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The perfect Skivvy blindside to a television makeover

Steve Matai. (Photo: Tony Feder/Getty Images)
Roar Guru
13th November, 2018
40

David Morrow had lost his lollies; my tiny Corolla speakers throbbed on life support in tune with his booming venom. It was 2010 and Steve Matai had just smeared Michael Ennis across the Brookvale turf with a callous high-shot.

No vision was needed, listeners were conditioned by past carnage, but for the ABC frontman – enough was enough.

Each shudder of my car’s flimsy panels felt like a nail in the wayward Kiwi’s coffin. Neutrals lapped it up; it was villain versus villain in a victory for the masses where the yappy Bulldog lay mute and the reckless Sea Eagle would again do time.

The chalk and cheese duo both scarred opponents for over a decade, one with words and the other without.

These days, minus the headgear and in the presence of his Fox Sports colleagues, the Ennis image continues to flourish with colours from his soothed-tongue brush.

But what of Steve Matai, hunched and wincing, surely there’s an ounce of gold within that battle-scarred heart?

Chances are though, you’ll never know unless the nickname “Skivvy” is on your list of contacts.

More at ease trying to snap a crowbar across his knee than fronting a camera, the media-shy Matai rammed home the point upon retirement just as he played all 230 games – without remorse.

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There was no premiership fairytale let alone a lap of honour. Not even a goodbye.

Sometimes the best stories are left on the back seat. On the one hand, miscreant Bulldogs can be tracked hidden above the tree-line while on the other; a mysterious and fearless dual-premiership winner can vanish quicker than Roger Tuivasa-Sheck around a hypnotised fullback.

Jamie Lyon speaks at press conference

Jamie Lyon. (AAP Image/Paul Miller)

Former Sea Eagles Jamie Lyon and Brett Stewart proved limelight and footy legends don’t always shine together.

Yet both found the heart to appease long-term fans with a goodbye lap long after injury robbed them of a traditional farewell.

Their respected premiership teammate was in the same boat but chose to skip the parade.

Privileged pitch-side memories among mates and family and subsequent moments of nostalgia can be a powerful bond.

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So for me, any chance to be on hand for a loyal servant’s last stand is a massive buzz.

One of my favourite footy memories as a youngster was being swept along in the mass stampede that engulfed Graham Eadie after his final home game.

And, in more recent times, nothing tops the raw emotion that accompanied ‘Beaver’ Menzies’ closing moments on Australian soil.

But ‘Skivvy’ Matai never played for fuss; he ticked to the anonymity of blindsiding opponents and avoiding journos with SAS precision.

He owed the game nothing yet, for some reason, as a long-term Manly man, I felt cheated by his hasty exit.

Perhaps even a sense of betrayal that, after a decade, we never got to know the man behind the mayhem.

Which raises the question; is there a one size fits all departure formula that enhances our favourite’s legacy?

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In truth, the underwhelming Matai exit probably falls between a self-effacing demeanour and caustic Manly politics.

To be fair, fans these days are often burdened by retirees as more and more simply outstay their welcome.

Never before have so many ex-players flooded our screens. Channel Nine has long been a revolving door of ex-players and now with around-the-clock coverage, the Fox League team has more starters than a Kerry Packer World Series Cricket poster.

Some are naturals, some play a season too long and some should’ve travelled the Matai path.

Ennis still yaps but he’s no gummy Shark. Through a seamless mix of articulate analysis and glint-eyed cheek, he’s converted plenty of doubters.

Michael Ennis in a suit.

Michael Ennis has glittered in his commentary career. (Photo: Cameron Spencer/Getty Images)

But, for every Ennis, there’s a ‘Beaver’ Menzies or Justin Hodges who fumble more words than Manu Vatuvei grassed kicks on a bad day.

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You might ask; who’s to begrudge a man a crust, especially if the networks continue to roll out the red carpet?

But geez, are we really better off for eroding Darren Lockyer’s rhythmic brilliance with post-match interviews conducted with the splutter and grind of an apprentice prop?

Greg Alexander was young boy dynamite back in the 80s and early 90s, like the best of Shaun Johnson every week.

His unique flair transferred to the commentary box, but with the high pitched squeaks of a teenage boy and propensity to finish sentences with ‘but’ his longevity appeared limited.

Thankfully ‘Brandy’ stuck at it, now in combination with Warren Smith; they’re my favourite game day combo.

Maybe Ben Ikin is headed along a similar track. If carting the pill off your own line is the toughest gig in footy, then hosting Fox Sports NRL-360 must be the media equivalent.

From unrecognised Origin star of the 90s to immovable weeknight regular, no one uses the word narrative more than “Hitch”.

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And why not? Fabricated stories on news free days are par for the course – even more so when regular viewers have been conditioned to correctly predict your next thought.

And what about battle-axe legends like Mario Fenech? There’s a younger generation fooled into thinking his entire working career encompassed the role of Channel Nine punching bag.

Nathan Hindmarsh is headed down the same track, belittled by the same tiresome repetitive gags week after week.

Perhaps Steve Matai got it right.

Now, with a clear head, I feel relieved for knowing him less.

Like most of his opponents at some point, his legacy lives on the park. That underrated left foot step and those kamikaze shoulders – still uncompromised by post-career clichés.

It will go down as his last and most legendary send off.

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