Untold stories of the 1989 Canberra v Balmain Rugby League Grand Final | By Billy Rule ABOUT an hour or so before the game of their lives, Mal Meninga and Wayne Pearce stood across from each other at the bottom of the Sydney Football Stadium players’ tunnel. The men had been called from their respective dressing rooms for the grand final coin toss and to listen to the mandatory instructions from referee Bill Harrigan. It was 2pm, and soon they would be on the field in their quest to achieve the one goal that had floated out of their reach _ a Winfield Cup premiership, the ultimate reward in the toughest rugby league competition in the world. Both men were icons of the game. Meninga, the Canberra captain, awesome; Pearce, the Balmain skipper, inspiring. And their pathways to success had been strikingly similar. They were both 29-years-old, they had both played for their state, and they had both represented their country with distinction. The only slight difference was their desire. As a seven-year-old, Meninga’s ambition was to wear the green and gold of Australia. When Pearce was the same age he dreamt of playing in the black and gold of Balmain. But as Mal Meninga stood in the hot September sun with the colours of the crowd wrapping around him and the crackle of noise in his ears, he sensed he had an edge. “I remember the toss vividly,” Meninga says 25 years later. “I will never forget the toss. “We were on the field near the sideline and it was the first time I’d seen Junior (Pearce). I was pretty relaxed. I was trying to conserve energy and stay as calm and composed as I could. “And my recollection _ and it is vivid _ is that I couldn’t believe how nervous Junior was. I have great respect for Junior but I couldn’t believe it. I thought to myself ‘if this is how the captain’s feeling, what are the rest of the Balmain players feeling like?’. I think a team is the reflection of the leadership. “I noticed the body language of Junior. You notice it in their eyes and the way they speak, the way they carry themselves.” When talking about a game from so long ago Pearce has crisp memories of certain events. Other moments aren’t so clear. But he concedes he was aching to get on the field that afternoon and believes Meninga may have interpreted that urgency as uneasiness. “This game meant a lot to me,” he says. “I just really wanted to win this game. For me, it was the missing piece in the puzzle.” Pearce’s jigsaw was jam-packed with achievements. He’d played for NSW 15 times and represented Australia on 20 occasions. He was also the pin-up boy of the code being a non-smoker, non-drinker and an advocate of healthy lifestyle choices and hard work. Along the way there had also been plenty of pain. Injuries and age were slowly rusting rugby league’s man of steel. Pearce could barely see out of his left eye after suffering a detached retina during a match in 1981, and after 181 first grade battles, his knees were finding it hard to cope with the weekly grind of the game. His left knee had been reconstructed in 1986 and now his right one was giving him grief. He knew his Winfield Cup window was closing so he had given up other opportunities that season to focus on the possibility of a premiership prize. “I made a conscious decision to stand down from rep footy at the end of 1988,” Pearce says. “My priorities had shifted from seeing how many Test matches I could play and all that type of stuff to really making a difference at the Tigers. I felt the time had come to focus 100 per cent on the Tigers. “So maybe I was a little bit nervous there (at the toss). I really can’t remember. Let’s say I probably was because I couldn’t wait to get out on the field.” When the coin flew into the air Meninga called tails _ “I always went tails. Won more than I lost”. He was on the money again and made the decision to kick off. “It gave us the first chance to try and belt them”. With their duties complete the two captains made their way back up the tunnel. There was about 45 minutes until kick-off. In the Canberra dressing room Meninga told coach Tim Sheens about Pearce’s restlessness and that they’d be kicking off and running to the northern end of the stadium (right to left) in the first half. He then began preparing for a match many thought he would never play. Over the three seasons leading up to the 1989 grand final Meninga had spent more time on the sideline than on the football field. Since May 1987 the giant centre had broken his left arm four times. Despite having the build of a boulder his left limb was letting him down. Every time he came back the bone cracked in