Forget Buzz Rothfield’s Top 50 and the alcohol promotions – it’s time to end the search for rugby league’s greatest player of all time.

Why? Not because we’ve finally discovered an algorithm to determine Dally Messenger’s brilliance or if “King Wally got dogged by Wayne”.

And no, not because Nathan Cleary is winning premierships for fun, nor because we’ve finally accepted that despite his faults, Cameron Smith was the greatest conman to ever dominate our game.

Nope, the GOAT debate must end NOW due to THIS:

Because the entire exercise is a futile crusade that’ll eventually be the death of us, and who wants to spend their last breath uttering “Brett Kenny, anyone?”

Season 2025 is almost upon us and that means one thing: a raft of new implementations to streamline our game.

But stuff the ruck and the wrestle, if administrators are fair dinkum about *really* speeding up rugby league, how about a new rule demanding we stop wasting time trawling for one demigod out of more than 9000 players from across two World Wars, three global financial crises and seven iterations of the Gold Coast?

For those not familiar with rugby league’s GOAT debate, picture the Bunker taking an inordinate amount of time to tediously pore over a knock-on.

That’s what this debate has become, except the knock-on was sent up for review 100+ years ago.

Don’t get me wrong, the GOAT debate is rich nourishment and a highly effective vehicle for pub summits and airtime filler.

And to be fair, who doesn’t enjoy clinking schooners over the merits of Reg Gasnier, Bob Fulton or Brad Fittler?

Or musing over Andrew Johns’ supremacy, or whether he’s even as talented as the other superb footballer in his family, Gary?

But regardless if it’s Graeme Langlands, Darren Lockyer or Johnathon Thurston, there’s only one thing about the GOAT debate we’ve ultimately agreed on – it definitely shouldn’t be a Queenslander.

Johnathan Thurston with Billy Slater in 2008. (Photo by Mark Nolan/Getty Images)

As for the main aim of the argument?

It’s produced nothing more than a century of hung juries.

That’s why it’s time to accept its a venture as complicated and problematic as the McIntyre System, only with twice as many miscarriages of justice.

For example, why are the majority of GOAT candidates playmakers?

For a game that prides itself on knocking the opponent’s block off, rugby league sure loves deifying a peacock in pyjamas loitering out the back – and I’m not talking about the referees.

Yep, if there’s one vital sign the GOAT debate is cooked, it’s the game’s wanton desire to erroneously fill the position with a halfback.

We could at least use the debate to celebrate the panel-beaten gladiators up front, not the preened terriers out the back that you’re not even allowed to punch anymore.

Nevertheless, this still isn’t the biggest pimple on this godforsaken practice.

Nope, the widest roadblock to determining The Greatest is the game’s failure to strike a common language that speaks across all generations.

Consider variables like sports science, professionalism and scurvy and a timeline dotted with one-off Origins, two referees, three-point field goals and unlimited interchanges, and it’s clear nobody is on the same page.

That’s why nobody can tell if Clive Churchill would’ve survived in the modern day despite weighing half the size of James Fisher-Harris’s shoulder bag, or if subjected to the same science and training, if he’d slay his way to a Rothmans Medal and a part-time deal with Triple M.

Further widening the gulf is a modern game drowning in 24/7 opinions and fantasy football culture, an evil mix that has delivered such analysis paralysis that Des Hasler once claimed the best prop in the comp was Aiden Tolman.

Arthur Beetson in 2009. (Photo by Craig Golding/Getty Images)

No wonder Pop’s belief that Viv Thicknesse was “the Miles Davis of the NSWRL” will never resonate with the youngsters “Rizz King” of the modern day.

Humankind’s crusade to determine the rugby league GOAT is becoming more futile with every column and post, and until we get Dave Brown on the VB Hard Earned Index, it’ll never be resolved.

For ironclad proof, look no further than the Immortals concept.

Once established as the game’s most exclusive circle, now there’s more blokes in the club than the 5:15 to Burwood and with twice as many passengers likely to board.

It’s sad to think that a treasured concept spawned as a promotion for commemorative plonk would lead to so many “blind rankings”.

In summary, unless we’re talking about sliced bread or Rabs Warren, there is no Greatest of All Time – only players who featured most frequently at the time in Matty Nable promos.

And that’s why when it comes to determining the GOAT, we might as well give it away.

Besides, we all know it’s Artie Beetson anyway.