This time last year, I realised I wanted to be a sportswriter.
The clock had ticked over midnight on 2 October at Accor Stadium after a nearly 12-hour merchandising shift at the NRL Grand Final.
Eighty thousand fans had just swarmed to witness Penrith’s comeback win against Brisbane and historic three-peat, but just two hours later the stadium felt like a graveyard left only to me and some brash friends to gleefully roam its eerie aisles.
But a faint noise steadily grew louder. Tina Turner’s “The Best,” was being blasted on a speaker by the Panthers team, returning to the field alone to properly soak in their impossible feat—rising from the dead to claim glory.
There I sat in a blue plastic fold-down seat in aisle 130-something like a fly on the wall. For a moment I imagined the dew of the grass on my palms and the cool late-night breeze in my face—in my mind I was somehow part of this history-making team.
One year on and I imagine Penrith did something very similar late last night after clinching a fourth premiership in yesterday’s thrilling 14-6 Grand Final win over Melbourne at the same venue.
All roads seemed to point to Melbourne early on as they slowly gained field advantage with every set, through big ball-carrying runs, orchestrated as usual by Harry Grant.
The number nine’s no-nonsense attack from dummy half was rewarded quickly with the first try catching out some lazy Penrith defence.
But from there the Western Sydney outfit never looked back, matching Melbourne’s high tempo and small margin for error to finally deliver the close matchup fans waited for all finals series.
So comfortable and confident were Penrith in their own abilities that they were seemingly in no rush to find a four pointer and happy to risk the final day of the season to try weird and wacky plays, whether they came off or not.
From right to left and back to the right, they finally creeped ahead on the stroke of halftime on the heels of a slowly tiring Melbourne frontline, and never looked back.
Second-half controversy wasn’t far away either.
Was it a try? Or did he fail to ground the ball? Well, maybe only God and Melbourne centre Jack Howarth will ever know (though I’m pretty sure I have a good idea, much to the chagrin of my family).
In the end, it didn’t matter. Penrith were champions were once again.
The four-peat hadn’t been seen in 58 years but cometh the hour cometh the man—Nathan Cleary, who once again guided his side home in the final minutes.
While immortality was reserved first for the Prince of Peace, rugby league immortality is now surely more than ever guaranteed for the Prince of Penrith.
Penrith’s heroics also successfully concludes “the last ride,” the team’s final chance to send off key departing players Jarome Luai, James Fisher-Harris and Sunia Turuva with another ring after years of continued departures.
Coincidentally or perhaps with a touch of Divine Intervention, one year since I began chasing that nightly breeze and peaceful feeling, and one premiership later for the Panthers, it’s time for me to also hang up the boots at this column.
Each week there’s been the chance to unpack the virtues, moral value and true “spirit” of Sydney’s favourite sporting codes.
But why the column has thrived is its ability examine our athletes in a space that, when the keyboard comes out, often tends to overlook that very quality.
“Spirit of the Game” will kick on with a new writer. Just like any athlete, there’s always a time for the next man up to take to the field with new ideas, perspectives and philosophies.
While I wasn’t there this year for Penrith’s post-match moment of tranquillity, I’m sure they were basking it all in much the same as 12 months ago.
Just as they’ve done for so long now, I’ll too keep eagerly chasing that same feeling.
