NRL cocaine drama won’t cause any damage to their bottom line

SOME argue NRL is dying from 1000 paper cuts, but the only thing fans really care about are wins and losses, writes NICK WALSHAW

Lance Armstrong, when his drug cheating was finally exposed, lost $72 million. In 24 hours.

Just as Tiger Woods’ penchant for anything in a skirt cost him $25 million, a family, even that unshakable golf swing.

Elsewhere, Maria Sharapova cheated and lost Nike. Hansie Cronje sinned, then lost his life.

But when Shane Warne gets snapped cavorting with a pair of Pommy strippers, in his Playboy undies, while banging around a giant inflatable penis ... well, Onya Warnie.

All of which means what for the NRL?

For in a week where rugby league’s cocaine problem has been laid bare on the nightclub toilet — just like it was, coincidentally, before the launch of the 2015 season — everyone is phoning sponsors, marketers, brand analysts, even Max Markson to gauge what price the code will pay.

And, undoubtedly, the code will pay. For all scandals hurt.

Especially one making your game’s illicit drug culture look more widespread than a ’90s Canberra backline. And, no, this isn’t the case.

Damien Keogh immediately stood down from his position of Cronulla Sharks chairman when he was charged. Picture Gregg Porteous

Still, there is no doubting the game has a problem when the latest rollcall of those with alleged drug links include: Cronulla chairman Damien Keogh, New Zealand Test captain Jesse Bromwich, Gold Coast skipper Kevin Proctor, Roosters star Shaun Kenny-Dowall, even some poor U/20s kid with a name lifted straight from WrestleMania — Jesse Savage.

And these are just the ones caught by police or CCTV, over one weekend.

Elsewhere in recent days, The Saturday Telegraph has been told stories of players using in club boardrooms, on Mad Mondays and with C-grade celebrities.

Then, of course, you have the ballad of Ben Barba. And before that, the Titans of 2015.

Back when the headlines screamed all the same things they do now.

But can anyone even remember it? Seems like so many scandals ago, right?

So how about we only go back a couple of months, to disgraced Wests Tiger Tim Simona. A broken fella who conceded how, when not rorting charities or fixing matches, was snorting with teammates on a Mad Monday boast cruise.

Tim Simona made claims of doing drugs with teammates on a Mad Monday. Pic: Sam Ruttyn

Which isn’t to say everyone is using. But still, it provides a fair snapshot of the code.

So again, exactly what sort of impact will this latest scandal have on the Greatest Game of All?

Um, we reckon none.

Nada.

Six to go, play on.

For rugby league, undoubtedly, is the Shane Warne of Australian sporting codes.

Since its birth way back in 1908, the game viewed as something of a knockabout everyman who drinks Resch’s, throws down if pushed, and, just like Warnie, has never pretended to be something it wasn’t.

It’s why when rugby union had Qantas Wallabies, league had VB Kangaroos.

Why just as once the code was branded with HardieFlex, City Ford and Smith’s Crisps, so now it’s Steggles, Crown and Oak Milk.

Rugby league’s history, too, is littered with men who fell.

And for crimes far worse than putting white powder up one’s nostril. Indeed, can anyone remember when the game was free of scandal? No, neither can we.

Tiger Woods has been in steady decline since scandal rocked his world.

For just as this code is made up of countless role models — wonderful fathers, brothers, sons, heroes — it is also comprised of those who cheated with drugs, salary caps and women. Men who have bashed partners, stomped heads, even pooed in shoes.

All of which culminated, two years back, in a $1.8 billion TV deal.

Which is why, like Warnie, when the game gets caught out sexting, or with a giant, inflatable penis, nobody is really surprised.

Indeed, surely, it won’t be long before the phrase “Sooooo rugby league” is ratified by the Macquarie Dictionary.

For the code has never professed to be anything but flawed.

A truth there in The Immortals. And defending premiers, Cronulla.

Hell, even Melbourne Storm, widely regarded as having the game’s strongest culture, are guilty of the greatest systematic salary cap rorting ever.

Yet rather than bringing down the code, scandal seemingly builds it up. Provides oxygen. Gives life.

