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It’s been 48 years in the top grade for the Sharks, and while they’ve amassed an extensive back catalogue of accomplishments, it’s mostly stuff you keep in the attic like midweek trophies, preliminary finals and despair.
You can liken their existence to that of a fringe musical act. They’ve flogged out their guts to only break through for platinum sales in Serbia and a handful of ARIA nominations in peculiar categories, when all they’ve ever wanted is one measly little Grammy.
That’s why Cronulla’s steady progress to becoming a genuine top four team this year may seem unremarkable to most, but to them, they’ve shot up the charts like a bullet that’s stopped sipping its own wee.
Expectation abounds in the Shire that coach Shane Flanagan has finally assembled a band with the potential to pocket the industry award they’ve dodged so capably they’ve elevated it to an artform.
There’s the usual grizzly forward pack, all bruised and hissing like a rumbling tribute to the melon of captain Paul Gallen, but what’s different this year is an attacking arsenal with a serious competency to breach the peace.
Ben Barba, James Maloney, Chad Townsend, Jack Bird and Valentine Holmes are some of the names in a backline that’s smoother than a Laramie and twice as deadly, an offence that provides the team with more explosive electricity than Nu Brown’s phone.
Yes, there’s no doubt that Flanagan has built the finest Sharks outfit in recent memory. Unfortunately, his timing couldn’t be any worse.
Just as he builds a squad capable of repaying the faith of the patient people of Sutherland and surrounding areas, along comes those greedy supergroups from Brisbane and North Queensland.
While Flanagan’s is undoubtedly a fine assembly of men that can bring an audience to its feet, overcoming one of these two for a grand final berth will be like a Celine Dion power ballad being toppled off the top spot by unsigned grunge.
I’ll put my pair on the line and state Cronulla is definitely a top four team this year. But while ever the Broncos and Cowboys draw breath, they are definitely not top two.
And while the Sharks are in with a ripping chance to topple the Broncos this Saturday night at home, can anyone head to Queensland and win a preliminary final?
After the way last year’s grand finalists are treating their guests at home, I’d say that’s a big, plump negatory.
Frankly, Brisbane and North Queensland have grown into heinous hosts this year. In their own homes, they are outscoring teams gratuitously, a selfish practice in these modern times when we should be teaching our kids generosity and compassion.
Cronulla will make it there, but after that, they won’t make it anywhere. Which is a shame, firstly because their people deserve closure, and secondly, because this is almost the last chance saloon before their forwards age and Michael Ennis develops incapacitating laryngitis.
Nevertheless, despite more impending failure, this has been another impressive building block by Flanagan.
Sure, when his side was caught injecting drugs on his watch, I suspected he was one of those blokes who loves a bad idea. But to his credit, he wasted no time crying over spilt Thymosin and set about building a dream that could be dashed like so many before him.
If he was around at any other time other than the Great Queensland Domination of today, he could’ve pulled this off to become one of the great Shire icons like Elle MacPherson, the Wanda Sand Dunes and tatts of the Southern Cross.
They may do it next year, but they probably won’t.
Lucky their fans are used to it.