Jarryd Hayne: when the awe is over
Watching Jarryd Hayne’s inspirational on-field audition for the 49ers in San Francisco now seems a long time ago.
I remember checking into a flash hotel next to Levi’s Stadium on a blue-skied California day, grabbing a notebook and pen, gulping a Starbucks coffee and then literally running down the Great America Parkway to the palatial home of the San Francisco 49ers to watch in awe, misguided or otherwise, as Jarryd Hayne has hustled through an on-field audition for employment in the NFL.
Anyone mocking Hayne back then, or criticising Valentine Holmes right now, needs to get out more. Get out of the country and see where the NRL sits on the global sporting landscape. Short answer: nowhere too relevant. Even in Australia, it’s only properly recognised in two eastern states. Physically gifted and starry-eyed blokes who head off to conquer the world deserve to be applauded through the departure gates. Go get ’em. Passport in hand, Hayne’s mission has seemed inspirational in 2015. Ditto for Holmes as he prepares to follow a few of Hayne’s footsteps. Not all of them.
Hayne has worked his backside off at the 49ers’ Santa Clara base. American hustle. The bow-legged assistant coach Tom Rathman has hollered, “My boy, Jarryd Hayne!” Hayne has shrugged and shuffled back to his position. He’s earned a contract. Asked to describe the unlikeliest of journeys, he’s replied: “I can’t, really. I think my actions speak louder than my words. If you go back and Google everything I’ve done, there’s nothing more than those things that you can put into words. From giving up what I gave up, coming across here — it’s the in-depth things, the dark things, the doubts, the dark days. The things I went through and came through are more significant than anything I’ve achieved. Getting through the tough days has been more important than having the days where I can celebrate. I’ve grown as a person. When it’s become tough and it’s become difficult, I’ve learned to persevere.”
Hayne’s story has been writing itself. A kid who’s been raised in Housing Commission flats in Sydney’s southwestern suburbs of Airds and Minto by his single mother, Jodie, who used to sleep on the lounge near the front door in case degenerates tried to kick it down and loot the joint. He’d become a superstar of the NRL. Sprouting any number of Christian verses and humming the tune to a Hillsong number called Oceans, he’s trumpeted the message that anything is possible if you believe. Believe in yourself. Believed in God. He’s said: “In God we’ve trusted. This whole journey has never been about making a roster or being in a team. It’s been about giving myself an opportunity. Taking a risk and putting myself out there. This whole journey, I’ve never felt so alive. To be able to walk in faith … sometimes you have to take yourself places and hope God shows up. I’ve leant on him more than ever. I want to let my faith be in action. Faith without action is dead.”
He’s convinced the 49ers head coach, Jim Tomsula, a likeable character called Jimmy T, of his worth. After he’s met Hayne in his office, Jimmy T has said: “I can’t say enough about Jarryd’s approach and the kind of person he is. He struck me as a bright guy. He struck me as a fearless guy. Obviously he’s a world-class athlete but you’re talking about a guy coming into a game he’s never played. The odds of an American who’s grown up with this game making the pro league — I don’t know what the exact odds are, but they’re astronomical, against you. You’re talking about a guy that was not raised in this game.”
Hayne has gone to America with a gridiron ball from Target in his bag. He’s suited up for eight games for the 49ers. A phenomenal achievement. These were heady nights. The scene has been electrifying. True Americana. The bomp-bomp marching bands. The cheergirls. The heaving 70,000-seat grandstand touching the clouds. The mountain-range backdrop. The Star Spangled Banners flapping in the Santa Clara breeze. The pulsating music one might otherwise hear at Temple Nightclub on Howard Street. All the bells and whistles of Any Given Sunday. The San Francisco Chronicle is smitten with Hayne. Briefly, he gains America-wide notoriety. The 49ers’ supporters are called The Faithful. They’re howling their support for him. Jimmy T has sent him a text before his first game: “Welcome to the starting line.” Hayne has said after his NFL debut. “I never thought I’d be here.”
Hayne has quit the NFL when he’s been told that the 49ers no longer want him. He’s gone to Fijian rugby but failed to make the Olympic team. Becoming an Olympic gold medallist has been the carrot. He’s returned to the NRL with his tail between his legs. He’s been average for the Gold Coast Titans. Average for NSW in State of Origin. Average for Parramatta. He’s facing a civil lawsuit in the US over an alleged sex offence dating back to his time at the 49ers. He’s been charged with aggravated sexual assault in Australia. He’s unemployed, and seemingly unemployable. Hayne vehemently denies the allegation and has vowed to fight the lawsuit.
He’s been forced to hand in his passport to police. What a representation of the Hayne Plane being grounded. His world has become smaller. Next month I’ll be grabbing another notebook and pen, gulping another coffee, running down Belwood Street to the Burwood Court House and then watching as Hayne tries to avoid 20 years in jail time. The previous sense of awe? It is no more.
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