Extreme makeover: Assisting the NRL's 'whole of game' review

In one of head office’s more clandestine operations, Shane Richardson’s first task as the NRL’s new Head of Strategy is to conduct a ‘whole of game’ review in the hope that rugby league can finally enjoy some peace and quiet from itself.

To justify his plump paypacket, he simply has to run the comb over history’s greatest web of contradictions and come up with a blueprint for success that pleases everyone in history’s largest fraternity of fault-finders.

Frankly, it’s the kind of sadistic assignment that belongs on a Japanese game show. I would actually say it’s a job that’s well beyond the reaches of one man. In fact, I would say it’s even beyond the reaches of man. It’s more of a NASA thing.

For those unaware of what Richardson faces, Australian league is like that drawer of extension leads everyone has at home – a fricken ball of yarn that nobody has ever had the patience to untangle after gradually becoming one big rock of fibre thanks to years of everyone yanking a loose end in their own direction.

One look at Richo’s instructions and it’s obvious that he’s stuffed. However, orders from a red-plugged Welsh banker should not be taken lightly, so I’m going to help him pull a rabbit out of his can with a few masterful concepts that will give the game the nip and tuck it needs.

I acknowledge that I’m wading in to piranha-infested waters here. The Roar is the market-leading nursery for great thinkers, and there’s a good chance that some of my ideas may not be in the realms of those greater innovations like the 40/20 rule, themed rounds, and the abolishment of the corner post and Souths.

But it may be enough to at least prevent Richo going bonkers or having to contact workplace relations.

1. Referees
In a number I just made up, referees are known to participate in 97 per cent of all games of rugby league. Unfortunately, they are also known to wreck 89 per cent of these. If you think these numbers sound wrong, then they probably are- I got them from a referee.

In a perfect world, there would be no human adjudication in footy. Personally, I dream of a game played under the vigilant surveillance of handsome underground robots who arbitrate with 99.99997 per cent accuracy and deliver their verdicts in a range of pre-programmed celebrity voices.

Unfortunately, the game can’t currently afford this kind of technology now that it’s blown the farm on the bunker system, so for now it’s humanoid pea-blowing all the way. But how do we counter their evil influence on outcomes?

One word: short-arm penalties. Or differential penalties. (Focus group is still in session – please fax any suggestions.)

With the high percentage of decisions being plain wrong, minimising the kick for touch or penalty goal dilutes the effect of the referee’s clumsiness. Plus the signal can look like pumping the horn on a choo-choo train, and the kids love choo-choo trains.

Let’s get rid of the double movement rule too. While ever a fascination exists with seeing a watermelon slowly explode across the forehead of a human being, there will always be a demand for slow motion vision in society. While ever there’s slow motion, there will be confusion over double movements.

So don’t sweat the detail; if you’ve got the ball and you can see the line, plant the friggen thing and cop yourself some meat. I’ll leave the finer mechanics of this law up to Richo.

And if the players don’t like it, then put them in my all-new five minute sin-bin.

I also considered changing the strip rule and whittling back the video referee’s scope, but we don’t want to improve the processes too much. Fining angry coaches for post-match outbursts are like the game’s cigarette tax. There’s a balance to be maintained here.

2. Concussion
Uncharacteristically, the NRL has moved swiftly on the issue of mid-game naps. However, their thoughtful innovations will be under grave threat from more rorts than FIFA if they aren’t tightened up quick smart.

Why’s this? Because coaches are conniving tip-rats, that’s why.

With their morals that bend to suit their bottom line, coaches are already cheating and whinging their way around concussion laws. Regretfully not being Freud, I can’t explain such human traits of deceitfulness, but I can cure instead of prevent.

I propose somewhat softening the whole racket by implementing a five-man bench that includes one substitute for players who have been fatefully creamed. This should at least stop the coaches whining about being down a player, even though they’ve picked Jeff Robson on their own free will.

Are there any conditions? Said fateful creaming can only be diagnosed by any NRL-appointed independent doctor provided it’s not Geoffrey Edelstein or Cliff Huxtable. Once diagnosed, you can activate your fresh whippet. Problem solved. Now how’s the serenity?

And before you say it, there’s no way that players will lie down and fake seeing tweety-birds late in the game to bring on fresh legs, because I trust footballers with my life.

3. Schedule
The season is too long. Players start pre-season in March with a niggling heel injury that has exploded in to full-on gangrene come finals time. This is not because of congenital traits or because they enjoy peeing in the shower, its because of burnout.

The only answer is a shorter season. Have every team play each other once, turn each match in to an event with a jumping castle and sit back to watch demand outstrip supply. Fair dinkum, the increased crowds that flock for a Saturday mix of Ben Barba and Ben Mingay will be like writing yourself a blank cheque.

And if you’re still not convinced as you worry yourself over trivial things like ‘revenue’, think of a world without the excruciating wailing of fans bemoaning their ‘poor draw’? “We have to play Souths twice”, “We have no byes at Origin time,” and “We have to spend time in Canberra” would all be gone under this brutally fairer system. Not to mention, it also looks after….

4. Origin
Implement my shortened season and you can plonk the cash cow on a stand alone weekend, finally allowing punters to freely debase themselves on the booze without the fear of a weekday hangover. Because as much as we like to deny it, that’s what it’s all about when the XXXX Maroons come up against the VB Blues in Heineken State of Origin. (Negotiations still pending.)

Just imagine the tangy buildup, the boost in the pub dollar and the ‘passion’ (fights) that an untouched weekend would bring? So family-friendly too.

Let’s not beat around the bush: it’s the jab this dying concept needs right now. All we need is the approval of Gynge’s black Amex, and you can thank me later.

5. Expansion
There are too many teams in Sydney. In saying this, I’m sick to death of hearing how Cronulla are the prime candidate to be logged-off forever. An area awash with as much footy history and Sizzlers really deserves better.

The NRL needs to start wholeheartedly supporting The Shire, and the only way to do this is by granting it concessions on junior development. All this would involve is stripping the licence of it’s name, brand, colours, location and staff, and then shifting it to Perth to give it the game’s biggest catchment area stretching from Broken Hill to the east coast of Africa.

Then all that would be left is to just Bring back the Bears.

6. Player conduct
In a break with tradition, this is not about off-field behaviour. With the NRL running eight consecutive days without a front-page incident, I want to focus on how the players carry on like pork chops when they cross the white line.

Firstly, discourse between captains and referees mid-game needs to be banned entirely. It’s a waste of time, not to mention a profanity hazard. We have to think of the children, right?

Besides a coat of spittle, the referees take nothing from these discussions. As we all know, they are dictated by penalty counts and nothing else. Let’s stop the stoppages and allow them to concentrate on counting to six.

Plus, there’s the matter of gentlemanly and business-like behaviour at contract time. June 30, Round 13, cooling off periods, Orr brothers, personal reasons- they’ve all got to go in favour of this following solution, which I will admit is one for the eggheads.

Now concentrate. How about making contracts binding from the moment pen touches paper? Call me old fashioned, but I reckon it could work.

Finally, there’s the skidmark of blocking, wrestling, diving, milking and fashioning disconcerting effeminate hairstyles. Again, a moratorium.

Gather all players in a circle to hold hands and then purge the following: we have all been guilty of these crimes in the past, we’ve all lied through our teeth to the public when we say we don’t do it, and now let’s all make a pact to never do them again.

7. The Roarers
Finally, down to business time. To the people: Richo needs your nuggets of intellectual gold, lest he find himself on the dole!

What’s your blueprint to save rugby league from itself?