BulldogBelle
27-05-2009, 11:45 PM
Murph's article this week...
Meeting the mob's withering gaze (http://www.realfooty.com.au/news/rfnews/meeting-the-media-mob/2009/05/27/1243103592922.html?page=fullpage#contentSwap1)
The Age
Bob Murphy | May 28, 2009
THIS week's column may be the last to leak from the pen of R.D. Murphy. I fear I may soon be chased into hiding — or worse, disappear forever.
For I am about to uncover a group so feared that until today it has remained nameless, even to a degree faceless. I speak of the football mafia.
The football mafia is the hierarchy of former great players from great teams, who proved themselves time and time again, who excelled in games where the temperature rose to epic proportions, and who now cast a watchful eye over the next generation, passing judgement on which teams and individuals are worthy and which are not.
By now you will be forming your own thoughts of who I'm talking about. My only advice is to think long and hard before pointing the finger, because there are more than a few football personalities posing as men with mob connections, when in reality they are simply not in their league. I know what I'm on about here — I've seen The Sopranos.
I'm speculating, but my best guess is that you only gain entry to the football "mob" once your career has ended and, having been watched by the mafiosos throughout your career, you are given the golden handshake or some sort of secret signal of acceptance. From there a reserved seat is placed at the table of football greatness.
Only those lucky enough to be welcomed to the group know who these mafia bosses are. But I've been doing some private eye work, and have found they have taken up some very important posts in the football world. Just like any secret society, they have infiltrated the very highest positions of power in the AFL, its clubs and the media.
Having spent last Friday night doing the media rounds before the game, I glanced along the radio press boxes and, as I expected, it was littered with men whom I believe are big players in the underworld of the football mafia. As a true outsider to the mob myself, I studied the faces and body language of these bosses to see if there was a secret language that could be decoded, but alas these imposing figures have been in the business of secrecy far longer than I've been trying to uncover them.
Friday night's pre-game interviews were a pretty standard affair, with the usual questions and answers. It was the subtext that caught my attention though, and gave a brief glimpse of what the mafia might discuss behind closed doors, away from pests like myself. There was, in my opinion, a definite undertone of doubt hanging over my Bulldogs.
I could see right into the eyes of some of these "Dons", and to a man they had all-but reserved seats in their company for the men from this mighty team from Geelong once they have hung up their boots. For my Bulldogs, meanwhile, there was a general look of doubt and cynicism.
I'll come back to the game itself shortly, but first I'd like to take you back to another time, another face-to-face meeting with the mob. An angry mob.
It was the Monday or Tuesday night after the first final of 2008, and with our Bulldogs soundly beaten by eventual premier Hawthorn, myself and a few teammates went along to a function run by the AFLPA to recognise the league's most valuable player.
To be frank, we felt like being anywhere else, as our performance had been quite embarrassing. Our season, which had burned brightly with promise for most of the year, was now one game away from being another disappointment.
As we arrived we kept close, our eyes remained low. With each glance up it became obvious that the entire who's who of the football world would be in attendance, and I got my first glimpse of the football mafia.
Fitting with the Hollywood stereotype of mafia bosses in suits, these men carried a presence in the room that no one talked about but everyone knew was there. By now my teammates and I had been separated in the crowd, and I was left feeling alone and vulnerable, like a baby panda disconnected from the safety of numbers.
As I desperately tried to find my table, I bumped straight into a man who I knew was very high up in the mob, and may even have been a Don. He asked me about the game and my own form, but again it was in the subtext that I could hear him saying, "You and your team are weak and unworthy."
Shaken, I spun on my heels to get out of there, but could feel several other sets of eyes on me. I now know they belonged to other mafia bosses, all of them keen for their chance to say the same thing.
Friday night's game was a classic, and while clearly the mafia are still undecided on my Bulldogs, they must at least have acknowledged that the performance was worthy of their respect. But we know only too well that only repeated showings of an even greater quality — with the whole football world watching — will earn us a seat at the big table.
