Manu Vatuvei celebrates the try of Lewis Brown (AAP Image/Action Photographics, Renee McKay)
Sydney’s Telstra Stadium will play host this weekend, to the largest single gathering of degenerate fiends Australia has seen, since the Barmy Army sprinkled the SCG with their drunken nonsense back in January.
While thankfully, at least, this weekend’s fiend-fest is unlikely to play host to many sunburned Englishmen, this is a small comfort indeed, when one considers the stadium will be rife with both Manly supporters and Kiwis. So who to support?
Who indeed? For me, this is a game in which only the Warriors seem to be in any way a credible option to get behind.
They’re Kiwis, sure, but then, so too are some of the best Manly players (Steve Matai and Kieran Foran) and really – after a deep breath – it’s worth putting xenophobia aside a moment and wondering just what it is that the Kiwis have actually done to make us hate them so much?
Yes, they made sleeve tattoos cool and yes, they gave us Russell Crowe, but we can balance this out: they have also given us Crowded House, Lucy Lawless and Flight of the Conchords.
The Haka is also a silly little dance that makes me smile.
All in all, New Zealand, as a nation, is too harmless for me to hate. Sure they’re pathetic (even their ‘all-conquering’, nationally-idolised All Blacks haven’t actually won a Rugby World Cup since 1987), but that’s part of their charm.
Despite that, I am an Australian and would therefore presumably find Manly, an Australian club with a predominantly Australian-playing roster, more appealing to my sensibilities.
On the surface, at least, you’d have to think that. However, you don’t have to dig much deeper to find that not only do Manly have a few Kiwis in their team anyway, but they also have a playing-roster full to the brim with swear words and morons.
From Jamie ‘more like you’re the four-putter’ Lyon, past the five all-in brawlers, to Anthony ‘sidewalk urinator’ Watmough, they field a team pretty high up in the list of All Time Most Loathsome.
So, it’s sorted. I’m supporting the Warriors. I like ‘em.
In Manu Vatuvei, they have one of the game’s most likeable and riveting players, as awful as he is amazing, Vatuvei’s enthralling tribulations sum up the human element in a game, that seems to be increasingly played by cyborgs.
Where once big Manu was pretty much all they had, these days they seem to have class everywhere: Kevin Locke and Shaun Johnson are two of the most exciting young players in the game, Feleti Mateo is as skillful as Sonny Bill without the ties to Anthony Mundine, Krisnan Inu is the most lazy, stupid, infuriatingly good-natured and gifted player in the competition and any number of their forwards frighten the hell out of me.
What I most like about them though is the way they play the game – a pack of grinning simpletons, I guess you could say.
In these days of stern conservatism, the Warriors stand almost alone (an honourable mention also to the Benji Marshall-inspired Wests Tigers) as a side willing to actually enjoy playing sport for a living.
Where Manly carries itself like it’s a burden to be an elite rugby league club, the Warriors smile wildly, miss tackles, throw idiotic flick passes and love every minute of it.
Manly, conversely, grumble and moan, start all-in brawls, play dirty and hold grudges.
This is behaviour I myself am not above. I too hold grudges. I hate Manly because Geoff Toovey was a little jerk in 1994.
I hate Manly because Terry Hill, John Hopoate, Cliff Lyons, Matthew Ridge, Mark Carroll and Ian Roberts all behaved similarly.
I hate Manly because in two consecutive weeks in 2003, they cost me over a $1000 in Footy TAB multibet winnings.
I hate them also because they’re a pretty good team who knocked out my beloved Broncos last weekend and will likely do the same to my newly-beloved Warriors this weekend.
I will always hate Manly.
Go Warriors! Fush and chups! Chris Cairns!
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