Matty Johns: Why rugby league honesty sessions can make or break a team’s season

After one of the most tumultuous weeks in recent times for the club, will Souths be able to get their “shit” together to present as their best selves against the Sydney Roosters?

Every playing group, to a various extent, deals with issues, at some time or another.

It’s how well they are able to address the problem, which determines if they can get through the drama.

The most common method in modern rugby league is for the playing group to gather, have a few truth serums, and sort through the drama.

The ‘honesty sessions’ success rate, by my guess, would be about 50 per cent. Some getting the desired outcome, others throwing kerosene on a burning bin.

At the beginning of the week the Rabbitohs coaching staff decided to lighten the mood with a “bring your dog day.”

If the success of “bring your dog day” is an indication of Souths’ fortunes, then the signs aren’t good, with back-rower Jai Arrow’s dog attacking coach Jason Demetriou’s labradoodle.

It’s OK, no dogs were injured in the bonding process. But back to the good old ‘honesty session’, and some examples of what was good, bad and ugly.

GOOD – BULLDOGS 1995

The Super League raid had torn Canterbury apart.

While the club and its players had agreed to join Super League, Dean Pay, Jason Smith,

Jarrod McCracken, and Jimmy Dymock defected soon after to the ARL, and it completely split the playing group.

Things festered so badly that teammates refused to talk and by mid-season the Bulldogs were on the end of some horrible defeats.

With finals in sight, coach Chris Anderson decided enough was enough, and called all the players into a room, stacked it with beer, locked the doors and declared, “No-one leaves until we sort this out.”

Sort it out they did, going on a winning run, sneaking into the finals and then snaring the premiership.

THE BAD – KNIGHTS 1996

1996 was horrible for Newcastle.

Beginning the year as competition favourites, the season fell apart through distraction and ill-discipline.

With time running out and finals close, we all gathered for an honesty session.

The general consensus was we needed to address discipline issues.

“We have to enforce an alcohol ban until the season is over,” one player declared.

The team’s reaction lacked enthusiasm, given that the player trying to impose the ban was the one most likely to break it. But we eventually agreed.

The next morning we all turned up for training, fresh and keen, all except that player.

He finally arrived an hour late, smelling like he’d mistaken a can of Tooheys for aftershave.

Our skipper, Paul Harragon, exploded.

“What happened to your alcohol ban?” Chief asked.

The player responded, “Alcohol bans don’t work.”

UGLY – CLUB TO REMAIN ANONYMOUS

One of the more bizarre situations took place at a club in the early 2000s.

The team was performing poorly, at a high-expectation club, which was renowned for a fast turnover of coaches.

The players emerged from an honesty session and told the club’s boss that the coach had to go.

The boss took on board the information, and called an immediate meeting, where he surprised the players by declaring that he was sick of sacking coaches, and that they had to look at themselves, because the coach was going nowhere.

The players accepted the decision, shook hands with the surviving coach, apologised and went out and got on with the job, having one the best training runs of the season. The hatchet buried, the issue resolved.

However, at the conclusion of training, word was sent out to the players that the club boss had called another emergency meeting, which they had to attend immediately.

As the players took their seats, the club boss walked in and informed the group that he’d gone away and had a rethink, “You fellows were right. I just sacked the coach.”

GOOD – MELBOURNE STORM ’98, ’99

In reading this you’ll notice coach Chris Anderson was pretty good at crisis management.

Out of the Dogs’ 1995 experience, Anderson realised that the sooner you address an issue, the easier it is to overcome.

So, in his time at the Storm, he had a method he’d use when teammates would clash or get on each other’s nerves.

“Go and get the boxing gloves.”

Rather than letting these little things fester and affect the whole playing group, Anderson would get the two feuding individuals, fit them with boxing gloves, make all the players form a circle around them, and give them 30 seconds to settle their differences the old-school way.

It worked a treat. Although, on one occasion a big, strapping back-rower was placed against a smaller, rather unassuming teammate.

Turns out the little bloke had a very big punch, and teammates had to rush in to save the big front-rower from a very big hiding.