Despite assurances from Todd Greenberg, NRL players are still dragging their feet to the sin bin
LAST Friday night, I really wanted a cup of coffee, to do some ironing and bake some scones. Thankfully, Tyrone Peachey took so long to go to the sin bin, I had time for all this and more, writes PAUL KENT.
Opinion
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LIFE gets so busy in the NRL season even your ordinary household job will often go a whole winter without being tended to.
Thankfully, the ever thoughtful NRL has developed its own built-in system, perhaps by accident, to lower divorce rates and raise the general domestic output during football season.
They call it the sin bin.
I am thinking about this Friday night about the same time I begin feeling like I could really do with a cup of coffee when one of those wonderful moments of serendipity occurs.
I do not want to miss a minute of action so I figure the coffee has to wait when, out of nowhere, Cooper Cronk boots the ball up high in the air and the Roosters players charge through like Indians over the hill and it happens.
From nowhere Tyrone Peachey drifts across and knocks over Joseph Manu on the chase.
It was a clear infraction and referee Ben Cummins immediately shows he is the man for the job.
He sends Peachey to the sin bin for 10 minutes.
Realising there was a break in play I rush to the kitchen and throw the jug on, hoping to make a quick cup of coffee and not miss a moment of play.
Three minutes on the boil — it is a slow jug — and by the time I get back to the lounge I am relieved to find Peachey is still looking at referee Cummins with an expression of confusion.
I have not missed a second of game time.
It is about then I spot the mountain of ironing in the corner that even Tom Trbojevic couldn’t jump over and my conscience gets the better of me.
All that has changed on the field is Peachey’s expression, going from confusion to bewilderment.
Beautiful.
I pull out the ironing board and work through the linen at a gentle pace before moving to the smaller items and finally the delicates, finally getting back to the game in time to see Peachey turn with the slow drift of molasses and look at the referee as if to question the sin-binning at all.
Wonderful.
I realise time is on my side.
There is more than enough time to bake some scones for the 11-year-old in the house so I preheat the oven at an even 200 degrees while I whip the dough into a fluffy consistency, lightly dusting the baking tray, then throw the scones in the oven for 25 minutes until they are golden and well risen.
The 11-year-old will love this, I think. Call me Father of the Year.
By the time I make it back to the couch Peachey has paused in his walk-off to pull his mouth guard out.
This easily buys me enough time to begin that second coat in the spare room, the first coat going on in February but the finisher held up once the NRL season kicked off.
If only I had known how to better utilise my time with the what we all have come to know as the slow sin bin walk-off.
It’s a forgivable sin.
The NRL has misled us, as late as last month, when NRL boss Todd Greenberg seemed to be intruding on our domestic duties at a press conference when he announced the NRL was going to stop time-wasting on the field.
“We talked about this at the competition committee meeting,” Greenberg said last month.
“The starting proposition was to put the onus of responsibility back on the coaches and the players.
“We’ve said that to the coaches and players — if you get sent to the sin bin, get off the field and do it quickly. If that’s going to continue to delay, then I’ll come in over the top and mandate some changes.”
Thanks heavens the coaches and players are not listening and the game is also doing nothing about it.
With the spare bedroom now drying I managed to make it back to the TV just in time to catch Peachey stopping and bending and pulling his socks up.
Brilliant.
I pick up a book and quickly get through seven chapters of Tolstoy’s War And Peace and know, at this rate, I will have the whole 1225 pages finished without missing a moments’ action on the field.
By the time the Rostovs have abandoned Moscow I pop my head up to catch Peachey turning to the referee again.
What he is hoping for nobody knows, but the good news is Peachey is wasting so much time Cummins has finally called time off with 18:35 left on the clock, meaning just 20 seconds has elapsed in game time but.
The bad news is I have grown a beard since kick off and will need to shave again but the good news is Peachey ain’t off the field yet.
There is more than enough time the way they play it in this new NRL.
Outstanding.