Phil Gould remains the most difficult man to impugn in rugby league despite having more enemies than Neighbours villain Paul Robinson.
In fact, he could’ve sacked Lou Carpenter for looking “tired” before burning down Lassiter’s and nobody on Ramsay Street would’ve noticed the difference.
It’s been more classic Gus in recent weeks with the Bulldogs supremo fomenting an upheaval at Canterbury that’s been as unnecessary as it is bananas.
Beginning with his Machiavellian ploy of luring Lachie Galvin despite having “never met him”, the Dogs general manager further poisoned the club’s revival by releasing Reed Mahoney and Toby Sexton despite his tiptoey assertions he wouldn’t.
Previously flying in the top two, Canterbury’s form has dipped in unison as miffed players contend with this unplanned change and the jammy “everyone gets a go” spine combinations that have come with it.
But despite upsetting the Bulldogs newfound chemistry with a series of moves nobody asked for, Gould remains as squeaky clean as John Ibrahim.
For those new to the ways of Gus, he denies his role in any fiasco with a brazen confidence akin to Lee Harvey Oswald protesting his innocence from a library window while holding a smoking gun.
And even with a growing number of detractors emerging to condemn his behaviour – and a range of his own historical quotes helping with this too – catching him out is still like pinning a skeeter with a pool cue.
And that’s why we should give up.
Put simply, there is no point crusading against Phillip Ronald Gould nor engaging him in a narrative battle, and not just because his initials literally are PR.
Lachlan Galvin celebrates a try. (Photo by Darrian Traynor/Getty Images)
Let’s be fair dinkum – yanking the park brake on Canterbury’s premiership charge at the worst possible time is just another tiny pickle in Gus’s vast history of bunfights.
His fingerprints appear on so many atrocious decisions, statisticians predict by 2045 that one in every four Australians will have been sacked by Gus.
Considering a club like Canterbury – one which he shares deep ties and a celebrated history – why wouldn’t he gut it for sport too?
Headhunted to reform its festering brand, the beating drums on Belmore Street that marked Gould’s honeymoon period at the Doggies have since been silenced by his new club mantra of ‘bought not bred until your season is dead.’
Remember when the biggest headache facing Dogs fans was securing the tickets and tyres required to ignite a looming September with their trademark colour and acrid WRX burnout smoke?
Now they’re too busy fighting the cognitive dissonance of a saviour who just shipped off half the spine that lead their side out of the wilderness.
But who cares what Bulldogs fans think anyway? After all, they don’t have a podcast.
Yep, Gould’s not only superhumanly self-assured, he’s also got enough media platforms to brainwash the planet in ultra-stereo.
Purifying himself from controversy by wordily absolving himself of all charges, the Doggies boss can push his post-truth agenda across TV and podcasts with the help of non-confrontational nice guys like Mat Thompson and James Bracey feeding him laundry-soft Dorothy Dixers.
Once he slips Michael Chammas and lets the dust blow over on the bi-annual hit piece from Buzz Rothfield, there’s barely a nasty word said about him- or at least no media bandwidth leftover for one anyway.
Yes, Gould is an imperious powerbroker who fights personal beefs through his squad list – and not only should he remain blameless, we should actually be celebrating his craft.
Where else could someone persistently scorn the NRL for its irresponsible business practices after cutting adrift a coach who’d go on to win four straight comps?
With Gould still attracting administrator jobs and a prolific wage as an ‘expert’ despite Ivan Cleary returning to Penrith to win bulk trophies the nanosecond he left the club, his legacy already burns bright.
If you want respect and integrity in this game, you better spark a few stinks and mince your words – preferably live in prime time.
