Simon Mannering - Warrior

A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand.

ISBN

e: 978-1-988516-48-6

m: 978-1-988516-49-3

A Mower Book

Published in 2018 by Upstart Press Ltd

Level 4, 15 Huron St, Takapuna 0622

Auckland, New Zealand

Text © Simon Mannering 2018

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

Design and format © Upstart Press Ltd 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Never once did I think I would write a book and, for that matter, nor did I have any aspirations to do so. But, after a bit of persistence and a lot of arm-twisting, here it is. Thanks to my teammates, football staff and coaches for the memories and also my friends and family for all your unconditional support. To Anna and the kids, thanks for always being there through the good times and bad. Love you always.

Contents 

Foreword

Prologue

1. Sports-mad Kid

2. Young Warrior

3. Ivan the Incredible

Photo Section 1

4. Earning My Stripes

5. Loss and Leadership

6. Grand Final

7. A Period of Upheaval

Photo Section 2

8. Regaining Respect

9. Everything Is Breaking

10. 2018 Season Diary

11. Final Thoughts

Acknowledgements

Foreword

The first time I met Simon was when I was assistant coach for Tony Kemp in 2004. It was at a pre-season session at Waitakere and there was a big set of stairs that we had the boys running up and down. It was pretty intense, but Simon was handling it. He had just signed his first Warriors contract and while he was still playing for Wellington in the Bartercard Cup, he’d come up for a week or two to get a taste of what it was like training at the club. Sometimes you meet guys and see them train and they make an immediate impression. I watched him and I thought, ‘This guy’s got something special about him.’ He stood out. Number one, he was white-skinned. In all seriousness, that was unusual at the Warriors, especially as a young Kiwi forward. He seemed confident, but there was nothing brash about him and he spoke well. I think as Simon’s got older he’s become more self-conscious. Back then he was reserved, but you could tell he certainly wasn’t overawed. And that was the first time I’d ever seen him train and that day it was a hard session, but he did really well, and I thought to myself, ‘We’re going to see a lot more of this kid.’

I’ll mention a few incidents that stand out for me and I’m sure they won’t act as spoilers because Simon will tell the stories in much more detail in this book.

I’ll never forget his debut game against the Broncos at Mt Smart Stadium in Auckland. It was in the second half of the 2005 season. He came on and this 18-year-old, one of the first things he did on the field in his NRL career was he absolutely beat Justin Hodges hands down at a time when Justin was the Kangaroos centre and the best in the world. It was a true centre’s one-on-one contest, and he did Justin like a dinner. He offloaded to Manu Vatuvei, and Manu scored a crucial try. I was gobsmacked. I sat there, thinking, ‘Okay, this kid has got something.’

When I took over as Warriors coach in 2006, Steve Price and Ruben Wiki were the rocks we built the team around, but Simon, even in those early days, wasn’t far behind. He was incredible, right from the start. He and Micheal Luck were the first to get in and do the dirty jobs, and they didn’t complain. They’d get into good covering positions, cover up for other people’s missed tackles, take a hard run when everyone else was exhausted, train when they were injured. They just wouldn’t say they were injured.

He was unbelievably consistent. His defence was phenomenal, even when he was young. He dominated every tackle he made. And he wouldn’t just make them, he controlled the ruck and he was just so solid and so diligent.

There was one game in 2007 that I’ve got to talk about. Again, I’m sure Simon will go into much more detail. We were playing Manly. It was late in the season. We had to win to cement our place in the top eight. Manly were first or second at that point. And Simon was sick. He’d been crook all week. He had these ulcers in his mouth. They were horrendous. And he’d lost about six or seven kilos at the time. And he said, ‘Nah, I’ll play. I’m gonna play.’ He wouldn’t take no for an answer. And we wouldn’t take no for an answer either because we didn’t care how he looked or how he felt, as long as he could play because we needed him out there. So, he played and the first tackle he made, he broke his hand. Well, I didn’t know about the broken hand until the next day. He played the whole game with the injury. And he ended up scoring the try that sealed the match and he won the man of the match award. That went down in folklore pretty much. You use that story to instruct young guys in what it’s all about. He was only about 20 years of age at that time, still so young.

Then in 2009, he got a knee injury. We were having a bad season and that was one of the first times I remember him being injured, or I should say unable to play because of injury because he was carrying injuries all the time. He missed a couple of games. He was supposed to be out for four to six weeks and he had a Kiwis Four Nations campaign coming up after the NRL season, so he would have wanted his knee to be right for that. But the last game of the season was going to be the great halfback Stacey Jones’s last game ever. It was at Mt Smart against Melbourne. Think about it: it’s the last game of the year, we’re coming something like 14th, he’d had two weeks out of a six-week rehab and he says, ‘No, I want to play,’ and went out there and played. There’s something wrong with this guy! He just wanted to be there for Stacey’s last game. When you’re trying to build a culture in a team, acts like that — and that was typical of what Simon did — they just make all the difference. An act like that wasn’t just a huge example for the guys there at the time but also for the guys coming into the club in the future. Of course, Simon didn’t even think twice about it.

