Rivalry is what makes sport what it is. The passion, the intensity, the high stakes, the glory, the pain of defeat. The tension between the supporters, the determination of the players and the varying reactions to the critical moments. It’s what you find when 2 teams who hate each other’s guts go into battle.
In Australia, one rivalry outlasts any other. You can have your club rivalries and the clashes between biter international enemies, but an interstate battle in any sport is what makes the blood boil. Queensland and New South Wales have hated each other for many years, and in Rugby League (a minor sport in the UK compared to football), they have been going at it for 25 years. Of course, I am discounting the many residential battles that fizzled out into the pages of the history books in the early 80’s.
In one corner in the Sky Blue jumpers are New South Wales. They think that they are overlords of everything in Australia. They like to think they are superior in everything they do. They are hated by every other state because they have a kind of arrogance that irks the common person living elsewhere. Just about everything in the state is bigger than what any other state can offer, despite their dreams and aspirations.
Facing them in the opposite corner, resplendent in Maroon, are Queensland. Always the bridesmaid, forever trying to outwit the state south of the border in search of greatness. Always showing true grit rather than liking to wait for a ‘prettyboy’ to come up with a miracle on 34th street. A state that shows passion unlike so many others in the country.
For 25 years, the phrase “Mate against Mate, State against State” has reigned supreme. State of Origin is more than just a battle between 2 groups of 17 players who bash the shit out of each other, even when they are bleeding. It has become a sporting institution around the country that is highly anticipated. Bragging rights are up for grabs for whoever is triumphant over the 3 matches. It was once a battle for International honours, but International Rugby League is just about shot. It is the showpiece for Rugby League.
So many memorable moments have entered into folklore and memories. You can reel off a number of all in brawls and bone jarring tackles. There are memorable tries and dramatic images that are recalled in an instant over another Tooheys or XXXX at the bar. There are the stories that surround the background of players, from someone plucked from reserve grade obscurity, to the high schooler who was mistaken for a fan in the elevator of the team hotel when he arrived in camp. Of course, only the very best get to play at this level, for it is only the best that have the ability to survive a game that is unlike any other. It is also a night where the legends of past origins get the urge to pull on the boots once more even though physical condition may not be their strongpoint.
As a Victorian, we are allied with Queensland for the entire series. It’s not because we are in love with Queensland, but because New South Wales is generally regarded as a shithole with assholes acting as inhabitants. Sure, there has been matches played in Melbourne on 4 occasions with NSW winning 3 of those games, but in the end, the feeling between us can be summed up in just one word. As the men in the maroon troop down the tunnel to begin another chapter in the tradition and history that State of Origin has become, there is a lone voice screaming at the top of his lungs….
QUEENSLANDER!!!
If that’s not getting the tingle up the spine of people from Weipa to Goondiwindi, from Cloncurry to Fraser Island, and everywhere else in between, then call yourselves an inbred or consider yourself to be from the UK.
