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Why does this generation struggle with omission?

21st July, 2017
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Do players today struggle with the idea of being dropped from a side? (AAP Image/Dan Himbrechts)
Expert
21st July, 2017
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In the wash-up of the Great Fifita Origin Dummy-Spit Saga (that perhaps never was) there was one thought that lingered in the air.

Despite doubts over the veracity of reports, was anybody that hangs around suburban footy fields really that surprised such a scenario might happen at the top level?

For those who have been living on the moon, the contention was that Fifita went and stomped his feet in the bathtub after allegedly being told he would be benched for Game 3 by coach Laurie Daley.

No, this article isn’t another effort to make a pariah out of the Blues big man, who although temperamental and unpredictable, I do not believe is as much of a prima donna as he was trumped up to be.

Rather it’s a broader commentary about what I perceive has been an attitude shift that has noticeably taken place in the last decade throughout rugby league ranks, starting from the bottom up.

At this point in time I’m going to cross off another of the listed criteria by which I’ve gauged whether I am officially ‘old’.

I’m going to commit to print a sweeping, disparaging statement about the next generation that could be accused of forming an ignorant comparison to how my own peers behaved in their day.

Regardless, I’ll press on.

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I’d contend that in the last ten years the ability of players to handle a demotion or omission – particularly in the late teenage years – has plummeted shockingly.

If I think back to the seasons I was lucky enough to play in a modest senior side regularly playing finals footy, I can distinctly remember guys who missed the cut for grand finals and other big matches.

To a man they were gutted, but took it on the chin, and most often bounced back as better players.

There seemed to be an attitude of “if things are not going my way, I should look at myself before blaming others”.

Andrew Fifita Cronulla Sharks NRL Rugby League 2017

(AAP Image/Joe Castro)

They would go away and train harder, seek advice, and still show up to cheer on teammates and carry the water for them.

That mindset creates teams that are genuinely tight, accountable, hungry for improvement, and ultimately successful.

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Subsequently, in a couple of instances I can recall blokes mirroring the Johnathan Thurston-Steve Price tribute of handing over a grand final medal to a teammate who didn’t make the cut, such was the bond.

However in the last few years, since winding down as a player and focusing more on coaching and selecting sides, similar scenarios have led to some disconcerting experiences.

I’ve had lads come into senior footy, the youngest, the most inexperienced, the least fit, who will point blank refuse to be named as 18th man, because they feel they are too good for it.

In fact, one 18th man clean failed to show up without notice on game day when a starting player got stuck in traffic, on what would have been his breakthrough opportunity.

He never came back, because he’d had that much wind blown up his backside in the years preceding – and had no time for introspection on his own shortcomings.

If a kid has progressed through juniors, larger than others, trampling over people, throwing audacious offloads that they think are spectacular (but only effective 50 per cent of the time), they believe that qualifies them for a saloon passage.

I’ve had another kid who wasn’t picked in the top team, but told he would captain the second-string side.

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It was firmly impressed on him that if he led the team strongly, the starting halfback role would likely be his in the next game.

Similarly, he never showed up for the reserve grade side, left them to fall in a hole and when the top side was well-beaten, he was never there for his opportunity.

In both instances, the players that walked away then rang friends and family members in the playing ranks and tried to get them to abandon ship too.

It’s a cancerous, selfish mindset that must have stemmed from somewhere, a cultivated notion that the team is infinitesimally smaller than the ego of the individual.

On other occasions I’ve seen up-and-comers refuse to shower with teammates and walk straight to their car because they blamed everyone else for an unexpected loss, and guys refuse to train for events that are months away because they are convinced “the side has already been picked”.

In one case a player got caught out cheating with a teammate’s and childhood friend’s partner.

He blamed everyone else but himself for the inexcusable act that saw the playing group disown him.

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To the players themselves, they believe their reactions are macho and assertive, but in reality it is only them absolving themselves of the obligation to focus on weakness, train hard and make amends.

Everybody else can see that clear as day.

A defeatist, fragile attitude might well be why they are viewed as a fringe selection and not a definite starter. Throwing a tantrum only confirms a coach’s or selector’s suspicions.

I have always maintained the mantra: show me a great player who doesn’t get picked and I’ll show you a player with deficiencies somewhere.

Coaches are in the game of winning. They don’t knowingly leave out talented, hard-working, go-getters who will bring them victory.

If there is a struck match between two selections, the coach will probably get accused of favouritism no matter which way they lean.

It’s only natural for coaches to have favourites, but it’s funny how many favourites just also seem to be diligent, consistent, self-aware and with a strong team ethic.

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Will Chambers is tackled

(AAP Image/Dan Himbrechts)

I’m not saying nobody behaved like a spoilt brat in bygone eras when they were overlooked for selection – but the frequency of spitting the dummy seems well above what it used to be.

I honestly hate to generalise, but it’s hard not to observe this phenomenon without forming some theories about why it came to be.

Has the ‘everyone’s a winner’ mentality of junior competitions made people unable to deal with omission? Have glorified sports like bodybuilding and adventure races – where nearly everyone gets a cool photo, t-shirt and finisher’s medal – meant a craving for recognition is now a demand? Have the pressures of being seen as a success at everything on social media driven an inability to cope with being second-best?

I’m left with the thought that verified winners don’t just find a way to squeeze into a side; they find a way to make themselves among the first picked – no matter what is put in their way.

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