Those two games — when he was crook against Manly and Stacey’s last game — showed me he was far from normal. They definitely helped me decide to make him captain in 2010. He was happy to sacrifice his own self for the team. With Stacey, I realised he understood the relevance of occasions. He respected the players who had gone before him. You can’t buy that sort of stuff. I knew how much respect he had from the players. I knew he would be a great role model, not just for the players but for the club itself. Looking back now, it’s one of the best decisions we came up with. He would never let you down. That’s the best I could say about him.

So where does he sit in Warriors history among all the great players who have passed through the club? Well, for a start, he’s played 300 NRL games for the Warriors, and he’s the first person to do that.

It’s hard to compare different eras. Stacey was so good and I was fortunate enough to play with him at his peak, that Grand Final year of 2002. Manu Vatuvei was just brilliant for so long. Steve Price and Ruben Wiki were both absolute rocks when they played. But when you look at Simon you take into account longevity and the fact that he started when he did, when the club was basically just completely rebuilt, and he came through all that and he led the team to the Grand Final in 2011 and numerous finals series in that period. And when the club was having its worst seasons results-wise, he was still winning Player of the Year awards and finishing high up in the most tackles for the NRL. If he’s not the best ever Warrior, he’s certainly in the conversation. Personally, I would put him at the top, just for all those reasons: consistency, longevity, great captaincy.

In Australia, he’s held in as high regard as you can get. Any player who’s ever played against him or alongside him, anyone who’s ever worked with him, be it playing or coaching, just gives him the highest respect. He’s a man you like to depend on.

In the early years, he used to drive this old Holden Kingswood around. I think there was a time when he was probably sleeping in it as well. I’m not too sure about that. But I don’t think his diet was very good. That didn’t stop him training hard and playing well. I do remember when Craig Walker, our trainer, was trying to get him to eat better and Simon thought that tinned fruit was pretty much the same as fresh fruit. Once he worked out that the fresh stuff was much better for him, he started making some strides and putting a bit of weight on. He was pretty rough and ready when he turned up. But that was one of the beauties of him: he was no fuss, he was so low maintenance, he just turned up, trained hard, played well. Over the years, he learned a little more about professionalism and looking after himself and he became one of the greats.

  Ivan Cleary

Sydney, 2018

Prologue

My eyes water as I spew up what’s left in my stomach. Hardly slept a wink last night and barely ate a thing all day, and what I had eaten is now staring back at me from a toilet bowl. Nerves are getting the better of me today, and so they should be.

I am in over my head.

No more training runs, no more tips from the coaches. Time to test your mettle and see what you’re made of. I’ve bluffed my way to this point and now the bluffing isn’t going to work. You’re going to be on show where there’s no hiding, so you’re about to be found out for the fraud that you are.

There’s one thing working in my favour today — that I’m coming off the bench and hopefully that’s where I stay.

My teammates have picked up on my apprehension and they do their best to put my mind at ease, and I appreciate the thought, but it doesn’t matter what they say as I’m in a state of shock with what I’ve got myself into.

How I would do anything for the comforts of home right now doing what most kids my age do. Midday on a Sunday afternoon? Most likely nursing a thumping headache discussing the exploits of the night before, with not a care in the world. Those were the days . . .

I look at the clock, it seems to be speeding up the closer we get to kick-off and with the warm-up only a few minutes away I sneak off to the toilet for one last spew.

* * * * *

I’m 18 years old and about to make my NRL debut for the Warriors. Early in the week I was quite relaxed, but as we get closer to game day it starts to hit me. You’re about to debut for the Warriors, not long out of school, and if that’s not hard enough you’ve got to do it against the Brisbane Broncos who are going into the match leading the NRL table. And to cap it all off it’s the 10th anniversary of the Warriors’ very first NRL game back in 1995, when they lost to the Broncos at Mt Smart Stadium. It’s a big occasion for the club . . . and the fans.

This Brisbane team is stacked with the likes of Karmichael Hunt, Justin Hodges, Darren Lockyer, Shane Webcke, Petero Civoniceva, Brad Thorn and they’ve even got Corey Parker and Sam Thaiday coming off the bench.

