Finally, the curse hanging over the Cronulla Sharks club has been lifted forever

HAROLD HOLT is home. Forever. So could somebody now please sign him into Sharkies Leagues Club? Nick Walshaw’s take on an epic grand final.

Michael Ennis celebrates the Sharks incredible win in the grand final.

HAROLD HOLT is home. Forever. So could somebody now please sign him into Sharkies Leagues Club?

For after 50 years as rugby league’s great punchline, Cronulla are finally hosting their very first premiership party after beating Melbourne 14-12 at ANZ Stadium.

Truly, the Sharks are the NRL champions.

Cronulla skipper Paul Gallen last night lifted the premiership trophy — before an ANZ Stadium crowd of 83,625 — finally overcoming that famed Jack Gibson line: “Waiting for Cronulla to win the premiership is like leaving the porch light on for Harold Holt.’’

Michael Ennis celebrates the Sharks very first grand final win.

Removing from their backs, too, a monkey which had morphed into the size of a Grape Ape after four deciders and half a century of rugby league heartache.

So move over AMCO Cup, you now have a new drinking buddy.

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And what about how it was earned? Pick a name and we can give you a story.

Like hooker Mick Ennis, running, scheming, pesting in his NRL farewell. Or Benny Barba, crossing from an old 1980s-style scrum play.

And what about prop Andrew Fifita — a guy you may have read about once or twice recently — crashing through six Stormers to score?

Then there was veteran Luke Lewis, coming within a bee’s appendage of scoring.

Or centre Jack Bird, playing 60 minutes with a busted, err, wing.

Paul Gallen shares victory with his son. Picture: Brett Costello

And as for James Maloney ... well, he played with all the heart you would expect of a guy who gave up his brother’s wedding for this.

And so the storyline goes.

Only two years after being embroiled in the ugly ASADA scandal, Cronulla are premiers.

After years of almost being bankrupted, Cronulla are premiers.

After four grand finals and who knows how many gags, the Sharkies are the bloody premiers.

And as for the footy?

Well, sometimes you don’t so much win grand finals as simply lead when the whistle blows.

And so it was here.

First, Cronulla led by two. Then eight, Gallen breaking from a scrum base with 15 minutes gone and passing a neat inside ball for Barba to score.

But still, Melbourne at no stage looked gone.

And so it was 10 minutes after the break when Jesse Bromwich crashed over for a try which, when converted, would again bring the difference back to two.

And when Will Chambers crossed with 16 minutes to go, suddenly Storm were up by four.

Which meant, for Sharks fans, it looked bad. And we mean letting ­Richie Sambora sing at a grand final bad. Enter Fifita.

Finally the Sharks have won their very first premiership.

The undisputed NRL bad guy who, having carried a host of negativity on his shoulders all year, then went and carried three, four, five rivals over the tryline with 11 minutes to play.

And still with work to do, incredibly twisted his body around and planted the Steeden with his arm.

All this, too, happened in front of the most lopsided grand final crowd ever.

Sure, there were a few ring-ins.

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Like Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull.

But in the main ANZ Stadium was jammed so tight with fans — not to mention a posse of legends like Andrew Ettingshausen, Mat Rogers and Gavin Miller — that not even Aussie songstress Delta Goodrem could jag a freebie this week.

Truly.

Spare a thought, too, for 1997 grand final hooker Dean Treister, whose odyssey from Laguna Beach, California to a Homebush corporate suite had set him back $40,000.

But what price a win like this?

For the Sharkies have now been to four deciders including 1973, 1978 and 1997.

And they are premiers. The porch light is on. Holt is home.