Not all suspensions are created equal: Why Tamou sentence is just right, and why fines are just wrong

I am not, despite the occasional moment of spooky insight with which I amaze my friends, a mind-reader. So I don’t know why the NRL judiciary decided to reduce James Tamou’s suspension for ref abuse from two weeks to one. All I know is that it’s the right decision.

This is not because, as some would have it, I am in favour of a “good bloke” discount for suspensions. I totally agree that the goodness of a bloke should have no bearing on his punishment for an offence (the argument that past behaviour and judiciary record is irrelevant is a more difficult one to swallow, given that it’s generally accepted that repeat offenders cop harsher penalties than first-timers, and I never knew this was even in question before).

No, it’s not because Tamou is a good bloke (everything I’ve ever heard about him suggests to me that he is one, to be clear: it’s just that it doesn’t matter in this case) that I applaud the judiciary for cutting his sentence.

It’s simply the original sentence was much too harsh, and the reduction represents an acknowledgment of a reality that we all know, but seldom like to admit.

That reality being: a suspension that takes in a particularly important game is a tougher penalty than one that doesn’t.

You know it. I know it. And the judiciary, though they’ll die before they ever say it out loud, knows it.

(Photo by Mark Kolbe/Getty Images)

Back in 2018, Billy Slater was in danger of being suspended for the grand final, which would also have been his farewell game. The offence was a shoulder charge: the penalty was a one-game suspension. He did commit the offence, but he didn’t cop the one game, and although I am a Melbourne Storm fan and aware my opinion is therefore worthless here, I will always maintain that was a good decision.

Because Slater’s shoulder charge was definitely worth one match. And at the same time it was definitely NOT worth a grand final and the chance for a farewell to the game.

In Tamou’s case, the spray he directed at Ben Cummins was definitely worth two weeks. And it was definitely NOT worth denying a final game to a 300-game veteran.

This isn’t making excuses or exceptions for “good blokes”. It’s just reality. Anyone who claims a one-week suspension is the same in Round 14 as it is on grand final day is lying, as is anyone who claims that a two-week suspension for a 21-year-old is just as harsh a punishment as a two-week suspension for a man who probably only has two weeks of his career left.

To give the same penalty in two such widely differing cases would be as unjust as giving one dangerous tackle two weeks and an identical dangerous tackle eight.

Of course the NRL will always claim the judiciary takes no notice of such contexts when assigning penalties, because of its wish to assume the appearance of “consistency”.

But of course, taking no notice of context is the prizing of numerical consistency over actual consistency: it is to punish one man more than another just to make the numbers match.

Like I said, we all know it. Nobody actually believes that missing a final, a grand final or a final career game is no worse than missing an ordinary home and away game with no extra significance. So why, when talking about what penalty a player should get, do we pretend it is?

Now, it is strange I make this argument – and I will no doubt have to wear accusations of hypocrisy myself – because I am, on the other hand, very much against the practice, introduced this year, of switching suspensions to fines for Origin and finals games.

Why is this? I’m all for applying a discount when games are important, you say: so why would I object to slashing the chance of suspensions in those very games?

Well, here’s the thing: the reason I’m in favour of taking into account the nature of the games to be missed in a suspension is that consideration affects how fair the punishment is. Conversely, the fines system that the V’Landys regime put in place is not there to make penalties fit the crime more aptly: it’s there to make sure the cash cow’s udders stay full.

(Photo by Mark Metcalfe/Getty Images)

In short, the NRL doesn’t substitute fines for suspensions because it thinks the suspensions aren’t deserved: it does it because it wants to be sure if a star player decides to smash an opponent’s face in, they’ve got a way to help that star evade responsibility.

For I am not calling for players to be given carte blanche as long as they’ve got a big game coming up. The reason I think Slater didn’t deserve to miss that grand final was because I did think he deserved to miss one regular-season game.

It’s just that his offence was, in my opinion, of a scale that didn’t deserve any more than that – and to miss a grand final is MUCH more than missing a regular-season game.

Likewise, had James Tamou committed a spear tackle or broken someone’s jaw, I would be saying yes, tough luck, you don’t get to wave goodbye. It’s only because I think his abuse of the referee, while unacceptable, was deserving of no more than two weeks’ suspension, that I am in favour of him getting only one week on the basis that in this case, two weeks would be a much tougher penalty than two weeks would be in most situations.

The fines system of the NRL in general is actually the antithesis of the above philosophy, because it applies the same fines to players regardless of their own income.

A system that fines a player on $80,000 a year the same amount for the same offence as a player on $900,000 is patently unfair, but it’s the one the NRL has gone with. Coupled with the fact that the fines system is only in place as a cynical way to allow players to dodge real consequences, fines for on-field offences really are a blight on the game.

On the other hand, what I’m saying when I say the judiciary was quite right to give Tamou a discount is no more or less than acknowledging the length of a sentence is not the only consideration in determining whether a sentence is fair.

Like I said, I’m no mind-reader. But if the men of the judiciary panel did indeed make their decision on the grounds that two weeks for a man in Tamou’s position was a harsher penalty than two weeks for a more normal situation, I say good on them.

Sticking to that way of thinking means fairer sentences all round – whether you’re a good bloke or not.

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