When a try is not a try and other unanswered NRL questions
“That’s not a try,” said Phil Gould. “That’s not a try,” said Andrew Johns. “That is definitely not a try,” said Brad Fittler. On the rival broadcaster and outward through the greater TV-watching public of Australia, the consensus was the same: thatwas not a try.
But it was a try. In 2018, in this brave new age of video referees and on-field judges asked to make their best guess, Nene Macdonald scored a legitimate try. It might not have looked like it on first and subsequent viewings. But, if you slow down the
vision and press play-pause quickly often enough, you’ll find that Macdonald did not lose possession of the ball before he planted it across the try-line.
Chances are you believe otherwise. Most everyone does. Even referees’ boss, Bernard Sutton, declared that McDonald dropped the ball. Or at least lost control of it. And thus had to regain it. And did not.
The problem comes down to interpretation of control, of possession. They say it is nine-tenths of the law. And if you’re in possession of the ball, it means you have control of it. It is yours. Your baby. You own that hamburger. And Nene Macdonald did not drop the ball because he always had possession of it.
Consider: the ball never physically separated from Macdonald’s fingers before he grounded it. So how could there be a knock-on? How could be there a knock-on without it hitting the ground or anything else? If the dimples of the Steeden never detached themselves from McDonald’s right palm, fingers and fingertips – and they did not – how can he have dropped the ball?
See it: It’s the 69th minute of a typically compelling, physical Anzac Day fixture and the rangy Dragons wing man Macdonald leaps into the corner to slam down what seems a certain four-pointer. But hark! From the clouds comes Cooper Cronk, the super-competitive nuggety Roosters halfback who throws himself horizontally at the big Dragon. He’s airborne. He’s a man-missile. He’s George Gregan on Jeff Wilson in ‘94.
Cronk’s right hand connects with Macdonald’s elbow and Macdonald’s arm buckles slightly. The ball pivots, some, and looks like it has comes loose. “The ball comes free,” states Greg Alexander, and there is no argument from his colleagues.
Now, in another time, another place, without the benefit of video referees to clear up any doubt (ha), Ashley Klein may have looked at both touch judges, pointed to the spot with a karate-chop hand motion, and put the whistle to his lips. Or he may have ruled a knockon. Either way, he’d have largely made his best guess.
Today, Klein is still required to make a best guess but he can abrogate responsibility to a third party watching on high-definition screens. There is always that option and of course Klein takes it.
Up to bunker we go. And we wait and watch. And watch and wait again. And we see: the ball spilling into the in-goal and squirting away dead after Macdonald’s fingers forced the ball on the turf. We see Cronk’s tackle again and again. And again. And again. All angles. Johns and Gould are in agreement. “He’s lost it from every angle,” declares Voss on the Fox. Alexander isn’t as sure. Nor is Mick Ennis. He’s also glad it’s not him making the call.
And so Luke Patten calls it a try and. everyone loses their mind.
Surely it was conclusive: Macdonald dropped it! Fox Sports’ match report declared: “Macdonald clearly lost control of the ball in the scoring motion and it came out of his hands before being planted in the in-goal.”
The next day, referees’ boss Sutton, perhaps looking to stymie critique by the greater claque of chatterboxes who might further undermine the NRL’s billion-dollar baby – it’s time to #TalkTheGameUp, after all – issued a Peter Beattieesque mea culpa. He threw Patten under the bus, explaining why the bunker got it wrong.
“It can be seen that the ball rotates which indicates that possession has been lost,” said Sutton. “From this point Nene Macdonald is required to catch, hold, and re-grip the ball before the ball comes in contact with the ground in order to score a try. As Nene was unable to secure possession, the correct ruling should have been knock-on.”
Now, Bernard Sutton has refereed 43 more NRL games than me. So, respectfully, Mr Sutton, but what? Possession was lost because the ball “rotated”? Is that a rule? That the ball can’t rotate else it’s a knockon? Since when do referees interpret rotation as a factor in a player dropping the ball? This isn’t modern dance. And the fact of the matter in this instance, m’lud, is that the ball, while jolted, certainly, did not ever leave Macdonald’s grasp. He did not lose it. He did not lose control of it.
So comes the philosophical question: where does control end? Sutton’s argument is that Macdonald lost control as soon as Cronk’s arm jolted the ball in his grasp and caused it to rotate. Sutton’s contention is that Macdonald then had to “regather” the ball and thus regain control.
And there’s the rub. Did control end as soon as Cronk whacked McDonald’s arm and caused the ball “rotate”? Sutton says yes. But the ball never left Macdonald’s hand. The two physical entities – Macdonald’s mitt and the well-dimpled Steeden – were never apart. How could he drop something he was still physically connected to? How could he lose possession of something he still possessed?