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Want engagement, Bill Pulver? Let's have Club Week

10th June, 2015
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Where are the public viewing screens? The hype around the World Cup final is below par. (AAP Image/Dave Hunt)
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10th June, 2015
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I’m not inclined to let a good idea go, and Jerry Collins Week is a great idea.

For those who came in late, last Saturday, in the wake of the tragic death of All Black Jerry Collins and his wife Alana, I suggested that his wonderful links to clubland and the rugby grassroots be celebrated by sending professional players back to grassroots clubs for a week and calling it Jerry Collins Week.

Now, lets get realistic and say that even I know that the ARU isn’t going to name any initiative of theirs after an All Black, even one as great and universally loved as Collins.

So let’s just get around that early and call it Club Week (even though we’ll all remember that Jerry really kicked it off by thumbing his nose at his contract and playing his cameo at Barnstaple).

Club Week is a great event because it is real engagement. Not the faux engagement we get at a Wallaby fan day, or the fleeting autograph over the fence post-game, but genuine immersion over several days. The chance to actually get to know one of our heroes, and the chance for them to get to know us.

It’s the getting-to-know-us part which is incredibly powerful. Imagine spending time in a little town in country Australia, perhaps Gunnedah, or Avoca, maybe Dalby or Gladstone. Arriving on a Tuesday and strapping on the boots for a training run with the boys and girls. Not just standing around in your Wallaby tracksuit, smiling fixedly, but actually running with the team, having some banter, teaching them a few tricks, and sharing a joke in the bar afterward.

Imagine going home with your host to their modest but cosy country or beach house, sitting down with the family to a meal, and when the evening was over, crashing out in the spare room under those peculiarly welcoming blankets that spare rooms always seem to have.

Imagine then on Wednesday, a light run in the morning before lunch at the local club with a few diehard supporters and sponsors. Not ‘A Lunch’ mind, where you have to speak, or be interviewed, but just ‘lunch’. Sitting around the table, having a steak and listening to the memories of great matches gone by and Test match weekends away, especially the one where ‘Bluey’ got pissed and fell in the fountain up the Cross.

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Now I agree, this part might sound a bit creaky for a young pro footballer, but hey, as the quote goes, “The world does not owe you a living – you owe the world something.”

And this, this is what rugby is all about. Young blokes paying their dues by listening to old blokes banging on about how things were better in their day.

It’s a time-honoured tradition, and it’s how young fellas make the old fellas feel important, all the while knowing that they will be old blokes themselves one day and the same courtesy will be paid to them.

Wednesday night? Not much actually. Maybe some Playstation with the kids at your hosts’ house, or even a movie. You don’t have to be a celebrity all the time you know.

Then imagine Thursday night – a solid hitout at training with a bit of sting about it. As a card-carrying Wallaby you show your wares and teach the team what real training intensity looks like. It’s good for us to see what the difference in ability and strength truly is – respect cuts both ways, and when we see the true scale of the gulf, we’re a bit more inclined to give you some respect for the hard work you put in day to day.

Still imagining… Friday night is Wallas training night and so you’re out there on the pitch with the eight-year-olds, remembering where it all started. Sure, you’ll get some straight-between-the-eyes questions (“Why did you kick that ball to the man so he could score a try Mr O’Connor?”), but hey, it’s character building, and the yummy mums get a kick out of it.

Then on Saturday, the brilliant climax of the whole thing and the part that everyone has been waiting for – you get in the sheds and line up with your new mates for a cameo in reserve grade.

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The rules mean you can’t play first grade, because that wouldn’t be fair, but it’s not the point of the exercise of course. The point is to give a lasting memory to some young players and inspire them to play above themselves, if only for a day.

What a gift to be able to give – the joy of a young winger running off Adam Ashley-Cooper as he slices through the Bowral seconds defence and sets him up for a try under the posts, or the joy of a grizzled veteran wrapping an arm around Stephen Moore as he drives into a scrum against the Yass Rams Seconds pack. As a chirpy Bendigo halfback, imagine the joy of spending your afternoon hitting Quade Cooper on the chest, or as a portly Cobar flyhalf, catching bullets from Will Genia.

What an experience for the other 29 players on the field, the hundreds in the stands, the scores of juniors and everyone in town that week. A memory forever.

And now, back to reality. Let’s ask ourselves an important question. After all that – that week of lunch, training, yarns and laughs – how many Wallas and under 12s and thirsty third-graders and young first-grade bucks and old retired legends from that club will make the trip to their nearest Test match when their Wallaby is playing? How many?

My considered and scientific estimate is: all of them.

With banners, with scarves, and with hearts full of memories and new mateships and an undying passion for the whole thing, because their Wallaby isn’t just a guy on a poster, he’s the guy who anchored their boat race, and trained their Wallas, set Jimmy up for a try under the posts (“…his first try in three years, and all old Jimmy had to do was just fall over the line!”) and even cooked a few snags on their barbecue after training.

Of course, sadly, the people in power are probably reading this and rolling their eyes – “Tell him he’s dreamin’!”

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But to that I simply quote George Bernard Shaw, “Some people see things as they are and say why, but I dream of things that never were and say, ‘Why not?’”

Why not indeed? Because it’s new thinking and risky thinking and the first man through the wall always gets bloody. No-one wants to be the guy who takes the risk.

So if we get a response from Rugby HQ, I bet it will be a “no”. But I don’t like that answer. So in the interests of fighting for a good idea, let’s argue the point against the likely reasons:

It’s too risky, the Wallaby might get injured
Seriously? We all know that there’s no more risk than at any franchise contact session or normal Super Rugby match.

The Wallaby already has a packed schedule
Well, they might have a packed schedule, but the ARU surely can make room, and of course the Wallaby can take their Club Week at a time which best suits them, the team and their coaching staff during the season. Not all Wallabies are going to take their Club Week at the same time.

The Wallabies wouldn’t want to do it, when they have time off they just want to stay home
This might well be the case, and if it is, then they’re not really the sort of people we want doing Club Week anyway. So let’s make it easy, and make it optional. If you’re a Wallaby and you want to do Club Week, just opt in. If we only get two or three, we’ll take them, but I think we’ll all be surprised how keen the Wallabies are.

We don’t have the resources to administer a program like this
We all know the joint is strapped, so you’re probably right. But we won’t let that get in the way – we’ll pull together a hand-picked and unpaid committee to be vetted by the ARU, which will exist solely to make Club Week happen. No ARU resources required.

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Wallaby insurance won’t allow it
C’mon, we all know that Gow Gates insure all sorts of random rugby events throughout the year, some of them involving 60-year-olds with sclerotic arteries and addled brains, so I’m pretty sure you can fix this one.

And hey, if they really, really can’t play, and you won’t possibly budge, then let them train during the week and just run the water on match day.

But we all know that would be a massive cop-out which would rob the club boys of the greatest part of the whole experience.

It will cost too much
No, it won’t cost a thing. Clubs will enter the ballot on the understanding that they will pay all expenses for their player.

So there it is – Club Week.

It’s the best I can do. I can’t think of anything else that would forge better or stronger bonds between the pros and the amateurs, and rugby as a whole would be amazed at the impact it would have.

If you’re not convinced, remember that once upon a time, people thought State Of Origin wouldn’t work either.

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Over to you rugby fans. Share the Club Week idea around.

Oh, and Bill? There is nothing you could do that would cement your legacy more.

Club Week. Let’s make it happen.

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