Last night, my partner Anna took me to the movies at Event Cinemas in downtown Auckland to take my mind off my debut. Don’t ask me what the movie was. The only thing I remember is turning up and a bunch of the Broncos players are there, all the big names. I know all of them. I’ve watched them on TV many a time. They have no idea who I am, and so they shouldn’t. Anna doesn’t notice them, and I don’t point them out. I just sit there, eating my ice cream, trying to pretend I don’t see them.

It was only two years ago that I was playing rugby union in the Nelson College 1st XV, and I had never stepped onto a rugby league pitch. Now I’m about to play in the NRL.

I must have done something right for the coaches to show faith in me. I probably have less belief in myself than I should. I am never a person to build myself up. Truth is, I always knock myself down. I’ve heard of players in different sports using fear as their main inspiration. My main motivation is that I never want to let my teammates down. That’s fear, I guess.

* * * * *

I come out of the toilet and I’m sitting in that dressing room, while the trainer straps up my ankles, and I’m taking it all in. Then it’s time to put on the strip. They’re special replicas of what the 1995 team wore in that very first game against the Broncos. I will tell you one thing: man, it feels good to put on that jersey. Growing up, I saw some of the greats play in it, and now for some reason I am the one wearing it.

It’s my first game for the club, but there’s also this sense of history.

The call gets made and we all file out to the second field to warm up. Once you’ve done that you run straight out onto the field, so there is no going back to the sheds. A process from which there is no turning back has begun. Warm-up seems to be done on autopilot. Surprisingly, my legs are feeling pretty good. I have literally got no food left in my stomach and my energy levels should be on empty, but with a mix of nerves and adrenaline I’m bouncing around, light on my feet. There is no one around, no crowd, it is just us and this empty field. There are a few fans walking past on their way to the game, and the occasional one will yell out some encouragement. They don’t stay to watch. We get through the warm-up and all of a sudden I’m lining up in the tunnel.

This is such a historic event that many aspects of the Warriors’ original match against the Broncos have been revived. We’re set to emerge from the tunnel at the north-eastern corner of the stadium, walking through two rows of flames and a Maori welcoming party, and the Polynesian drummers are back.

We’re waiting there, and the manager is on the mike. We’re looking at him, waiting for a signal. We all know when the Broncos run out because we can hear the crowd roar. ‘Okay,’ says the manager, ‘you guys go now.’ We start filing through. It’s a long tunnel with a cool mural painted all the way through. We hear the Polynesian drummers start bashing their wooden sticks on their hollowed-out wooden drums.

The Polynesian boys in the team start cha-hooing and hollering, and then the rest of the boys start whooping and yelling. They’re all pumped as, and all the noise they’re making is echoing along the tunnel and I’m just dead silent. I’m crapping myself.

I can literally see the light at the end of the tunnel and I run towards it and into a wall of light and colour and sound, as thousands of yelling and cheering voices crash over me. There’s a crowd of 15,652 who have all turned up to be part of history, the best home crowd of the season so far, and they’re all yelling at the top of their lungs. And I just stay silent. Don’t look to the left or the right. The sound is like a distant murmur. I run past the walls of flame and the Maori welcoming party and the guard of honour that includes eight of the team from 1995: Aussie Phil Blake, the club’s first try-scorer, and Kiwis Duane Mann, Tea Ropati, Tony Tuimavave, Tony Tatupu, Gene Ngamu, Whetu Taewa and Gavin Hill.

But I feel insulated from it all. I’m 18 years old and my body and brain are working overtime on autopilot, doing what they have to do to help me cope and get me through this. My initial thought is, ‘Don’t trip. There’s a kerb there. Don’t trip on that kerb!’ Once I get over that, I run past where the Broncos boys are lining up and I’m thinking, ‘The fuckin’ size of these blokes!’

Chapter 1

Sports-mad Kid

As a young kid, I had a passion for sport. I wasn’t blessed with any great physical attributes or talents but would give everything a go. I enjoyed training and getting fit, but even then a lot of my mates would have the better of me on the training field. I’d get to the gym as often as I could, but it never made much difference. A fast metabolism, that’s what I put it down to. It’s a blessing and a curse. I’ve always been a big eater, though I don’t put on much weight, so through my footy career it’s been a struggle, because maintaining some size is important in a contact sport.

My dad used to love his running and I used to always get up early in the morning to go with him. I’ve always enjoyed running and training in general. You hear a lot about guys who hate training. They just live for game day. That’s definitely been me in the twilight of my career, but when I was young I loved training. I couldn’t get enough of it. Part of that was because I could see a lot of improvement as a result of all the training. You see some improvement and think, ‘Oh, I’ll keep going.’