two, leaving many fans wincing with worry as they watched an icon of the game trying to play with an arm that seemed as fragile as a bird’s brittle wing. But Meninga had no retirement plans. Instead, after the fourth break in July 1988, he defiantly said: “My best years are ahead of me.” And he appeared to be right. He returned for the Raiders against Illawarra in round six of 1989 throwing opponents around like a giant amongst men. From there he went on to be part of Queensland’s 3-0 State of Origin whitewash and then returned to the Australian team in their 3-0 Test series victory over the Kiwis in New Zealand. The physical legacy of his injury meant he now played in a cumbersome guard made of fibreglass and foam that wrapped around his left arm. As the minutes ticked down to kick-off he began the process of having his brace set in place. Sitting on a rubber’s table getting strapped he looked around the room and sensed an environment of quiet confidence. He wasn’t alone. Despite the Raiders being rank outsiders in a two-horse race, coach Tim Sheens also knew the quality of the players around him. What’s more, Mal was there. When Canberra’s finals’ fling came to an end in the Minor Semi-Final the year before, Meninga was sitting on the sideline with his arm in a cast. Sheens said afterwards he believed the Raiders would have won the premiership if Mal had been on the field. What Sheens wasn’t to know was the team across the hallway also had Mal Meninga on their minds. At training that week Balmain coach Warren Ryan told his players the Canberra captain was their “chance”. Ryan was well aware of Meninga’s star power and how he could win a game on his own. But he also believed he was vulnerable. “Leave him alone,” Ryan screamed at his troops as they practiced ball work up and down Leichhardt Oval that week. “I don’t want anyone sledging him. Don’t let the champion out. Keep the champion inside.” Ryan knew that upsetting Meninga was akin to prodding a bear with a stick. Christ, that’s the last thing he wanted to do. But he also believed the giant centre could be isolated. So he drilled into his troops different plays to use _ Miller, Strain, Crash, Jerry Pick, Jet Ball _ moves that focused on working back to the short side; turning runners inside; or finding support players out wide after passing behind or in front of decoy runners. Ryan was convinced Meninga’s size meant he struggled with his lateral movement. The canny coach also knew Mal couldn’t help himself, that he would instinctively creep in from his centre position to try and help his forwards in defence. And so the plan was hatched that if the Balmain playmakers _ hooker Benny Elias, halfback Gary Freeman or five-eighth Mick Neil _ saw an opportunity to work for a rehearsed move to get around Meninga they should take it. And while that may have been fine in theory, the reality was, over the next 80 minutes, an opportunity like that may not present itself. But then again, it just might. Apart from exposing Meninga’s lateral liability Ryan knew he also had to stop him in attack. To do that he chose Pearce, his most trusted warrior, as the man to harness the Raiders’ human hurricane. Meninga played on the right side of the field so, in defence, the Tigers’ lock-forward would be on Balmain’s left edge trying to keep his great rival on a realistic rein. Methodical preparation was in Ryan’s DNA. He knew an opposing team’s attacking strengths and their defensive structures. He could tell you if a player stepped off his left foot or fended with his right arm. He warned his men about rivals who would dart from dummy half or flick a pass in panic. Nothing was left to chance. That attention to detail had also brought success. This was his sixth grand final appearance in nine years. He’d won two premierships with Canterbury in 1984-85 and Balmain were 2-5 favourites to take out the 1989 title. But for all Ryan’s pinpoint planning, there were certain scenarios he couldn’t control. When the grand final jumpers were handed out it soon became obvious there was a problem. They were too big. As the players slipped the jerseys over their heads they hung off their frames like kaftans. The smaller team-members _ Elias, Freeman and Neil _ stood there looking like they were wearing orange ponchos. “F***ing hell,” growled powerhouse prop Steve Roach. “One f***ing job to do and they f*** it up!” For the next 10 minutes the Balmain dressing room was a symphony of slashing scissors as fabric flew across the floor. Sleeves were cut off, jumpers were hacked from the bottom and electrical tape was used to lock loose material