In the 1990's the Super League war was being fought as Rupert Murdoch tried to gain the upper hand during his battle with Kerry Packer for broadcasting rights for the sport in Australia.
After the 1997 season in Australia the Super League war came to an end, with News International and the Australian Rugby League agreeing to merge their competitions to create the National Rugby League, which commenced in 1998. The first ever team from Victoria, the Melbourne Storm entered the competition...
Out of the blue I was approached early that year by the chaplain to the Canterbury Bulldogs who informed me that the new melbourne Storm coach, Chris Anderson, was wanting to find a chaplain to help out with the team being put together in Melbourne to play in the new NRL competition.
When I asked Ken "Why me?" he replied - you're from NZ and we don't know anyone else in AFL-mad Melbourne who has any rugby background! Coming from a proudly amateur Rugby Union background, I didn't have much time for, let alone knowledge of the much-maligned poor cousin, those "professional" league players.
SO I said, "No, thanks" - given my just-arrived status and trying to come to grips with a culture that was on the surface similar, but with some significant variations... I felt justified in turning down the request.
two seasons later and the Storm surged to their inaugural premiership in just their second season in the competition... Ken rang again: 'The coach really wants someone in there - has tried a couple of blokes but they didn't work out..."
Reconsidering, I felt there could well be an opportunity here that I might regret not taking.
So, I agreed to meet the coach late 1999 and see what he might want from a chaplain...
With Christmas looming, a date was set for early in the new year. Little did I know of the events that would transpire that would make that first meeting a life-changing encounter. The BBC reported:
Melbourne Storm boss dies in bar prankThe manager of rugby league's world club champions has died after a late night prank outside a bar in Auckland. The body of Melbourne Storm football manager Michael Moore was recovered from Waitemata Harbour in the New Zealand city shortly before dawn on Monday. Police said the 35-year-old had jumped off a nearby wharf while drinking at a waterfront bar in the early hours.Melbourne chief executive John Ribot said the club and its supporters were devastated at the news.
"We've all lost a close friend and a great staff member. He epitomised all the great characteristics of what our club aspires to," Ribot told the club's official website.
"Michael was always someone who brought a laugh to the office, he was easily the most popular member of the club ... he was just a magic bloke.
"We are all in shock, the players and staff here are shattered.
In At The Deep End
It was a typically warm February Monday morning in the year 2000 when I stood in
front of two dozen hard-nosed NRL Melbourne Storm team players gathered
downstairs in their club rooms at the abandoned Greyhound Racing Track. Many
appeared tired and distracted, some were distraught. Etched on their faces were the
vivid memories of the traumatic events of the past 48 hours. The weekend had not
begun well when they suffered defeat at the hands of the Auckland Warriors - their
arch rivals from across the Tasman Sea and compatriots of seven of the ex-pat Kiwis
in the Storm Squad. That night catastrophe was added to misery when their popular
team manager, Mick Moore, was tragically drowned - accidentally falling to his death
while he and other team members drowned their sorrows at a waterfront restaurant.
I was there that Monday morning, I thought, to meet with the coach and discuss the
possibility of a role as a team chaplain. Instead he proceeded to introduce me as the
person whom the club had asked to come and help them work through this crisis.
I wondered what on earth I had let myself in for - and what was I going to say to
these guys? The coach, Chris Anderson, introduced me to the group of assembled
players with the words - “we pride ourselves on being a ‘hard’ club, but we've’ve got a
soft side too... This is the bloke who has come to help us get through this together...”
What does one say in these kind of tragic settings? What would my role be and
where would I find the resources and wisdom and even courage to know how to
minister to these professional Rugby League players who were known as a ‘tight’
group, protective of their privacy, closed to outsiders and ‘hard-nosed’ to boot.
I mumbled through a few words of introduction about who I was and said I’d be
around if any of them wanted to come and have a chat. Twenty minutes later I was
to repeat the same words to the entire staff gathered in the club’s boardroom. Half
an hour after that, kitted out in training gear, I was peddling flat out in a stationary
bike ‘Spin-session’ alongside a very muscular and heavily sweating Papua New
Guinean winger - the coach had informed me that the best way to get to know the
team and to be accepted was to join in a few training sessions with them. I was
already thinking ahead and hoping he didn’t want me to act as the tackle-bag for
several of the larger forwards with no necks!
It was a typically warm February Monday morning in the year 2000 when I stood in
front of two dozen hard-nosed NRL Melbourne Storm team players gathered
downstairs in their club rooms at the abandoned Greyhound Racing Track. Many
appeared tired and distracted, some were distraught. Etched on their faces were the
vivid memories of the traumatic events of the past 48 hours. The weekend had not
begun well when they suffered defeat at the hands of the Auckland Warriors - their
arch rivals from across the Tasman Sea and compatriots of seven of the ex-pat Kiwis
in the Storm Squad. That night catastrophe was added to misery when their popular
team manager, Mick Moore, was tragically drowned - accidentally falling to his death
while he and other team members drowned their sorrows at a waterfront restaurant.
I was there that Monday morning, I thought, to meet with the coach and discuss the
possibility of a role as a team chaplain. Instead he proceeded to introduce me as the
person whom the club had asked to come and help them work through this crisis.
I wondered what on earth I had let myself in for - and what was I going to say to
these guys? The coach, Chris Anderson, introduced me to the group of assembled
players with the words - “we pride ourselves on being a ‘hard’ club, but we've’ve got a
soft side too... This is the bloke who has come to help us get through this together...”
What does one say in these kind of tragic settings? What would my role be and
where would I find the resources and wisdom and even courage to know how to
minister to these professional Rugby League players who were known as a ‘tight’
group, protective of their privacy, closed to outsiders and ‘hard-nosed’ to boot.
I mumbled through a few words of introduction about who I was and said I’d be
around if any of them wanted to come and have a chat. Twenty minutes later I was
to repeat the same words to the entire staff gathered in the club’s boardroom. Half
an hour after that, kitted out in training gear, I was peddling flat out in a stationary
bike ‘Spin-session’ alongside a very muscular and heavily sweating Papua New
Guinean winger - the coach had informed me that the best way to get to know the
team and to be accepted was to join in a few training sessions with them. I was
already thinking ahead and hoping he didn’t want me to act as the tackle-bag for
several of the larger forwards with no necks!
Fifteen seasons later and I'm still involved - with many twists and turns and salary cap dramas faced along the way... (more on this another day!)
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