Fallout from Mitch Moses spray at teammate exposes NRL ‘hypocrisy'

News.com.au

2 days ago

COMMENT
Everyone will ultimately remember where they were when Mitch Moses verbally blasted Tallyn Da Silva.
Mainly because whether you were in Parramatta or Paris, you were still close enough to be deluged in the spittle.
Debate has simmered since Sunday over the Eels halfback's venomous tirade, with every man and his dog offering their take on where his rant fell on the intersectional graph between business and bile.
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For those who missed it, Da Silva was dressed down by Moses on multiple occasions after a mosaic of rank decisions at CommBank Stadium that culminated in the dying stages with a dart on the fifth tackle that was held up over the line.
With the game in the balance and tensions running high, Moses saved his best for last with a burst of language at the former Tiger so forceful it set off every car alarm inside the 25km blast radius.
Was the halfback out of line for hammering Da Silva so furiously? Would his behaviour be tolerated in any other workplace?
Or has rugby league gone fully vegan?
The answer is simple.
Moses' demon-possessed screed on Slanderous Sunday was not only bloody excellent, it was the most heartwarming use of the 'F' and 'C' words since Chris Heighington went full Gordon Ramsay after the 2005 grand final.
Yet instead of celebrating Moses' touching gesture, there are still puritans standing under cold showers crossing themselves while righteously posting about the evils of his swears.
So why was Moses spot on to give Da Silva the industrial blowtorch?
Not only because the hooker endured a forgettable afternoon of shovelling up dung, but also because it finally returned to modern rugby league what it thought it had lost: a footballer who genuinely gives a toss.
But instead of chairing Moses off like a Kaiser and shoving a mic in his face in the hope of a second burst, we've seen a fallout that has again exposed rugby league and its turgid hypocrisy.
Not only is a cranky halfback a non-event in rugby league as commonplace as a training ground spat or a Craig Bellamy aneurysm, it's also something Parramatta players would be rigidly conditioned to after years playing with Clint Gutherson.
But more importantly, Moses going off deluxe was a rare exhibition of raw passion in a game that has gone so milky you can get suspended for liking a post or wetting a ball.
Think about it: we're always whinging about modern players being spoon-fed prodigies and soulless mercenaries lusting for the shiny penny.
We hate how they'll switch allegiances in a heartbeat and laugh it up with the opposition at full time after copping a thrashing instead of stewing on it until they develop a stomach ulcer.
So when we see a fighter like Moses hankering for victory with such drive that it manifests in a few naughty cuss words, we can't have our bake and eat it too.
In simple terms, Moses is everything you want in a footballer: tough, street smart, and completely and utterly psychopathic.
But he's not a bully consumed by malice or some kinda rogue employee, he's just a fearsome competitor whose only drawback is he needs a bib when he screams.
This is a bloke who'd kill a coyote with his bare hands just to get a repeat set, a man solely responsible for Parramatta's bright late-season progress.
And if he was on your team, you'd feel a burst of fire in your pantaloons that someone cared so much about two competition points in a lost season.
If anything, the rest of the comp could learn a thing or two from Moses feeding Da Silva these chilli-infused home truths.
Adam Reynolds is an affable chap, but maybe if he tore strips off Reece Walsh every once in a while he'd stop throwing so many forward passes?
Imagine how proud Cowboys fans and Todd Payten would've been if Tom Dearden slagged off one of his many teammates slacking off again in their rudderless operation?
Yes, Moses gets up people's noses.
But anyone who thinks he's a negative influence on their kids obviously doesn't want their child to become an elite kick-ass competitor.
And those claiming 'you wouldn't tolerate it in the workplace' have lost the plot too by comparing apples to oranges because they're lemon sour.
Of course, this would never happen in your workplace — but that's only because you don't work in a job where you bust your gut in front of 15,000 people every weekend for a company that hasn't finished a job in almost 39 years.
Sadly, this kinda hypocrisy in rugby league nowadays is like screen addiction, because it's automatic, almost unconscious, and full of RSI from so much finger wagging.
These people would be better served directing their abuse at someone more relevant, like the trainers.
Instead of berating Moses and demanding he spend time in the June Dally-Watkins Institute of Decorum, we should be celebrating the bloke for tackling adversity in a manner that doesn't involve demanding a release.
— Dane Eldridge is a warped cynic yearning for the glory days of rugby league, a time when the sponges were magic and the Mondays were mad. He's never strapped on a boot in his life, and as such, should be taken with a grain of salt.