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Rugby league has now firmly established itself as a harmonious utopia, and what a two days it has been.
Thanks to old fashioned principles of good management and blowout margins, no miscarriages of justice or serious keyboard-related injuries have been experienced since Thursday night’s quarrelsome finish between Brisbane and the Dogs.
Following this era of no industrial accidents, I’m certain the game has finally turned a corner simply by not dropping a piano on itself for a matter of hours.
And make no mistake, we can be certain this means referees, fans and coaches have finally struck a secret peace agreement that will never be reversed regardless of any mistake or irrationality whatsoever.
The war is over, people. Rugby league infighting is no more.
I encourage you all to drink in this unforeseen ceasefire, as it is the closest we will ever feel to having lunch with Kim Jong Un or Phil Rothfield.
It seems like forever since that last contentious decision, all those minutes ago in Brisbane when Moses Mbye touched a man.
Do you remember the time?
They called it The Great Depression of 2018, because league and controversy were conjoined twins, and the Bulldogs were on Thursday prime time.
Refs floundered, coaches hissed, the fans breezily interchanged definitions of corrupt and inept, all while Braith Anasta’s face ran with the weeping tears of self-tanning bronze.
Remember how teams were victims of prejudice? And how The Bunker was to blame for everything, despite being introduced by the NRL with a guarantee to reduce clangers to zero, in the same way it promised zero reports of wage rorting?
This unrest bled down to other areas, rendering the game crap. Online discourse turned violent like our tabloid journalists, referees provided bent explanations, and our stadiums were killing people.
But now, those bad old days are behind us. The game has cleaned itself up in a few spins of the earth’s axis, even to the point we now have Dally M judges watching games.
However, we cannot rest.
With the referees department on a hot streak and everyone at peace, every stakeholder has a responsibility to maintain this new habitat of flawlessly adjudged rugby league, one once vast and unpopulated, but now home to accepted conclusions and newspaper stories that actually report on matches.
And I have no reason – other than the last 110 years – to believe we won’t.
Moving forward, there shall be no more crying, no more cover-ups and no more Suttons at Suncorp.
The crisis merchants who bluster about defecting to superior codes where sexual harassment is hushed with cash, they will collect a pass-out before they leave.
Fans who threaten to never watch the game again will continue doing what they do now, and watch the game again.
Everyone will accept that referees don’t hate our teams, because the only thing they hate is themselves – that’s why they became referees.
We will forever acknowledge the words of North Sydney Bears fan Alexander Pope: “To err is human, to forgive, is a fine.”
Most importantly, we will cherish this moment arm-in-arm.
Not only because it is a watershed, but because the next inevitable outrage may have occurred by the time this goes to print and one of us will probably be calling for a cement truck.
So cease typing all of those exclamation points, and turn to your fellow man and embrace. The era of grainy screen-caps is behind us.
I declare this our new rugby league utopia*!
*Ceasefire void if detrimental to the Roosters, NSW and free wifi.