Why, in Rugby League parlance, is Cinderella the only fictional story metaphor likened to the unexpected succession of victories?
Moreso, when you consider that the similarities between the two are very few.
Let’s look at this whole Cinderella euphemism.
It’s a story about an orphaned girl living with her step-mother and three ugly step-sisters, all of whom want to attend a party hosted by the token village Prince.
Cinderella desperately wants to join everyone else at the ball, but her step-mother has given her a long list of chores to do, which would prevent her from participating at the dance.
In some weird circumstance which defies realism, but not recreational party-drug use, a fairy-godmother appears and assists Cinderella in a hasty preparation for the ball. Why this fairy didn’t appear earlier and help Cinderella sooner in her miserable life is somewhat dubious, but I digress.
Cinderella ends up riding in a carriage which was previously a pumpkin, obviously the drugs hadn’t lost their effect yet, to the party, dances with the Prince, he is taken aback by her beauty, but before he gets to make his move on her, Cinderella remembers she has to disappear before midnight, as all the work the fairy godmother did will come undone, so she speedily exits the party. However, in her haste, she loses one of her glass slippers, which it must be said, is not very practical footwear for dancing.
The Prince, madly in love after a night’s dancing, sets about finding the owner of the aforementioned glass shoe. He travels to every house in the Kingdom and tries it on every woman’s foot until finally he finds Cinderella and it fits her foot. Another odd practice considering the probability of only one person in an entire kingdom to have a different sized foot to everyone else is practically impossible.
They eventually get married and live happily ever after.
How that is similar to rugby league is baffling. There’s no tries, no nail-biting victories, no extra-time, no heroic performances or men playing through injury and adversity.
Furthermore, Rugby Leaue has:
No step mother or ugly step sisters.
No fairy godmother.
No pumpkin coach (excluding Matt Elliott).
No glass shoes.
No smitten Prince who gets love drunk after a dance.
No kingdom-wide shoe-fitting exhibition.
Even a link between the premise of both is excessively flimsy. A love story compared to a series of unexpected successes in Rugby League against seemingly better opposition.
However, the search for a more relevant fable to link to rugby league proved to be quite irksome.
Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs – Seven men sharing a house with an attractive young female, Rugby League could do without this.
The Lion King – African animals. Don’t think so.
Aladdin – A thief who falls in love with a Princess. There’s also a genie and a flying carpet. Sounds more like something from Fast Forward than a rugby league metaphor.
Pinocchio – A wooden puppet that comes to life. When Wayne Bennett starts making jokes we can use this one.
Fantasia – If this isn’t the direct result of drug use, it will certainly lead to it. Same goes for Peter Pan and Alice in Wonderland.
Dumbo – An elephant with massive ears.
Lady and the Tramp – Two dogs on heat. Not a topic to be considered for rugby league. Besides, the Bulldogs have been through enough.
Hercules – Son of a Greek God, fighting another God to take his place amongst Gods. God damn!
Upon searching other forms of fiction, it becomes clear that fictional stories shouldn’t be used as rugby league metaphors. For example:
Pride and Prejudice – Middle class pommie chicks pining over an upper class pommie bloke. Dancing, romance and a distinct lack of Christian name use.
Frankenstein – A doctor creates a being from bits of dead bodies. Too many themes involving the industrial revolution and playing God.
The Great Gatsby – American.
Death Of A Salesman – A salesman starts talking to himself, then dies.
The DaVinci Code – Anti-catholicism, cryptic crossword puzzle.
The Female Eunuch – Feminism.
The Old Testament – Heaps of really old blokes having massive families and defying their creator.
No matter which way you turn, movies and books all appear to be hopeless metaphors for rugby league. This categorically proves that rugby league transcends all fiction, whether in the form of a TV program, a movie or a book.
And most importantly, exposes commentators as idiots. The fact they manage to have jobs at all is a Cinderella story in itself.