Frightening Senior was no challenge at all

Leeds Rhinos Keith Senior against Melbourne Storm – AP Photo/Paul Thomas

Not even Melbourne can produce subzero temperatures, sleet and North Sea mists on game day. But this is the World Cup Challenge – the Northern England challenge.

And most Australian teams, through indifference (the NRL premier assumes it is the world champion) and because their English opponents treat it as an international and as validation of their Super League, have failed it.

Now, through the mist, comes the thunderous booing from the hordes. It is the hooded Rhino fans with the stench of pie and mushy peas on their breath. Primed with Yorkshire ale they suddenly stop braying and begin singing the Storm to its grave.

The Storm has spent its entire existence weathering alien environments. Five months ago it was sweating in the humidity of Western Sydney and blinded by the glare of all that blue and yellow.

Here in Leeds, however, there is a further challenge, the most frightening of all: Keith Senior.

He’s a mean looking man even in a sport where oversized deltoids, no neck, and no fear are necessary. Like the AFL’s Barry Hall (who looks as if he wants to knock you out AND does), Senior is big and bald.

The lack of hair draws your gaze to his. Small, close-set eyes, focused,intense and LUMINOUS. We’ve all seen that look on the playing field, in the pub or boardroom filled with the ambitious.

The ABC doco Primal Instincts examined a theory that THAT look can be the result of a lack of serotonin, a hormone that helps regulate anger. It can be an inherited disorder so keep Keith Jnr Senior locked down in the playpen.

Describing one of his scary working class characters, Martin Amis could easily be talking about our Keith: “Keith was a bad guy. Keith was a very bad guy. You might even say that he was the very worst guy. Keith didn’t look like a murderer. He looked like a murderer’s dog”.

But as it turned out Keith didn’t prove to be a threat to the Storm at all. In fact, he probably won them the match.

In the 60th minute with the scores deadlocked he gave referee Richard Silverwood one of his piercing stares and an awful earful about not penalising the Storm for slowing the play-the-ball. Cameron Smith converted the penalty and Melbourne never relinquished the lead.

So the Storm survived the wrath of Keith. But there are a few individuals praying Keith takes his serotonin.

And soon.

Silverwood’s existence is under a cloud after Keith publically stated: “I’m sick of him. He’s arrogant. He likes to be the centre of attention”.

And will Brett Finch make it back home after he insanely (I mean doesn’t he realise he could die?) called Keith a poor loser?

There were also some fans of opposing Super League teams who laughed online at Keith over his criticism of Melbourne’s tactics saying Leeds play the same way. I hope, for their sake, they can’t be traced.

If Keith reads any part of this article, it will be my last.

Anyway, the Englishness of it all was symbolised by the WCC trophy – it was just like the one being held aloft by Wayne Rooney at Wembley a few hours earlier with the annoying ribbons dangling from the handles.

Finally why do Gillette bother to sponsor events like the WCC and pay sporting superstars (and Michael Clarke) a fortune to advertise their Fusion razor? They have a monopoly on mens shaving products.

You go into the supermarket and find there is no other brand of razor in existence. The only competition is from their own ancient Sensor Excel twin blade I use, on whose packet they implore you to buy the five blade Fusion.