Matty Johns: The day my wife told an NRL player agent to ‘Get the f... out of my house’

Through the Super League war, Matty Johns saw the best - but more of the worst - of player agents. But, as one particularly enthusiastic agent found out, never mess with Trish Johns.

Player agents, in the early 1990s, were looked at as an American thing — blokes with ponytails, convertible cars and nice looking suits.

The only player who had a manager at the Newcastle Knights was our skipper, Paul Harrigan. But even then, it was his brother, Mark, doing his negotiating, not some Flash Harry who had just sold his used car lot.

Super League changed all that.

Players did very well out of Super League, but player managers hit the jackpot.

There were businessman who, seeing the amount of money being thrown about, immediately quit their jobs and became player agents.

There were nowhere near the number of agents there are now, so these men scooped the pool.

One of these men, a veteran of the industry and one of the most-respected agents, told me last Saturday night that the NRL’s expansion announcement will provide player managers with the biggest pot of gold since Super League.

Newcastle icons Matthew (L) and Andrew Johns (R) signing contracts.

“If you think these agents have power now, wait until the Bears and PNG open their doors and start looking to fill their rosters,” he said.

“It’s gonna go to a whole new level of crazy.”

It wasn’t until a year after Super League that I got myself a manager — the late, great John Fordham.

Fordo reached out and, on the recommendation of Ricky Stuart, brother Andrew and I signed on.

So right through the Super League chaos I operated solo, in complete naivety.

Ironically it was this naivety which somehow led to Andrew and I finding ourselves in an absurd position of power when negotiating. Ignorance really is bliss.

Although not having an agent throughout Super League, I did deal with a few.

April 1, 1995, Super League breaks and we are on the bus to the Parramatta Park Royal playing the Tigers the following day.

It was on the bus where we learnt the full extent of what Super League was about, but not until arriving at the hotel did we realise how chaotic this whole thing was going to be.

With basically the entire Knights playing group having no agent representation, there were a group of dodgy looking dudes waiting for us as we got off the team bus in Parramatta.

One discreetly handed me a note: “I’m the only agent Super League will deal with, sign with me or your career could be over.”

This was just the start.

Andrew and I went to our room and for the next hour we had numerous agents banging on the door pretending to have large contracts for us to sign.

The hotel ended up putting a security guard on our floor to keep agents from trying to basically break into our rooms.

One particularly persistent agent called our room, telling us he had a massive Super League contract for us to sign which would be withdrawn if we didn’t sign with him within the hour.

“Matty I have the contract right here.”

I asked where he was.

Andrew Johns (L) with legendary manager John Fordham (C) and Australian coach Ricky Stuart during secret lunch at the Fuel Cafe in Newcastle.

“Look out the hotel window and across the road to the McDonald’s, that’s me in the red hat,” he replied.

And yes, there he was, a piece of paper in each hand, waving what were supposedly Super League contracts.

We passed.

Days later I travelled with the team to ARL headquarters to meet with John Quayle and there was this agent again with several of his clients.

“I thought you were exclusive to Super League?”

He laughed.

Some agents are more than happy to pinch players off fellow managers.

Even when I had John Fordham as my representative, I was still being harassed by other agents, asking me to jump ship and telling me they could get me much better deals.

One fellow would drive from Sydney to Newcastle most days in an attempt to poach Andrew and I from Fordo.

With each visit, he’d have a different sell, increasingly more desperate.

He started pretty basic, saying he could get us a boot sponsorship, but the stakes soon increased dramatically.

“Hey Matty, do you like BMWs? If you sign with me, I’ll get you and Andrew a BMW by next week.”

I explained to him we weren’t really car guys.

So on his next visit he decided to play his ace.

“Matty if you sign with me, I’ll give you a percentage of my management company, we’ll go to schoolboy carnivals together, you sweet-talk the parents and any kid you get to sign with me, I’ll give you 2 per cent of their future earnings.”

My wife Trish stepped in

“Get the f... out of our house, you slimy piece of s..t.”

He never returned.

Don’t mess with Italian women.

Not all agents are slimy pieces of shit of course, some do great things for their clients and families.

But some don’t.

Matty and Trish Johns at their family home. Picture: Sam Ruttyn

There are players who are being used as leverage each day and don’t know it.

They are pawns in the battle between club and agent.

As a rule these players aren’t the stars, they are honest battlers on minimum wage. They might be moved on, possibly sent to an English club, often underpaid and kept in the dark, so an agent can get his desired result.

The agents, however, aren’t solely to blame. Most clubs are more than happy to play this political game.

As a result, plenty of young players have had their dreams smashed to pieces due to this immoral treachery.

The level of power some agents wield is insane.

Some clubs may as well sack their CEO, because it’s agents who run their organisation.

Originally published as Matty Johns: The day my wife told an NRL player agent to ‘Get the f... out of my house’