A Blues Fan's Review of Origin II

There was a story doing the rounds this week that told you everything you need to know about Origin passion. It involved two young league fans from the NRL heartland of western Sydney, one a blues supporter the other a maroon. As game II of the 2014 series unfolded in the pub on the screen in front of the (won by NSW 6-4) they came together, exchanging words, then blows, as the fight spilled out onto the street. Classic stuff. Until one of them produced a rifle and shot the other in the neck killing him.

Do you get it now? This is fucking Origin and we are bad people at this time of year who will fucking kill each other.

No doubt this piece of Origin folklore was part of coach Laurie Daley's pre-game gambit as his blues prepared to take the field with the seemingly insurmountable task of beating Queensland at home to keep the series alive. Could they match Queensland's passion? Were they prepared to take a bullet in the neck for each other? Skinhead blues prop David Klemmer was, declaring before the game, "I'm ready to die for this jumper." Indeed, I'd wished death upon this very man after watching his last start at Suncorp. We were beaten 52-6 on that occasion in what should have been a tightly fought decider. No one saw it coming least of all me who'd loaded up on cheap speed and made an all-night mercy dash from San Fermin in Pamplona to Berlin to watch the game. I'd walked into a pub at halftime to find a game already over and a yeasty throated Queenslander screaming victory in my ear. I looked him in the eye and said if I had rifle right now… But I didn't and he beat me to the ground easily, spilling nay a drop of his Sternberg. A blues capitulation at Suncorp tonight seemed inevitable but still we turned out in pubs and lounge rooms across the state, because, fuck, it was on wasn't it.

The Blues had it all to do. A hostile Suncorp Stadium chock full of fermented Queenslanders funnelled Straight Outta Caxton was a tall longneck for a Blues team quivering with inexperience to down. Coach Daley wasn't buying into it though. The taunts and abuse wouldn't touch his youngsters, he said, reasoning: "That's just Gen Y… they're cool and composed." Yeahhhhh, tell that to the poor prick who wore a bullet in the neck, Loz.

The writing was on the wall early when game one debutante Dylan Walker picked up where he left off BY HAVING A FUCKING SHOCKER. He dribbled an early kick dead gifting Qld a momentum-swinging 20 meter restart. Veteran hooker Cameron Smith then opened up a tired and disorganised NSW defensive line with the clock yet to even tick past five minutes. When Walker chipped in with a couple more mindless penalties Qld potted a pair of conversions for an early lead.

It had all the makings of a long night for NSW but still the Cockroaches held on surviving a mountain of early defensive pressure. Enter blues half Jimmy 'Baloney' Maloney on an attacking spree down the left side. He finds former Roosters left-side strike weapon, Michael Jennings, but it's an absolute miscellaneous meatball of a pass, that is to say pure baloney from Maloney. It bounces around in Jennings' hand before he bats the loose ball onto his winger, Josh 'The Herp' Mansour (pronounced Man-Sore). It evades his grasp too settling in the mitts of Qld koori flyer Dane Gagai who runs 90 meters to score against the run of play. Who was surprised? This is the NSW we've come to know and hate, the one that so consistently gets our hopes up by getting themselves into the contest only to capitulate with such untimely fits of incompetence. 10-4 to the Cane Toads at halftime.

During the break my foster brother takes me on a tour of his extensive rugby league player card collection. It's a series from the 1990s and I'm gobsmacked to learn he's managed to get 85% of the cards signed. He does this by using a phonebook to track down ex-players then mails them their card often impersonating children by writing with his off-hand so as to avoid raising suspicion. "Everyone's gotta have a hobby," he tells me, to which I reply, too fucking right son. On with the game…

The rot sets in early as Qld are again gifted penalties and field position by the blues. As the aging rot-gut Phil Gould points out on the broadcast, "Queensland's already good. Don't gift them this." But they do exactly that when Fifita and Klemmer make a meal of it on the halfway line. Qld take full advantage. The GOAT, Jonathan Thurston sticks a dagger in with a pinpoint perfect kick and a repeat set of sex. And yep, here comes the pain…Boyd caps a smooth move to the left side and puts Gagai away in the corner once again for a 16-4 lead. The dip in mood is palpable. "Get the Doonside (under) tens out there. Better than these rubbish cunts," someone yells at the TV.

But if you thought the game was over you don't know NSW. They don't lose a game or a series without first teasing us with hope. Tonight would be no exception. An outbreak from 'The Herp' Mansour leaves an open wound in the Queensland defence before Redfern houso kid, Adam Reynolds shows subtle footwork and impressive strength near the line to evade a defender and slip a ball to rampaging Tyson Frizzel. It's a try next to the sticks. The Blues are behind by six.

We've said it before and we'll say it again, Qld playmaker Jonathan Thurston is a fucking genius. He somehow manages to land a long range kick on a dime manufacturing a NSW drop-out from nowhere. Seconds later he plucks our eyes out again with a short cross-field grubber into the waiting hands of Gagai, who's now scored a hat-trick. Get fucked, you're kidding. 20-10 Qld.

Thurston, man. When we look back on this unprecedented era of Queensland dominance at least we'll know it was the work of an unprecedented player. Like the great photographers, Mario Testino and Annie Leibovitz, he waits patiently for the scene to line up and nails it, pulling the trigger on a sea of anguished NSW faces as the ball sails over their heads into the arms of a euphoric Queenslander they didn't even know was there.

But it's his opposite number the infinitely more mediocre Jimmy Baloney who manufactures some brilliance next scooping up a loose Qld pass and scampering 80 meters to score, smirking all the way like the smug prick he is. With 13 minutes on the clock and a halves pairing high on confidence, having played decisive hands in two tries, NSW is on the cusp of a boil over. Cue heartbreak.

The Jennings/Frizell fuck up as a loose ball lay suspended above the Queensland try line with not a Maroon in sight so perfectly sums up what it feels like to be a Blues supporter. As we turned mouths agape to watch the video-ref replay and saw a ball rotating in slow motion as a pair of NSW players dived for it, Blues fans were given a brief moment to contemplate what victory might have felt like. And then Jennings' finger slowly creeps into screen and nudges the ball forward before Frizzel can slam it down. We'd have another try disallowed before the game but we never deserved it. Poetically, it's Thurston who once again picks our spine with a delightful no-look pass to put Boyd in space, who in turn loops another pearler over to Corey Oates for a try in the corner. Queensland take the series two-nil with a dead rubber still to play in Sydney. NSW's only hope of salvaging some pride now is to put a massive stink in Sydney and hopefully win that (bags not taking on GI).

Meanwhile, in the post-game wrap the talk from former NSW halfback and rugby league immortal, Andrew 'Joey' Johns was all about the mastery of Qld hooker and captain, Cameron Smith. It's true. Someone needs to steer the ship so Thurston can walk up and poke us in the eyes unobstructed. But I didn't notice Smith all that much and to be honest I couldn't help wonder if Joey wasn't just throwing off to protect his mantle as the greatest halfback to ever play the game. Well might he try, for there is no doubt about it now: Thurston wipes the floor with Joey, respectfully of course, but he still wipes the floor with him.