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Tinkler has to prove he loves the club not the glory

Expert
14th March, 2011
17
1980 Reads

Nathan TinklerThe $100 million, not-for-profit takeover offer of the Newcastle Knights from Hunter millionaire (some say billionaire) mining, property and horseracing magnate Nathan Tinkler seems perfect. But is it the utopia for Knights fans?

As an ABC broadcaster, I’ve received emails from fans across the Hunter.

“What’s wrong with these people?”

“It’s free money. It’s a local fan who wants to pour free money into the club. How can anyone vote “No” to that?”

I’ve spared you the expletives that littered the email.

The angry, white-collar Knights fan is right and his email represents the view of many modern rugby league fans.

Like some “Boys Own Adventure”, a local lad who didn’t have the talent to play for his beloved Knights instead became a multi-millionaire. Tinkler has offered to buy the struggling club and pour cash into it until it emerges as an NRL super-power.

But to assume such a deal is a fait accompli shows a lack an understanding of the anatomy of an “old-school” rugby league fan.

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To have the right to pour good money after bad, Nathan Tinkler requires three out of four members to give him the green light at a referendum on March 31.

And it is far from a certainty.

Despite Tinkler’s quiet nature, the local Letters to the Editor page is littered with bullying accusations.

Despite the fact Tinkler is legally obliged to give all profits back, and cannot touch the colours or home ground, pub conversations are littered with conspiracy theories.

Despite the fact that virtually every administrator, sponsor and past and present player is begging members to vote yes, there was a procession of hardcore fans at a recent meeting getting to their feet to express doubt.

Why?
To understand that, one must understand the very premise of the game of rugby league.

This is gladiatorial conflict at its finest.

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It is about lining up 13 big humans to create a brick wall. And it is about battering into that wall until you make a hole.

The game’s mythology, its defining moments, are not celebrations of success – but of stoicism.

From John Sattler playing a grand final with a broken jaw, to the defeat of the global media overlord Rupert Murdoch and his plans to impose Super League on the people, lovers of this game love success – but they love the underdog more.

Origin’s most enduring image is the diminutive Wally Lewis standing up to the towering Mark Geyer. Or is it the blood-stained Benny Elias?

Its premiership trophy immortalises a war in the mud.

While a “genius” like Andrew Johns or Benji Marshall is lauded, a true fan will tell you it all happens in the engine room.

Yes, the true heroes of the game are those who run slowly, in a straight line and are smashed. Or smash others.

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That is bravery. That is tough. That’s taking a stand. That’s what rugby league is all about.

That is why a hardcore rugby league fan isn’t simply interested in success. He wants a certain type of success.

And he isn’t interested in common sense, much less business sense.

It’s why everyone still loves to hate those “Silvertails” Manly, long after the club almost went broke.

It’s why Origin is a curiosity for a Sydneysider, in Australia’s gargantuan cosmopolitan capital, and a matter of life and death for his northern brother from Brisbane.

Rugby League endures, indeed thrives, in the face of a tsunami of sexual assaults, old-fashioned after-midnight assaults, betting scandals and drug scandals.

A fan basing his decisions on common sense would surely abandon such a code.

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No, the sort of rugby league fan who pays for a membership and turns up to vote on club matters is basing his decisions on something far more symbolic.

His club is his world.

And his world view doesn’t include professional business plans or back-room resourcing.

A struggling club is almost a badge of honour.

To do it tough, to make it hurt, is to do it right.

In a place like Newcastle, with its working-class mindset and underdog pride, that attitude is only magnified.

You must also take into account the advancing years of many members for whom tomorrow is a frightening place and the more it looks like yesterday the better.

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These members, the self-appointed guardians of rugby league, believe they have a mission to keep it the game of the “average bloke”.

Nathan Tinkler is an average bloke – an average bloke with a billion dollars.

If he wants to save the Newcastle Knights, he has to prove that to the other average blokes.

The Roar welcomes Aaron Kearney as an expert columnist and regular writer. Aaron broadcasts from 1233 ABC Newcastle and on ABC Grandstand

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