantes and a pool room of experience sitting on the sideline, the boss will need more innovation, trickery and name tags then he’s had to call on in the job than ever before. Sure, it’s feasible that his young bucks could still streak the field, but at least it’s something to finally stretch the grey matter.
So can the old charger squeeze what’s required out of Australia’s second tier?
There’s some nice cynicism on the street, with my fellow Roar fellow Kris Swales branding the Pom caboose with the ‘specials’ iron, and Kiwi fans buoyed by their innovative game-changer of conducting the traditional softening-up period during the Haka.
However, I reckon there’s a wall around here that Australia are going to put their backs to, and it will spark a gritty, old-fashioned Aussie adversity-kickin’ – the grittiest you’ll ever see from a $1.35 favourite.
What we could be about to see is an Aussie underdog story that will evoke memories of one of our nation’s most memorable accomplishments in rep footy. I’m talking about Bobby Fulton and his magnificent men from the 1995 World Cup campaign.
Do you remember this ragtag pack of palookas? Don’t beat yourself up and question your manhood if you don’t, as for other than Brad Fittler and Andrew Johns, it was a squad of the rank and file that was about as recognisable as Renee Zellweger’s refurbished kisser.
Super League defections had resulted in a motley crew being sent to the Old Dart, and it was one that hardly had the corporate world clamouring for endorsement deals. It was a shame as I always thought Brett Dallas was the man who could’ve penetrated the lucrative South American market for Tang.
After losing the opening game to a rabid English side, every man and his corgi were convinced the international bully boys from Down Under were finally about to be fed a long-awaited cactus sanger, and that the full-strength hosts were in the box seat to be the beneficiaries.
But in true backs-to-the-wall, never-say-die, we’ve-got-Joey-and-you-don’t fashion, Bozo’s men navigated the rest of the qualifying stages with vintage Aussie guts and Spud Carroll scare tactics. From there, they earned a berth in the final and gritted out a blue-collar 16-8 victory over England in front of enough geezer-generated electricity to power the London tube for a winter’s month.
Now let’s get this straight – there’s nothing Sheens and his men can do in this tournament that will even sniff the toejam of this wonderful win against all odds, a moment in rugby league time so profoundly significant that Phil Collins penned a song in its honour.
Today’s squad, while new-look and Freddy-free, is still pretty scary. Good scary. Add to this, they’re not in a foreign land where lungs forever exhale fog, everything is covered in Vaseline, and the distracting din of oafish song continues unabated.
But let’s look past these factors and appreciate the situation for what it is – a rare moment of difficulty for Sheens and his world bullies. To be frank, it’s kinda exciting.
Sheens has lost one game in his time as Australian coach, and he’s on a 16-game winning streak, but I get the general feeling that nobody is really impressed, and that’s because coaching the Kangaroos is a thankless job where you lose when you lose and nobody sends flowers when you win.
I reckon he will be enjoying this opportunity to get off his backside and prove he’s no bludger.
Let’s throw it open to the Roar citizens. After 26 games with plenty of achieving, could this Four Nations tournament be the Kangaroo coach’s finest moment in the role if he can deliver the goods? Is this his 1995 moment, or just another cakewalk with the next wave of blue-chip talent at his disposal?
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