A reason, every Thursday night, to tune into that next instalment of Australia’s greatest reality TV show.

Not that everyone agrees.

World Cup promotional material that features Jesse Bromwich has had to be redone since was stood down from playing in the tournament by NZRL.

For another school of thought doing the rounds this week suggests the game is being slowly killed by a thousand paper cuts. The suggestion being, no, league’s ongoing scandals aren’t blasting into rugby league’s key revenue areas — sponsorship, broadcasting, crowds, participation.

But, instead, it quietly widens a stomach wound that will eventually see the game bleed out like a spaghetti western cowboy.

And to prove a point, backers of this theory talk of dwindling bush clubs, lowered crowds and junior participation numbers, even whispers of — gasp — a reduced TV deal next time.

They remind you how in recent days both Cronulla and the Roosters have lost more than $1 million in sponsorship.

A figure that comes on the back of Tricolours officials suggesting they also lost as much again from the Mitchell Pearce Australia Day saga last year. But given the Bondi Junction boys currently sit fifth on the NRL table, and have just signed NSW Origin star James Tedesco ... well, life could be worse.

Indeed, when an NFL merchandiser was asked recently what impact scandal had on sales, he said none.

It’s just Warnie.

Who cares if Michael Vick fights dogs? Or Tom Brady deflates footballs?

The biggest determinant for sales, our expert insisted, were wins and losses. The performance of teams and players. Everything else, white noise.

Of course, there is a difference in individual sports where the athletes themselves are effectively the team. Or brand. Still, you cannot compare the impact scandal has on rugby league with that of, say, Woods. The US golfing phenomenon who, only eight years ago, was using a cleanskin, family image to sell everything from Tag Heuer watches and Gillette razors to bottles of Gatorade.

For the same reasons, the NRL also differs from South African cricket captain Cronje, the devout Christian found guilty of match fixing. And Baylor University’s recent sexual assault case, which cost the famed American institution $76 million.

And please don’t compare, either, the current cocaine headlines with those trials of disgraced cyclist Armstrong, whose multiple Tour de France wins, LIVESTRONG campaign, even autobiography — “It’s Not About the Bike” — were built on wonderful traits such as courage, perseverance and heart. For more than simply cheat, Armstrong lied.

Like Woods, Cronje, even Sharapova, he was outed as a fraud.

And, as a result, the price of that deception totalled millions.

Maria Sharapova (left) has just returned from a ban for performance-enhancing drugs.

But while rugby league as a whole has committed many sins, it has never pretended to be something it ain’t.

League fans too, it can be argued, are so wonderfully blue collar that when it comes to judging the latest youngster who gets in a stink, goes DUI or simply loses his pants in a place he shouldn’t have ... well, who wants to throw rocks from that mortgaged, three-bedroom glass house in Sydney’s West?

Better, and again, just like Warnie, the game also manages to keep producing its best athletically, no matter the surrounding shitstorm.

Like in 2015, when we started the year with that Gold Coast Titans cocaine scandal — one they said had the potential to finish the club — and finished with Dally M medallist Johnathan Thurston booting North Queensland to one of the greatest premiership wins ever.

Indeed, there is a wonderfully obscure statistic that suggests, within two years of being caught in scandal, your club wins the NRL premiership. A bizarre anomaly that has proved true for 2002 salary cap cheats Canterbury, 2010 salary cap cheats Melbourne, and 2014 doping cheats Cronulla.

Kevin Proctor copped his club and NZRL suspensions.

Not only proof of this game’s ability to overcome, but wonderful news for Parramatta Eels fans next year. And, of course, none of this is to suggest the NRL shouldn’t come down hard on those who err.

They should. And do.

The current NRL two-strike policy for drug taking — the perfect punishment.

For you want to know why Nike never left Woods at his lowest ebb? They wanted to be there for the comeback story.

All sports fans do.

Just as rugby league fans know that for every bloke who errs, plenty more are getting it right. Every time.

Besides, if rugby league did dish out life bans to every bloke who stuffed up, they’d have nobody to suit up.

And when did anyone ever wish that of Warnie?