A Faithful and a First-timer Take on the Footy
Lachlan Ewing (he/him) and Janhavi Gosavi (she/her)
Lachlan the Faithful
Experience: watched 200+ Warriors games, cried approx 30 times (Still not over the 2011 Grand Final), and played 40 minutes of preseason for Victoria Hunters Rugby League Club.
I’ve had a strong feeling for a while now that this year is going to be the Warriors’ year. On Saturday, 13 March, I could not have been more excited to settle in and tune into the home of rugby league, Sky Sports 4. With a crisp Lion Red in hand, we were all set to watch the Warriors’ first game of the NRL season, against the Gold Coast Titans.
With a monstrous forward pack, talented young halves, and class outside backs, the lineup looked strong. A lot stronger than any orthodox media outlet had given them credit for in the pre-season. I’m talking “first title after 27 long years of waiting” strong.
From the kickoff, the boys looked well drilled in defence, and solid going forward. Being the first game of the season, played in the 30℃ heat of the Warriors’ home-away-from-home on the Central Coast, it was never going to be an instant classic. Both teams understandably took time to feel each other out and find their groove. This was a shame, as it was the first game of rugby league my esteemed colleague Janhavi had ever watched.
I was initially worried when it became apparent she didn’t know the difference between rugby’s two codes, league and union. However, when I heard she had never watched a game of union either, I realised this was the perfect opportunity to convert a new fan to the Warriors faith. So many of us were unfortunate enough to grow up on a diet of The All Blacks, Super Rugby, and the rest of rugby union’s soulless products. By the time we first encounter rugby league, many of us are filled with prejudices and a masochistic desire to see the ball spend half the game at the bottom of a ruck. Here I had a pure, uncorrupted mind, sitting in front of a Warriors team that was growing into the game as it went on.
I was expecting the room to erupt when big Bayley Sironen barreled over for the first try of the season in the 25th minute. Janhavi missed it, and didn’t seem too fazed. We got to half time with the score only at 6-0, and I was concerned the game was struggling to captivate her.
Equally concerningly, she didn’t seem to be enjoying her Lion Red. Perhaps the old Leon Rouge just isn’t that good? Rather than the taste of mass-fermented maltiness, was I enjoying a warm nostalgia for the beer that sponsored the Warriors from 2001-2014, and seared its way into my childhood subconscious? Either way, it was fucking delicious.
In the second half, I changed tactics. Instead of trying to explain the game, I made an effort to draw attention to the beauty of Roger Tuivasa-Sheck. Not only is captain Tuivasa-Sheck the Warriors’ first ever winner of the Dally M Medal, their greatest athlete and all-round GOAT, he has some seriously well-formed features. Whether it is the humble smile that God bestowed upon him, or the rippling muscles that he carved out himself with long, hard, sweaty hours in the gym, this man has something for everyone. I’m glad a life-long Warriors fan and a total beginner could at least find common ground here.
Roger had a solid but unspectacular game, much like the rest of his team. In the end, the Warriors comfortably closed out the game 19-6. Leeson Ah Mau and Kodi Nikorima scored second-half tries, and Chanel Tavita Harris chipped in with a cheeky drop goal at the death. By the time this goes to print, I expect the Warriors to have built on this solid foundation and be on a four game winning streak. #LetsgoneWarriors!
Janhavi the First-timer
Experience: Attended the 7s once because Dad got free tickets from his workplace
We’ve tuned into the rugby five minutes after kick off because Lachlan prioritized getting his hands on Lion Reds over being punctual. His generosity knows no bounds, so naturally I have been offered a beer. I begrudgingly accept because tonight is all about being a #kiwiman.
Both the teams are clad in blue, so I’m already starting off on the backfoot here. It's a little while before I figure out the game is between the Warriors and the … Golden State?
We’re accompanied by four of Lachlan’s male friends, and I can feel my face heating up when they ask me what I think of a certain play. Rugby chat is a codified language that outsiders like myself have never been privy to. I lack the tools to engage in these conversations, much less offer valid contributions. And it’s not like there’s much to comment on - it's been a hot minute and not a single try has been scored. Just as I resign myself to being a silent observer, Lachlan offers to act as a translator and he starts with the basics.
I learn that professional rugby can be divided into two branches; rugby league is often played by the working class, while the upper class favour rugby union. I also learn that league is an incredibly fragmented game. It has a stop-and-start nature due to its rules about possession, and the jury's out as to whether this makes it more entertaining. On one hand, I enjoy watching a heap of sweaty men piled up on a ball that miraculously does not pop. On the other hand, turnovers can get tiresome and they make observing the whereabouts of the ball challenging.
In the 25th minute, #12 from the Warriors makes a big boy run and gets, like, super far across the try line. It’s moderately impressive. The halftime commentary starts so I look over at my beer. I’m still at the neck. The NRL montages that SkySports plays during the break are far more riveting than the game itself, and I feel catfished.
There’s a certain nonchalance that comes with being a rugby regular. These boys don’t intently hang off every word the commentators say. Their colloquial critiques and organically collated know-how are seen as more credible. The second half kicks in. The Warriors almost score another try, but after a KFC closeup the decision is overturned. The lads don't care. We’re yarning about whether we’ll have pizza or fish and chips for dinner, and why American football can eat ass. It dawns on me that when you're watching a team that’s never won a title in their 27 year existence, you’re not actually there for the game itself.
Kodi Nikorima, who I’m assuming is a ‘half’ because he's half the size of the rest of the team, scores a try and the non-existent Covid crowd goes wild. At some point, the Golden Girls Gold Coast Titans also score, but we miss it because we’re now sharing our personal theories on the Bain family murders. That’s how shit this game is. Lachlan picks up on my disinterest and lures me back in with the beauty of Roger Tuivasa-Scheck. He’s the Warriors captain and clearly wears the #1 shirt for a reason. I’m not really into brawn, but it’s one last valiant attempt from Lachlan to convert me into a league fan.
The Warriors manage to yeet the ball between the posts just as the siren goes for full time, and the game is finally over with a score of 19-6. Don’t ask me where the rest of those points came from, I was busy dissociating.