in place. “For the grand final you get special jerseys with the Winfield Cup logo on the sleeve,” Elias says. “But the sizes were all wrong. On such a big day you want everything to go like clockwork and this just caused a bit of tension.” Giant second-rower Paul Sironen also recalls the chaos, adding: “The jumpers were massive. How the hell no one checked them before giving them out in the sheds is anyone’s guess. I remember the trainers cutting the bottom off them because Meggsy’s (Mick Neil’s) was down past his knees. It definitely put a bit of last-minute anxiousness through the room.” On grand final day 1989, Balmain occupied the southern dressing room, with the Raiders directly opposite in the northern sheds. The smells and sounds from both were the same: the pungent odour of sweat, dencorub and liniment and the velcro-like ripping racket of Elastoplast and medical tape being pulled apart and wrapped around bruised bodies. Before long it was time to warm up and as the Canberra players filed out to a grassed area at the back of the stadium Meninga approached a wiry man with wispy brown hair standing quietly near the doors. “Father John,” Meninga said. “When we get back can you talk to us about the letter you gave me and the message behind it please? That would be great.” “Um, why yes,” the young priest said. “Yes, of course Mal.” Despite his co-operation, this was something Father John Woods, Catholic priest for the archdiocese of Queanbeyan, hadn’t seen coming. But it confirmed his trusted bond with the team. At the start of 1986 Father Woods had taken over as Canberra’s team chaplain. His flock was a group of young men who played football on a Sunday rather than sitting at a pew so he had to come up with a different strategy to reach his new congregation. “There was no rule book or guidelines on how to be a chaplain,” Father John says. “So I took the pledge that if you’re there (with them) and engaging where they are then there’ll be an opportunity at different times for interaction and conversations to go, perhaps, a little deeper. “So I used to turn up at training. At that stage they had all three grades training together and I’d turn up on Tuesdays and join in with all the running-type stuff. “I called it a ‘ministry of presence’. ” Canberra’s assistant coach Phil Foster remembers watching the players train in the pre-season of 1988. Having just started at the club with Tim Sheens he was still putting faces to names. As the group did their laps of the oval there was one runner he couldn’t identify. Finally, curiosity got the better of him. “Who the f***’s that bloke out there?” he asked one of the nearby officials. “Oh, that’s Father John,” came the answer. “Oh yeah,” Phil replied. “Yeah, of course.” Foster hadn’t seen a man of the cloth doing drills with giant footballers before but it was obvious there was a connection between the clergyman and the cohort of young athletes. “Father John would come to training regularly and the players would confide in him,” Foster says. “He was like a mate to the players. He’d play touch footy or do the pre-season runs and other stuff. He was a very well-liked person. “Back in those days you had to be accepted by the players. It takes a while for them to accept you. He was definitely part of the group.” The week leading up to the grand final Father John had been in Sydney doing a course at Point Piper Convert. On the Friday morning he attended a mass said by Bishop Geoffrey Robinson that got him thinking about the players he had become so close to. After the service he returned to his room at the chapel and typed up a letter to captain Mal Meninga. He drew on spiritual and personal inspiration to try and put on paper words that might inspire his mate. “The letter was triggered more by a song of Rod Stewart’s called ‘Never Give Up on a Dream’,” Father John says. “That song was about 18-year-old Canadian Terry Fox who ran two-thirds of the way across Canada with a prosthetic leg after losing his leg to cancer. “In doing that run he inspired a nation and raised the equivalent of a dollar for every Canadian for cancer. I had played the song to the team earlier in the year. It spoke to me so I was hoping it would speak to them. “(And) there’s a passage by St Paul to the Ephesians about ‘may your hidden self grow strong’ and so I began the letter by saying ‘dreams do come true if you’re willing to sacrifice or die for what you believe in’.” Soon his message was complete. Dear Mal, Just a note to wish you and the other guys all the very best for Sunday. I consider it a privilege to have been associated with you