Meeting the mob's withering gaze (http://www.realfooty.com.au/news/rfnews/meeting-the-media-mob/2009/05/27/1243103592922.html?page=fullpage#contentSwap1)
The Age
Bob Murphy | May 28, 2009
THIS week's column may be the last to leak from the pen of R.D. Murphy. I fear I may soon be chased into hiding — or worse, disappear forever.
For I am about to uncover a group so feared that until today it has remained nameless, even to a degree faceless. I speak of the football mafia.
The football mafia is the hierarchy of former great players from great teams, who proved themselves time and time again, who excelled in games where the temperature rose to epic proportions, and who now cast a watchful eye over the next generation, passing judgement on which teams and individuals are worthy and which are not.
By now you will be forming your own thoughts of who I'm talking about. My only advice is to think long and hard before pointing the finger, because there are more than a few football personalities posing as men with mob connections, when in reality they are simply not in their league. I know what I'm on about here — I've seen The Sopranos.
I'm speculating, but my best guess is that you only gain entry to the football "mob" once your career has ended and, having been watched by the mafiosos throughout your career, you are given the golden handshake or some sort of secret signal of acceptance. From there a reserved seat is placed at the table of football greatness.
Only those lucky enough to be welcomed to the group know who these mafia bosses are. But I've been doing some private eye work, and have found they have taken up some very important posts in the football world. Just like any secret society, they have infiltrated the very highest positions of power in the AFL, its clubs and the media.
Having spent last Friday night doing the media rounds before the game, I glanced along the radio press boxes and, as I expected, it was littered with men whom I believe are big players in the underworld of the football mafia. As a true outsider to the mob myself, I studied the faces and body language of these bosses to see if there was a secret language that could be decoded, but alas these imposing figures have been in the business of secrecy far longer than I've been trying to uncover them.
Friday night's pre-game interviews were a pretty standard affair, with the usual questions and answers. It was the subtext that caught my attention though, and gave a brief glimpse of what the mafia might discuss behind closed doors, away from pests like myself. There was, in my opinion, a definite undertone of doubt hanging over my Bulldogs.
I could see right into the eyes of some of these "Dons", and to a man they had all-but reserved seats in their company for the men from this mighty team from Geelong once they have hung up their boots. For my Bulldogs, meanwhile, there was a general look of doubt and cynicism.
I'll come back to the game itself shortly, but first I'd like to take you back to another time, another face-to-face meeting with the mob. An angry mob.
It was the Monday or Tuesday night after the first final of 2008, and with our Bulldogs soundly beaten by eventual premier Hawthorn, myself and a few teammates went along to a function run by the AFLPA to recognise the league's most valuable player.
To be frank, we felt like being anywhere else, as our performance had been quite embarrassing. Our season, which had burned brightly with promise for most of the year, was now one game away from being another disappointment.
As we arrived we kept close, our eyes remained low. With each glance up it became obvious that the entire who's who of the football world would be in attendance, and I got my first glimpse of the football mafia.
Fitting with the Hollywood stereotype of mafia bosses in suits, these men carried a presence in the room that no one talked about but everyone knew was there. By now my teammates and I had been separated in the crowd, and I was left feeling alone and vulnerable, like a baby panda disconnected from the safety of numbers.
As I desperately tried to find my table, I bumped straight into a man who I knew was very high up in the mob, and may even have been a Don. He asked me about the game and my own form, but again it was in the subtext that I could hear him saying, "You and your team are weak and unworthy."
Shaken, I spun on my heels to get out of there, but could feel several other sets of eyes on me. I now know they belonged to other mafia bosses, all of them keen for their chance to say the same thing.
Friday night's game was a classic, and while clearly the mafia are still undecided on my Bulldogs, they must at least have acknowledged that the performance was worthy of their respect. But we know only too well that only repeated showings of an even greater quality — with the whole football world watching — will earn us a seat at the big table.