Warriors make Gutho pay full price for blowing golden try-scoring chance
It was virtually a 12-point turnaround with the New Zealand side scoring almost immediately off the missed opportunity.
When I fell in love with Greg “Brandy” Alexander in the 1980s, it wasn’t just his hair; my god, that shock of luxuriant chestnut hair.
It wasn’t just his speed; the scoop from the base of the scrum, then the streak to the line.
It wasn’t just his footwork; the goosestep that fooled everyone.
It wasn’t just his eyes; those glittering emerald-hazel eyes.
Well, it was all those things, but primarily, to my eight-year-old self, it was because when you watched him play, you knew, deep down in your cockles, that he was different.
If you kept your eyes on him for a whole game, you would be rewarded with brilliance. At some point, when it was needed most, he would turn a game and win it for you.
With him in the side, you knew that you’d be successful.
It also drilled into me at a young age the critical role halfbacks and five-eighths play in any team’s success. Over the last decade, I have watched with keen interest the ever-decreasing stock of halves capable of winning a competition.
On the back of Dylan Brown’s recent mega deal of AU$13m over ten years, and the frenzy of Daly Cherry-Evans’ plans to explore other options at the fledgling age of 36, never in the history of the competition has the top-tier half been of more footy and monetary value.
As a Warriors fan, I know I sit alongside many other supporters of perennially losing clubs without elite halves, who admire the Knights’ chutzpah for taking a punt on a player who, whilst yet to achieve consistently within the theatre of the NRL. At 24, he has some very, very, good years of footy ahead.
Of course, you can debate the money and the length of the deal, and it’s a greater risk than the Tigers’ exorbitant spend on Jarome Luai. But if you have no prospective halves in your development system, or perhaps more importantly, the means with which to develop them, what options are available to you to get an international half who has played in one grand final already?
Let’s be honest, when it comes to elite halves in the NRL, it’s an obvious case of the haves and the have-nots.
(Photo by Mark Kolbe/Getty Images)
Theories abound about the lack of halves in the current NRL player market. Some pontificate that a generation of players have been poorly equipped for the modern game due to systems that programmed them to run block shapes and sweep plays to exhaustion, with little thought for playing what’s actually in front of them.
This idea of “eyes up footy” has become critical to success in the modern game, with its plethora of “six agains” and defence systems that swallow up the predictable structured shape-plays.
Others go the other way, and state that it’s the complete lack of investment in pathways and junior-level coaching to aid these players’ development as they move throughout the grades.
More still, the fact that with increased scrutiny on No.7s and No.6s, and the many struggling coaches’ insatiable desires for immediate results. Any fledgling half is chewed up and spit out before they have a chance to establish themselves. Think Lachlan Illias or Ash Taylor.
The idea of serving an apprenticeship in this position has disappeared, yet the GOATS of 6s and 7s past, like Johnathan Thurston, Andrew “Joey” Johns and Cooper Cronk, all espouse the theory that a half’s best years are from the age of 28 and onwards.
The Warriors, in their thirty-year history, have only ever had four halves of note that could rival Alexander as a player – and Brandy was one of them.
Thirty years is a long time, a long time to plan and develop and strategise for the future. It is a long time to have had only four good halves, and one of those halves was so selfless he ended up playing fullback (Alexander again – see his eyes are not the only reason to love him), so another legend could begin his NRL journey at the age of 19.
Shall we name the rest? Well, you can guess the two No.7s who have the initials SJ, but alongside Alexander, the only other half of note was James Maloney, who, if we are being honest, was the critical component to lead us to the 2011 grand finale.
But the crux of the matter is that the Warriors had little to no impact on these halves, and that they themselves were responsible for their development and success.
Shaun Johnson of the New Zealand Warriors. (Photo by Phil Walter/Getty Images)
Alexander speaks for himself with his storied career before joining the Warriors. Maloney came wrapped in a package of his own relentless desire for improvement and a deep knowledge of the game that arrived sprinkled with some of Craig Bellamy’s magic dust.
The Warriors response to Maloney’s success and potential, in their indomitable style of screwing things up, was to let him leave the club, and to go on and win two premierships with two different clubs. Then, at a third, help guide the greatest winner the game will ever see in Nathan Cleary to fulfil his potential. Maloney could have been useful for a few more years, right?
I was lucky enough to have an armchair ride watching Stacey Jones play week to week for Pt. Chevalier under 15’s courtesy of my brother playing in the same side.
To watch on a weekly basis this 14/15-year-old control a team and run the ball the way Stacey did was mesmeric, like I imagine watching Beethoven compose symphonies in his teens. The ability, the skill, the control were there already, and there was no guiding hand from a Warriors official in sight.