over the years. These sentiments would be echoed by your families, friends and many thousands of Canberra fans. Simply stated, the Grand Final is a challenge for you to realise your God-given potential as footballers. Inside each of you is a dream. Dreams do come true if you are willing to sacrifice what you are for what your dream calls you to be. My prayer for you is that of St Paul: “May your hidden self grow strong”. I believe that you are ready for this challenge because you have all been willing to pay your dues thus far. Sunday’s game will be your most demanding payment. It is simply another game and yet this game sums up all the other games. In this game you will find out who you are: “May your hidden self grow strong”. May it be a great game played in the true spirit of the occasion. Good luck, God bless and see you Sunday. John Father John then packed his gear and drove to where the players were staying at the Camperdown Travel Lodge where he gave Meninga the letter. After wishing the skipper good luck he headed back to Canberra for pastoral duties. He planned to return to Sydney for the grand final after saying mass in Queanbeyan on Sunday morning. Unbeknownst to Father John, his scribbling had struck a chord with the skipper, prompting him to gather his team-mates together and read the letter to them on Saturday night. And now, in the final minutes before the biggest match of their lives, Meninga wanted the priest to let the team know what had inspired such powerful words. Soon the players were back in the sheds from their warm-up. As they grabbed cups of water and sucked in their last nervous breaths before kick-off they were herded into a private part of the dressing room. Officials and peripheral staff such as strappers, rubbers and ball boys were asked to wait outside. Apart from the coaches and the men about to take the field there was only one other person allowed in. A priest named Father John Woods. A man who, for the last four years, had run with them in the freezing winters of Canberra, prayed for them when they hadn’t even realised it and listened to them when there was no one else to talk to. “Ok fellas,” Meninga roared. “Listen up. Father John’s gonna talk to us about the letter he wrote.” As the players sat on the benches around him the priest stepped forward, smiled and asked the group to close their eyes. For a while there was barely a sound, then Father John’s gentle voice broke the silence. “Guys, there is a real bond between each of you here. You’re here as a team _ you probably call that mateship. I’d also like to say that it’s the movement of the Holy Spirit between you. That’s why in the letter I wrote ‘may your hidden self grow strong’ because that’s the movement of God’s spirit. “And, you know, while you do that as individuals you actually do that as a team, you’re linked together. So perhaps now open your eyes and look at the other guys and see this as an opportunity to build on all the efforts you’ve put in. “I wish you well and hope today’s game is played in the true spirit. “Good luck.” As he finished speaking veteran five-eighth Chris O’Sullivan, the first man to sign with the club when the Raiders joined the competition in 1982, yelled out: “Yeah, and if we get behind we’ll come back, we’ll come back. We’ll keep fighting.” In the other dressing room Balmain had also completed their warm-up and were now being reminded by their coach about how close they had come the previous year. In 1988 the Tigers rode an emotional wave of support as they survived sudden death football for six consecutive weeks to make the grand final. But, in a controversial climax, Canterbury proved too strong winning the decider 24-12. Now, as the players sat in a circle around him, coach Warren Ryan unveiled their silver premiership medal from the year before and asked them a question. “What’s it going to be? You’ve already got a silver medal. Are you happy with that?” As he spoke he lay the runners-up prize on the floor and then produced another medal, a gold one from one of his Canterbury premierships. “Or is it going to be gold? The gold medal is what we’re here for. I know what you’re capable of. It’s your choice.” As he finished his speech the touch judge tapped on the door: “Two minutes Tigers.” Destiny had come knocking. TOMORROW: PART TWO “When the doors flung open, those watching were greeted with the most extraordinary sight. Wayne Pearce wasn’t alone.” Source: dailytelegraph.au/sport/nrl/untold-stories-of-the-1989-canberra-v-balmain-rugby-league-grand-final/story-fnp0lyn3-1227063811865
Posted on: Sun, 21 Sep 2014 10:27:11 +0000