Kids these days, eh? Three weeks as a baggage handler and they expect to be flying the planes. A month in reception and they’re wondering why they’re not CEO yet.
We hear a lot about the impulsiveness of youth, but at its core, this Lachie Galvin saga is about the impatience of youth.
The kid wants it all and he wants it now. Two years ago he had Vegemite sandwiches in his lunchbox. Now a million dollars is Monopoly money.
Sure, you can blame his agent Isaac Moses, a man who breaks relationships the way that God parted the Red Sea for his biblical namesake. But even if you view this thing through the lens of a predatory proxy, Galvin still looks naïve at best.
At worst, he appears big-headed and ungrateful.
Imagine getting a go early in your career like Galvin got. And not just any old go in first grade, but free rein to play however you like.
Who gets that?
Ironically enough, Benji did, and he won a premiership. The only thing Lachlan Galvin has delivered – apart from some really nice passes to put players in space – is disharmony among his teammates and heartbreak for fans.
They say that Galvin didn’t enjoy losing games in his debut season last year. Boo bloody hoo.
What happened to the school of hard knocks? What happened to adversity making you stronger? What happened to enduring life’s hard lessons so that the future good times are all the sweeter?
They say that Galvin doesn’t rate Benji’s coaching. So here’s the thing about that – and pay attention because this part is important.
Firstly, nobody knows if Benji is a good coach or not yet, not least Benji himself, because we haven’t had long enough to find out. The sample size is still way too small.
Secondly, in recent seasons the Tigers had three great coaches – each of them past or future premiership winners – in Ivan Cleary, Tim Sheens and Michael Maguire. How did they go? Did anyone question their coaching ability when they tucked into Mad Monday lunch with their latest piece of timber cutlery?
Lachlan Galvin of the Wests Tigers (Photo by Mark Metcalfe/Getty Images)
Thirdly, who the hell is a 19-year-old kid at his first NRL club to know what does or doesn’t make a good NRL coach?
What’s his yardstick?
The reality about Benji Marshall’s coaching appointment is that he’s part figurehead, part coach anyway. The Tigers have long needed a unifying figure in the coach’s box and they’ve got it in Benji. If he turns out to be even an half-decent coach, all the better. And by the way, why wouldn’t he?
Benji is remembered for his brilliance but late in his career he became a smart player – replacing his jinking runs and flick passes with crisp cut-out balls and strategic kicking. Canny, versatile players generally make good coaches.
As Wayne Bennett said, Benji also became the ultimate team man at Souths, who naturally mentored young players without being asked. That kind of person is usually cut out for coaching too.
This is hard to swallow as a Tigers fan. Galvin is only one player, but the fact that a local junior wants no part of the club is the same gut punch feeling as when Tedesco, Woods and Moses departed en masse.
For too long, we’ve been the fan base that just cops it. Shit rains on us and we don’t even bother putting up an umbrella, because like a soggy southerly at Leichhardt Oval, it’ll only come in sideways anyway.
That’s why Benji’s decision to drop Galvin this week was the right call. At last, the Tigers have made a statement. They’re saying that if we’re not good enough for you, you’re not good enough for us.
Senior players like Api Koroisau and Jarome Luai are on board with Galvin’s demotion, and so they should be. These are guys who jogged victory laps, then moved on to see if they could build something somewhere else. That’s how life works. Always seek new challenges. Never stop striving.
Lachie Galvin should be relishing the challenge of helping lift the Tigers from the spoon to the god damn moon.
But no. If the Tigers were low-balling him, you could understand it. But they’re not. Big bucks are on the table.
Galvin is doubtless a delightful young man. And again, it’s possible that he’s just being appallingly advised. But from the sidelines, the unshakeable impression is that he just doesn’t get it.
He doesn’t get that the greatest satisfaction in life comes not from money or trophies or accolades or any of that bullshit, but from building something, watching it grow, and from reaping the rewards in due time.
