I’ve spoken time and again about how Melbourne Storm’s success isn’t built around individuals but rather a structure that players must buy into.
Melbourne’s 56-18 demolition of the Parramatta Eels on Sunday afternoon was a reminder—if we even needed one—of why the Storm have been at the top for so long.
Their attack was fluid and at times breathtaking. Led by their spine, they didn’t just create opportunities—they executed them with precision.
Almost every pass stuck, every support runner was exactly where they needed to be, and every movement was part of a well-drilled system that has been the backbone of their success for more than two decades.
Watching them carve up the Eels, it was clear: Melbourne doesn’t just rely on talent. They demand buy-in.
Their system isn’t built around the individual; rather, the individual must fit into the system.
The club doesn’t change its style for a new player—it teaches the player to adapt to their way of playing.
And when they do, the results speak for themselves.
In Australia we’ve all heard footy described as a religion, and at the risk of overstretching the analogy, Melbourne Storm’s brilliant approach calls to mind an aspect of our faith.
Jesus welcomed everyone—sinners, outcasts, those who had lost their way.
But he didn’t simply accept them as they were and leave them unchanged. Out of love for each person, he called them to transformation.
“Go and sin no more,” he told the woman caught in adultery.
He didn’t reject her, but neither did he condone her sin.
His love wasn’t a passive acceptance—it was an invitation to change, to be better, to follow him properly.
The Catholic Church, as the Body of Christ, continues this mission. It welcomes all, just as Jesus did, but it also calls for conversion.
Just as Melbourne doesn’t let a new signing dictate how the team plays, the church doesn’t bend its doctrines to suit personal preferences.
It doesn’t shift its teachings because those teachings exist for our ultimate good and salvation.
Storm don’t ask players what style they’d like to play—they provide a structure that works, and ask people for commitment to it.
Likewise, Christ offers us the surest path to eternal life, but it requires discipline, sacrifice, and the willingness to conform our lives to him.
Some players thrive at Melbourne because they embrace the system; others struggle and move on. In a way it’s not unlike the journey of faith.
Some will hear Christ’s call and follow wholeheartedly, while others will find it too difficult and walk away.
But for those who stay the course, the reward is far greater than a premiership—it’s eternal life.
Sunday’s performance was a reminder that the best systems, whether in rugby league or in faith, don’t change to suit individuals.
Rather, they shape individuals into something greater. And when that happens, the results are nothing short of extraordinary.