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An interesting insight into one of the Worlds greatest team sport Coaches.
It would seem he had some issues last week, I found this article on the front page of the Bronco's website!
Bennett: My Only Regret is Giving Fans the Silent Treatment
by Wayne Bennett
Saturday May 26, 2007
Source: The Australian
WHEN I got into coaching we never had press conferences. In fact what you'd have in the change rooms after a game was a journalist who you might or might not give a one-on-one.
Over the years it has become a formality where we go to a room with a number of people from various media organisations.
One day when I decided I didn't want to go to a press conference the NRL changed the rules and made it compulsory for coaches to attend. If you didn't attend they slapped you with a $10,000 fine.
As of today they still haven't made it compulsory for coaches to talk at these conferences.
What has changed -- and I realise I have to change too -- is they are not simply press conferences any more and it's not just a bunch of journos sitting there. Because the fan at home is now in the room, watching on live television.
I have three priorities as a coach, and always have: first the club; second the player, and sometimes I put the player in front of the club; and my next priority is the fan. And then there's daylight.
I haven't watched a lot of Monday Night Football and until this week the Broncos had not been involved in it.
But a few weeks ago I saw the coaches being televised live on a Monday night and I looked at my wife and said I have to find a way to get out of this. I knew I wouldn't be comfortable.
While I do a lot of live TV and am experienced at it, I have never done a television one-on-one after a game, except maybe after a grand final.
They make me feel uncomfortable. It's an emotional time. You are either on a high or a low and there's no in between.
I've always been conscious of not showing elation publicly after a win or depression when we've had a bad day. Why? Because I did not want to be seen gloating or being full of myself in the demise of someone else, as it will be my turn tomorrow. Kipling wrote about it many years ago, about treating triumph and disaster as the very same beast.
So all that's in the back of my mind as I walk into the room on Monday night. I know it's live. I walk in the door -- I have no rights. No one at the League has advised me there's a live camera in there and even if they had I wouldn't have the right to say no. I don't have an option.
I see a solitary camera there and I realise it's an exclusive interview. I have not agreed to it.
From the beginning I immediately go into a very defensive position. Body language and thoughts.
I sit down and see the same faces I see every week and suddenly the TV interviewer produces a notebook and begins his questions from the top of the list. The notebook interview does not normally happen at after-game conferences. It's usually just off the top of the head.
I am saying to myself this is not an interview. This is a Spanish inquisition. I was not thinking about the fans at this stage. I go straight into protection mode -- tell you nothing, take you nowhere. The old need-to-know basis.
I had told the players before the conference how proud I was of them. How inspirational they were. How the football gods weren't with us at the moment.
And, in hindsight, I would have liked to have said that publicly for their sake. I didn't handle the situation well. I let my emotions take over.
If there's any fan out there given the impression -- and I'm sure I did give the impression -- I didn't care about them, well, I'm not like Fonzie, I can say sorry.
That is the only reason I am writing this article. I never intended to misrepresent the fans.
My wife rang me an hour later (she does not ring often after matches) and she talked about the television interview. And those who know me, they sensed where I was at and what I was doing.
I didn't feel good about me and I told her so.
It wasn't not answering his questions -- I have a right not to answer his questions if I don't want to. I've given worse interviews than that.
After the preliminary final last year, when Canterbury led 20-4 at half-time, I could see the headlines. BENNETT GONE. FAILS AGAIN. BRONCOS IN DISARRAY.
I went in afterwards, they said well done but without sincerity. We were into the grand final, but there was never going to be any outward elation.
I've changed many things about myself over time and now I'm preparing to change this.
I don't have to say more, I can still protect the players even at my own expense and I won't be intimidated. But I will always remember the fans are out there watching and they're more important than my own personal feelings at that moment.
* Origin I. Great game. Loved every minute. Both states gave their heart and soul. For a game of football to be like that I didn't feel there was a loser.
There was no more to give.
Over the past three or four years I've heard all the rubbish, certain sections saying Origin doesn't mean as much to current players.
How some people talk a lot of rubbish. It's like all things -- there are highs and lows. Wednesday was up there with anything I've seen or coached.
Well done! Everybody involved should be very proud. They made me proud to be a part of rugby league.
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