Thank God It's Over

It’s hard enough being a Waratahs supporter at the best of times (actually, it's uncertain if the Waratahs have ever had one of those), but right now is as low as the Rolling Maul can remember the Waratahs ever going, and that’s saying something as they’ve made mediocrity an art form (and the Rolling Maul should know as Waratahs failure has been a constant source of content).
Usually at this time of the season the Tahs are madly scrambling to make have scrambled to just make or have just missed the semis. Some years they make it and some years not. This year, even fighting for the wooden spoon would have been be an improvement over what they have now had which is was fighting over nothing at all. Pride was the goal about four rounds ago.

Things are so bad that it’s it was even hard to get enthused about this last weekend’s clash versus the Reds.

This season, in the build up to Waratahs interprovincial clashes the Rolling Maul has looked to the sporting gods to predict a winner. Tried and tested methods have included the Tom Carter Scale of Averageness and Overrated vs Underrated. But with Carter's decline in fame and form, and the entire Waratahs team being overrated, it's time to throw the arms in the air and admit that the Reds will did win and win comfortably and everyone knows knew it no matter what tea leaf, water divining, crystal reading, or head bump method they try tried.
The Waratahs themselves are were just hanging out waiting for the maddest of Mondays and Michael Foley is was just waiting for next season and a fresh batch of sky blue jersied virgins to initiate into the Waratah culture of overentitlement and underperformance. It’s depressing but that’s just how it is was.
It would be interesting to see what would happen if the Waratahs did ever turn into the great entertainers that Spiro Savos seems to think is possible because it happened once in 1928. Probably not much. There’ll be a few more bums on seats and eyeballs on TV (and on this blog) but the Waratahs will never be water cooler material and they’ll never get a ticker-tape parade. That’s just the nature of Rugby in Sydney. Indeed it's the nature of sport in Sydney.
Melbourne will get 50,000 people turn up to watch local roller derby rivals train late on a Tuesday night. But in Sydney, 25,000 to an interstate Rugby clash is considered a reasonable crowd. Even Rugby League, which is supposedly going gang busters, struggles to regularly get crowds of that size, while Sydney FC's bubble burst about two years ago (about 12 months after they won a titile) and the Sydney Kings basketball team disappeared from public conciousness about the same time that kids started wearing baseball caps the way they were intended and stopped wearing clothes that were three sizes too big for them.
Rugby's time will come again. It's the great ebb and flow in the popularity of all sports. It will help of course if the Waratahs win a few games and win them well, Aussie Rules' expansion foray proves to be an overly expensive gamble, Rugby League eats itself again, and another Rugby World Cup would probably help too. But until then the sky won't fall, the Waratahs won't disappear and there's always the New Zealand games to remind us why Rugby is the greatest game ever invented and why it's worth sticking with it.
And if the Waratahs were to ever start winning and doing it attractively with a harmonious team, diligent and focussed maangement, a supportive local media and content fans filling the bleachers, what would the Rolling Maul write about?