Then there is Johnson. Well, more on Shaun in a later post, that requires a more forensic analysis, but let’s just say, the player he became in his later years for the Warriors, could have been achieved in his late twenties had he not been sacked at 28 to be replaced by Kodi Nikorima. Good one, Steve.
I once called Brandy on New Zealand talkback radio, on the venerable Murray Deaker’s iconic talk sport show on a Saturday afternoon, ahead of the Warriors’ first game against the Broncos in 1995.
I was a little older then, but I still felt compelled to profess my love for him, before asking him if he had any advice for a young half. He spoke about the need to develop your skills and work hard with your teammates. Of course, he said to listen to your coaches.
But what happens if your coaches aren’t equipped to help you? Is talent alone enough?
The concept of nature versus nurture has confounded psychologists for hundreds of years, and even formed the basis of Shakespeare’s play The Tempest (Author Note: I had to wrangle a Shakespearean reference in here for the drama heretics of my previous article).
Is it talent or hard work and learning? I think it’s both.
Halfbacks and five-eighths can be made. Brandy was, of course, naturally gifted, but it took the keen eye and nous of Gus Gould to catapult the maestro into becoming a grand final-winning halfback.
I would argue that, were it not for the tragic death of his younger brother Ben, he would have banked numerous premierships at the foot of the Blue Mountains through the early 90s.
Jahrome Hughes takes on the line. (Photo by Bradley Kanaris/Getty Images)
The witchcraft of the Melbourne Storm has certainly shown it’s possible. Their ability to manufacture premiership-winning halves out of Cooper Cronk, Cameron Munster and Jahrome Hughes (we won’t forget you Matt Geyer, you were a winger after all).
Beggars’ belief and surely has to rank as one of the club’s greatest achievements, far, far higher than cheating the salary cap for as long as they did.
Casting our eyes across the current crop of Warriors halves reads for slim pickings. Chanel Harris Tavita is a good footy player, tough, but his future lies elsewhere in the 13.
Tanah Boyd? Next.
Jett Cleary has a super last name, but if he were really a talent, Penrith would have kept him.
Te Maire Martin is a good NRL squad player but doesn’t have the mentality to win at all costs.
So that leaves one, Luke Metcalf, who I think has the groundings of a good half, pace, a willingness to run direct and square up and dig into the line, a long kicking game that can be built on and even possesses the ability to goal kick.
After showing a bounce back from the first-round criticism in Vegas, mentally, he seems to have a little swagger, also.
But Metcalf does not have the tools to lead us to a grand final by himself.
Not without some help. So, we arrive to the big question, if we can’t develop a half to win us a competition, I’m asking the Warriors administration this: are we as a club brave enough to mimic the Knights strategy of pushing our chips all in to buy a player for a chance to win the competition?
In this author’s opinion, the answer should be yes, and the player is obvious; in fact, I have already mentioned him. He is a Kiwi, has won a premiership and is coming off contract in 2027.
He currently sits with a cache of mega stars eating up his side’s salary cap, so he is yet to receive a payday that will set his family up for life after footy.
It’s the same player who destroyed the Warriors in the first half of their round 6 clash at AAMI Park with a bung shoulder and a broken hand.
Yep, it’s your Dally M 2024 winner Jahrome Hughes. Well, it’s not rocket science, right? Doesn’t everyone want him?
Here is the difference: I say we offer him AU$1.7 million a year and make him the highest-paid player in the game. You bring across his winning culture, you unlock our shining lights like Leka Halasima and Ali Leiataua, and you teach Metcalf how to win.
Lachie Galvin has shown that a promising 19-year-old is probably worth over a million dollars in the current halves marketplace. So, you won’t bring Hughes home for anything less than the figure I’m quoting.
It does blow out the salary cap, I get that, but importantly, he may entice other players to play for less.
If you think I am crazy, how else do we win a premiership, keep plodding along waiting for lightning to strike? Time to double down, Warriors and make a calculated move for your fans and show us you are serious about winning a competition within the next five years.
When Brandy kicked the winning field goal for Penrith in 1991 to defeat the arrogant Canberra Raiders, it was the happiest day of my short life.
I had watched my hero deliver on the biggest stage, where all that hope, energy and expectation, the weight of a city, had galvanised him to perform when it mattered most – to win.
I hope one day a young Warriors fan gets to experience the same feeling I had that day, watching a man of equal talent, grace and control, watching Hughes wear the Warriors No.7 jersey and lead us to our first NRL premiership.
A player who, when you watch him, you know will be successful.