I went to Nelson College, a traditional boys-only rugby union school and the oldest state school in the country. Heading into my teenage years I played rugby union, but I wasn’t taking sport or anything for that matter too seriously and just enjoyed hanging around with a good bunch of mates. Then at 16 I discovered rugby league, and everything changed. There’s not much league played in Nelson so, looking back, I’ve been very fortunate to be able to build a career in a sport I love, and for the team that every young league player in the country wants to play for, the Warriors. By the time I had turned 18, I had a career as a professional sportsperson and would be running on the field for the first time for the Warriors. I’m still trying to figure out how it all happened.

When I reflect on that and where rugby league has taken me, four things come to mind. A lot of hard work. A bit of luck (every professional sportsperson needs some). A supportive family (I am forever indebted to my mum and dad and without them I would never have had the opportunities I’ve had). And the last is the influence of a rugby league coach and now friend, Paul Bergman.

Looking back, it is clear to me that I owe my sports career to Paul. He saw a career in rugby league for me long before I ever did. But I’ll get to that story soon. First, a bit of background.

My mum and dad’s families are from Hawke’s Bay, and I was born in Napier. I still have a lot of family in that area, but when I was one year old, we moved to the South Island and the sunny coastal settlement of Marahau, about 19 kilometres north of Motueka, near Nelson.

A lot of hippies live in Golden Bay, a little bit further round the coast. My mum and dad, Wendy and Guy, definitely weren’t hippies, but I guess they were Greenies of a sort and were very conscious of what we ate. My siblings and I never had the usual vices kids had in those days. I’d go around to friends and they would have orange juice in the fridge and white bread in the pantry and I thought it was Christmas come early. We’d only ever buy brown bread at home and water was the only refreshment we were allowed to drink.

Nowadays I’m a bit of a Greenie, but by default really. Anna, my partner, is the green advocate. She is always into me about recycling everything and not taking a plastic bag when being offered one after purchasing something. She does her best and has taught me a lot about the environment and recycling, although I still have two gas-guzzling V8s for cars, so I’m letting her down big time there. I even take much more care these days about the type of food I eat compared to years before. I wouldn’t say I’m a health nut, but I try to eat more natural and I like to know where my food comes from.

Mum and Dad sent me to a Rudolf Steiner kindy in Motueka and I made a lot of friends there who were German. I remember everything was wooden and there were wooden toys and it was a very artistic approach, although I don’t think it did much for my creative side. We’d bake our own bread, and there was a lantern festival in winter when all the kids would make their lanterns and we’d set them up along a path. Everyone would gather together at night and walk through them. It was a bit different to your everyday kindy, but it didn’t do me any harm. I actually enjoyed it and met some great people.

Dad works at Talley’s Fisheries in Motueka, has done for years. He works in the office there, and during the school holidays he used to wrangle a job for me and my brother Marcus in the fish shed, which was good for some pocket money. It was a bit of a grind at times, especially through the hoki season. We’d get to work about 6 a.m. and if it was a busy one we might not get out of there till close to 8 p.m. We’d only be working there for a couple of weeks during the holidays, so the extra hours didn’t bother us, as racking up time and a half was always a bonus. I remember you could work through the weekends if you wanted to, and I decided to do 10 days straight and then chill out for the rest of my time off. When I say chill out, I mean blow the money I’d just earnt. I remember not being too sure of how much I’d be getting for those 10 days, but when I got my pay cheque and saw the figure of about $400 I was over the moon. Times have changed but when I was young there were endless possibilities for a 14-year-old with $400 to his name. I think in a few days my bank balance had dwindled fast, leaving me with some new clothes and a skateboard to show for it.

Neither my mum nor my dad’s families were leaguies. My dad’s family were yachties. Dad and his brothers were good sailors, but Dad’s cousin Kip Stanley-Harris was probably the pick of the bunch and ended up sailing professionally. All of my cousins can sail and did so growing up. Marcus, our sister Kristen and I are letting the family down a bit there as we wouldn’t know the first thing about getting a yacht on the water. I remember Dad trying to take me and Marcus out sailing in little Optimist boats, but we never really took to it.

Mum’s family were keen golfers, living close to the Maraenui Golf Club in Napier. Mum’s brother Phil was a very good golfer and won the Senior Men’s Club Championship while he was still a student at Napier Boys’ High.

My golfing game is very similar to my sailing skills, and although I’ve invested a lot more time in to my golf, I have very little to show for it.

Like many kids, my first foray into sport was soccer. But one year we missed registration, so I ended up playing rugby, moving around the backline, but playing most often at centre.

I’d do rugby in winter and athletics and cricket in summer.

I was all right at rugby, but nothing flash, and pretty average at athletics and cricket. While I wasn’t talented at sport, I loved having a crack. As you do when you’re a kid and