Remember when the Bulldogs weren’t such a bad bet against a NSW Cup team?
When they had a forward pack of hagrid thundercats who acted like they were raised in a storm drain.
When their halves were schemers and their coaches were expressionless, hiding behind great surnames and Oakleys?
Most significantly, who remembers when they used to play finals faithfully, setting the standard?
From 1993 onwards, the Bulldogs played September football in 18 of 23 seasons, achieving success with a reptilian style that saw them step over their own mothers to scrap for a Twistie.
These teams were also notorious for being terrifying, and names like Brokenshire, McCracken, and Ward suggested you were destined to be hospitalized.
However, these days are now only a distant memory.
Unfortunately, today’s “Dogs of Woe” have gone six years without cracking the top eight, and unless something dramatic like a 17-team McIntyre System is implemented, this trend does not appear to be reversing anytime soon.
For the love of Bullfrog Moore and Folkesy’s Oakleys, where did it all go wrong?
Simply put, this once-imperious club has come to terms with living in an ongoing reconstruction that is constantly being cleaned out and paid off before it begins.
Sure, the Bankstown club’s round one loss to the Eels on Saturday was as courageous and well-drilled as it gets for a 26-8 setback – and yes, it is only the first round – but it merely underlined a newer, more frustrating dilemma for besieged Doggies fans.
That is, their club is finally drawing quality players, but once they put on the shirt, they are either wasting or wasting.
Sure, seeing names like Matt Burton, Stephen Crichton, Josh Addo-Carr, and Viliame Kikau on their roster is a far cry from the Dean Pay era, when the former club great was entrusted with cleaning up Des Hasler’s mess with only a batch of reserve-graders and a handful of coupons.
But what’s the sense of purchasing a slew of catamarans if they’re abandoned and parked in a horse stable?
Since signing, Mahoney has lost his guile, Addo-Carr has lost his Origin jersey, and Burton has lost his bearings–and it’s not only because of his unrealistic goals.
And when your roster is two-speed, as Canterbury’s is, with a number of top-line, well-paid players offset by more pawns and utilities than a Monopoly board, the big names must lift the dependants by routinely displaying their fatherly power.
Unfortunately, these incredible skills are either wilting behind beaten packs, on lonely wings, or in unfamiliar situations.
Mahoney is tireless but frustrated behind the competition’s smallest front-row, Burton’s confusion in the halves is manifesting in bomb-happy mind-rot, and while Addo-Carr has returned to his best since losing his Blues jersey, guys like him and Viliame Kikau will catch scurvy on an edge before any decent ball finds its way out.
Worst of all, how would this affect newly signed Stephen Crichton?
One recurring thread among pundits from Saturday’s game was that after eight runs for 60 metres, Cameron Ciraldo needs to do something to get the ball in this guy’s hands more frequently before his touch rate drops to rugby levels.
Can this be rectified by moving Burton back to the center and replacing him with someone from the halves who is a half?
Does Ciraldo punt on Crichton, the fullback? Or can the former Panther simply take nine hits every set and get the ball to himself out wide?
In any case, something must change before the leaks and agitation begin, both internally and outside.
Otherwise, Canterbury will remain a graveyard where careers end and saviors fall as quickly as Ben Creagh faces Justin Hodges.
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