I HAVE the unnerving sensation that I am being stalked.
Yesterday morning I discovered him on the lawn bound in plastic and glistening radiantly with the early morning dew that condensed upon his cylindrical trunk. Last night he was in the corner of my bedroom perched upon a table as his image flickered in electric shades of blue that crept up the walls, danced along the ceiling and stabbed at my senses.
And then, just this morning, as I turned on the engine to my hulking, American-made suburban tank, there he was once again, his voice following me over each hill and through every furrow courtesy of frequency modulation.
This man's name is Karmichael Hunt and he is being ably assisted in invading every corner of my life by a collective force that is more devilish and agenda-driven than Dan Brown's Illuminati and the Australian book publishing industry combined - I speak of the Brisbane's rugby league infatuated media.
If you have ever spent time in Brisbane I am sure you will already understand that rugby league runs the clocks in this town. That is why, incapable of fleeing the city or finding an abandoned bomb shelter in which to take cover, I have had the misfortune of being unable to escape the news of Karmichael Hunt's defection to that strange uncle of the various football codes - Aussie Rules.
I will leave the analysis of Hunt's decision to those journalists that get their kicks from rubbing the yolk of the eggball over their naked bodies because my interest lies in Gold Coast Football Club's motivations - or rather more implicitly in asking the question, what the hell were they thinking?
I don't know if it is possible but it would appear that this brand new club without heritage and history has managed to sacrifice the reputation of its code upon the altar of media coverage. Granted that by signing the hottest property in rugby league they have announced their arrival with Napoleonic grandeur but they have also positioned themselves as subservient to the more popular code by basking in its reflected media glory.
Contrast this with the early days of Brisbane Roar (that's right, this is still a Roar blog after all) and you will see two entirely different strategies for launching a new club. To misquote the words of Robert Frost it would appear that two paths diverged in a wood and we, the Brisbane Roar, took the path of greater integrity.
Those who have been supporting the club since its inception will remember the scant coverage the team received in the mainstream Brisbane media through its formative stages. At the time we wet-behind-the-ears Roar diehards claimed a media bias, but it was mostly due to the fact that the then Queensland Roar never did anything particularly newsworthy.
While the club did indeed choose to poach talent from the rugby league arena, it was not in the form of a high-profile, fleet-footed three-quarter but rather the decidedly less glamorous business nous of John Ribot. Effectively, the club decided to not fight the prevailing media breeze, and quietly went about the business of laying the foundations to a successful football club.
It is this success that has resulted in the media coverage that the club enjoys today. Every column inch or television segment that Brisbane Roar receives is borne of the hard work by the club and the dedication of the fan base. This coverage is organic and will continue to grow in the absence of tawdry publicity stunts because the club has established integrity.
This integrity is the reason fans criss-cross the country by aeroplane to support their team. This integrity is the reason we buy ludicrously bright orange jerseys and wear them with no hint of shame. This integrity is the reason why we are fans of our football club.
Karmichael Hunt may well be a success in Australian Rules football and certainly Gold Coast Football Club will not sink or swim based upon this one decision. However, it is reassuring that not only Brisbane Roar, but all the club's in the A-League revolution, have maintained their integrity and never succumbed to such a cheap stunt as signing a rugby league player.
It is one thing to be stalked by Karmichael Hunt with a Sherrin, but John Hopoate with goalkeeper's gloves is something I would rather not have to think about.
