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Despite the loop of affidavits coming from all stakeholders involved, nobody will truly believe that Daly Cherry-Evans is headed to the Gold Coast until the stroke of midnight in Round 13 rolls around and he turns in to a Meter Maid.
Whispers, machinations and column inch filler have collaborated with a lame NRL transfer rule to give the impression the deal’s as firm and resilient as a bath bubble.
But after this week’s news regarding Kieran Foran’s contract with Parramatta, it’s about to look like reinforced triple-brick in comparison.
This may sound bonkers considering Foran has been an anti-invisible ink campaigner since signing months back. All along, he’s reiterated he will be upholding the good reputation of signatures by taking the multi-millions from the Eels in 2016, in turn blazing a trail of decency among a landscape that encourages fibs and backflips. (Trail of decency to be fully confirmed in Round 13.)
But this is not about a pre-deadline weaseling-out by the Kiwi playmaker.
What I am referring to is a corker of a get-out clause in his new deal with Parramatta, one that will precariously hover over their alliance for the four long years they are in cahoots, ready and waiting to pop-off like a hair-trigger at the first sign of speed wobbles.
As reported in Thursday’s Sydney Morning Herald, Foran’s contract includes a condition under the ‘ejector seat’ paragraph that refers to ‘political turmoil’. Now let me put on my wig and generalise this in detailed legal terms.
This means if there’s any silly buggers being played out at the top at any time during his stint, he can set alight the kit he’s wearing at the time and flee for the hills without penalty. Basically, he’s insured himself against a boardroom shitstorm.
Now let’s get one thing straight: all clubs in the NRL are prone to suit-wearing skullduggery, where agendas rule and important meetings resemble a Klump family dinner. In fact, they would all have their annual grants pulled if they didn’t conduct themselves so.
But Parramatta is a special breed.
Asking for this type of rider in a contract with the Eels is akin to joining Naughty by Nature and agreeing to stay on the proviso that nobody says ‘yo’. Its inclusion means we have rugby league’s first ever contract that comes fitted with self-shredding technology.
For those unaware, Parramatta’s governance has mirrored their on-field performance of recent years; sloppy, self-destructive and sometimes involving criminals. While the fans humorously yearn for the golden days of the 1980s, the administration has steadfastly remained there, running operations with the kind of astuteness usually seen at a lemonade stall.
I’ve never walked its corridors of power, but I’ve heard the place has a 12-man board with 11 spots put aside for white-ants.
Such is the club’s self-treachery, the Greater Wester Sydney Giants and Western Sydney Wanderers no longer employ spies in the code war battle, content in the knowledge that their biggest rival is too busy overthrowing itself to be a threat to operations.
Personally, I applaud Foran’s insistence on this clause. It shows he’s a smart operator who just wants to focus on footy by safeguarding himself from a pack of maniacs who work on his doorstep. Signing the dotted line with this cover shows he’s 90 per cent sure they’re 100 per cent undomesticated, while still acknowledging that everything else looks peaches.
However, ‘political turmoil’ as a term seems vague. In the event of an evacuation that descended in to a legal stoush, how would Foran and his attorneys prove this has indeed taken place?
Lucky for them all, there are plenty of examples on the first five pages of any Google search involving the words ‘Parramatta’ and ‘meeting’.
Could it be the perpetual civil war at board level? The election meetings so hog-wild they demand a police presence? The weekly emergence of new tickets to overthrow the basketcase administration? The AVOs required after robust debate between powerbrokers? Or could it be something as simple as a basement that doubles as a mass graveyard of chopped-up coaches?
If that’s not enough, perhaps malfeasance on an individual level will cut the courtroom mustard. A dodgy CEO investigated for financial irregularities? The doctoring of memberships by a chairman to fudge ballot counts? Or could it be the time Denis Fitzgerald… actually, could it just be Denis Fitzgerald?
With this simple condition that’s been agreed on by both parties, the live war zone of the Parramatta killing fields could see Foran’s deal up in smoke before he even gets the chance to be unfairly weighed down with the expectation as the club’s 12th-yet-best saviour since Peter Sterling.
But never fear, Eels fans. This could turn out to be nothing, even just a gross exaggeration on my part to unfairly generate fear among a tortured fan-base that deserves a break. Heck, Foran could even end up being the buy of the millennium that guides you to the much-craved premiership you all deserve. Provided he doesn’t flee turmoil.
I reckon as long as he doesn’t read the newspaper, talk to anyone in a suit, or become too attached to Brad Arthur or any of the six coaches that follow him, he should be sweet.