Changes in the dressing rooms leave me cold

AS SOMEONE of the same age as Wayne Bennett – at 68 the oldest coach in the game – I’m almost three generations distant from current-day NRL players, so I concede I’m old.

But, I still consider some traditions in our great game sacrosanct – and they should be inflexible.

One of those customs is the sanctity of the dressing room.

While never a sacred place, the area where players change in preparation for battle, and either celebrate or deliberate afterwards, should belong exclusively to them and their coaching staff. In their own private time before and after a game the combatants should be allowed to conduct themselves in a manner they chose, and react exactly how they want – within reason.

In “the good old days” if a player wanted to prance or pray before a game, he could. If he wanted to adjust his undies, he could. If, after a loss, a player felt the need to kick a chair, he could.

He was, after all, in a private place with his teammates, who were aware of his idiosyncrasies.

But not anymore. Rather than a secluded haven, the change room – in the NRL anyway – has become as public as Bondi Beach.

I get it that TV pays a fortune to cover the game, and that no longer is the 80 minutes of onfield action the sole drawcard.

And I understand that a peek inside the change room, to give the viewers some awareness of big-match preparation, is part of that wider coverage.

But where does it stop? Do we really need to see Brad Fittler blowing a fuse during his half-time address, or Kevin Walters berating a player who stuffed up?

Is a prying lens in the change rooms not akin to a camera spying on us in our workplace. And linked to social media for anyone to view, is that not a similar invasion of privacy?

Okay, I go along with the prematch dressing room interviews with the coaches, particularly at State of Origin time.

That can be insightful, especially to those viewers who are not rusted-on NRL supporters.

And, as adept media commentators themselves, Fittler and Walters are reasonably relaxed and informative.

But please, can we leave it there.

Another bugbear of mine is the presence – on the field and in the dressing room – of children, some as young as babes in arms.

At game’s end they are handed over the fence to the players as if they are a parcel.

What is that all about? Why, suddenly, has this become the norm rather than the exception?

After Origin II the first I saw of a Queenslander at game’s end – and not his best game, I might add – was when he walked into the dressing room with his young child in his arms. A wonderful, loving dad he may be, but surely a football change room is no place for an infant.

And this old bloke reckons most coaches feel exactly as I do.