No club embraces its history as tightly as the South Sydney Rabbitohs, the famous club of the cardinal and myrtle, of Sattler and McCarthy, of broken jaws and broken arms, of premiership records and passion and pride.
That club waited 43 long – and at times, torturous – years for its 21st title. But on Sunday night, before a delirious crowd decked predominantly in red and green and an all-time rugby league viewing audience record, they lifted the NRL premiership to the joyous strains of ‘Glory, Glory to South Sydney’.
It is a moment that would not have come without Russell Crowe.
The influence of Crowe on the Rabbitohs’ rise from the ashes is immense and it is incomparable. George Piggins may have saved the club from extinction but Crowe is the man who saved them from continuing irrelevance.
The Bunnies believe it is their manifest destiny to be both the best team in NRL and the enduring club of the working class. They believe in their symbolism, their ethos, their way. They have, more than any other team, won and they have, more than any other team, massaged their own chronicle. And so it is.
Typically left out of that narrative though is the sustained mediocrity South Sydney bore for nearly two decades from the mid-1980s through to the famous vote on the privatisation of the club in 2006.
From 1988 until Crowe took the reins of the Red and Greens, South Sydney managed to make just one finals series while collecting four wooden spoons. After winning the minor premiership in 1989, Souths put up an unenviable 84-243-7 through the end of 2006, a win rate of 25.15%.
It was a period of abject failure by any measure and one that the Pride of the League was totally unaccustomed. The man at the helm – at least in terms of actual power – was Piggins.
There is not a rugby league person alive who will question Piggins’ dedication and devotion to the Rabbitohs. His conviction and his commitment to the club is unquestionable, his selflessness and his single-minded focus heroic. But there is no backing down from the fact Souths struggled under his guidance on the field even if his leadership through the Super League war saved a proud club from a devastating fate.
After readmission the Bunnies won the fewest games in four of their first five seasons. It was more of the same. No money. No players. No direction. No plan. No facilities. No looking forward. No idea. The club survived on the whiff of an oily rag and the passion of men like Piggins but in an increasingly-professional game it wasn’t enough. The gap between Souths and the rest was widening even with the league making parity a priority.
Fundamental change was needed at the top of the Rabbitohs. Continuing mediocrity would only drive Souths to the brink again. In stepped Crowe and Peter Holmes a Court, the former a passionate Bunny with Hollywood swagger and connections to go with his red and green pride while the latter was minted to the eyeballs.
In the end it all swung on 32 votes. The vote on privatisation, which had become polarising and bitter as these matters are wont to, was held on 19 March. There were 48 speakers including Crowe and leader of the No vote Piggins. Crowe promised big. Piggins went with fear. A total of 4,896 votes were lodged with the yes ticket for the $3m takeover bid requiring 75% support. The yes vote garnered 75.8%. Piggins vowed never to attend another game, a promise he maintained until Sunday, sustaining his feud with Crowe despite the new regime’s repeated attempts to bring Piggins back into the fold.
Upon the success of the yes vote – a seminal moment in the history of South Sydney and one that sits in the same pantheon as readmission, signing Churchill, Sattler’s broken jaw – Crowe bombastically declared: “This means we have a future, we have a future and we have cash in the bank and we can begin to focus on the very thing that all of the factionalism and the in-fighting stops us focusing on, which is playing the game of football and playing it competitively”.
He was right. And his ability to convince the South Sydney members of that has delivered them a premiership within a decade. The team has been to the finals four times in eight seasons. The club has had one sub-11 win season. They have won 107 games and lost just 93, winning at 53.23%. They have upgraded their dilapidated facilities at Redfern. They have been able to attract star talent like Greg Inglis, keep juniors like John Sutton and uncover gems like the Burgess boys. The Rabbitohs have become a glamour club yet have lost none of their working class support.
This was Crowe’s vision. And he made it a reality.
He naturally had help. Holmes a Court. Nick Pappas. Shane Richardson. But it is Crowe who has led the way. He fears nothing. He will get on American television and talk up the greatness of the game. He brings Hollywood to the NRL. He gives money and he courts it. He personally brought the Burgess boys to the Bunnies, Sam being the club’s most important signing in decades. His cash, his star power, his enthusiasm, his draw have helped wash away the stink of mediocrity that makes climbing off the canvas so difficult and added the sheen that has made Redfern such a desirable location.
Crowe may have publicly positioned himself to look like the everyman fan but he is more than that: he is without question the Rabbitohs’ main powerbroker, a figure who plays a hands-on role across the club, who has a say in all the major decisions. Crowe has hired and fired coaches, signed players, encouraged a behind-the-scenes documentary.
So this is his premiership, his creation. He dreamed big and he made it happen. For all who have contributed, they could not have without Crowe. He has brought success back to Redfern, bringing the pride back to the Pride of the League. He is, quite simply, their saviour.
