BACK when this correspondent was much younger the Cold War was hot news.
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Apocalyptic war appeared inevitable as the USSR and the USA looked set to duke it out with nuclear weapons. It was a tense time.
And naturally enough many intellectual types and others pondered what the world would be like post nuclear war. Would there be any life at all? If so, who would survive?
Memories of these troubled days came flooding back last week as we pondered an even more dire consequence life after South Sydney winning the premiership.
Please remember that this rubbish was scribbled on Friday morning so obviously we had no idea what the result of the grand final between South Sydney Crowes (as they should be known) and Canterbury Bankstown Berries (as they used to be known) would be. However, at the time we had a sneaking suspicion that Souths would carry the day.
Those who follow such things would be fully aware that South Sydney hadn't won anything of consequence since 1971. In fact the club hadn't even appeared in a grand final since that year.
Now keen students of history would understand that the world was a different place in 1971. Back then we had a bumbling, incompetent Liberal prime minister. There was a stench of corruption about the incumbent State government. People around here complained about their roads in general and council in particular. We were side stepping our way through primary school at St Joseph's and as such constantly wrote nasty things about our teachers, the Sisters of St Joseph. The more things change etc etc.
But Souths were kings of the league with a team full of superstars in those pre-salary cap days. They'd been just about unbeatable since 1967 (save for a hiccup in 1969) and as such many of the bandwagon jumping youth of our generation jumped on the South Sydney bandwagon. Go to the junior footy on Saturday mornings in that era (as we did) and just about every second kid would be wearing a South Sydney jumper.
We'd wear a Roosters jumper. And they'd laugh. For the early 70s wasn't a particularly halcyon time for the Roosters or their followers.
However the ensuing years haven't been particularly kind to the South Sydney brethren. And we've loved it. We've enjoyed some of our finest moments mocking South Sydney and their followers. Some of our closest drinking companions follow Souths and it was always great sport to watch them squirm whenever they had to endure another heavy defeat. And there were always plenty.
But they were always hardy, optimistic types. The occasional semi-final appearance would fortify them.
"This is our year,'' they'd say.
"Up the mighty Bunnies.''
Then Manly, Canterbury or Parramatta would put 40 points on them somewhere in the finals series and the dream would be over for another 12 months.
But all has changed in the last few years. A smart coach, tough forwards, clever backs and some Hollywood cash has transformed Souths from a joke to the real deal.
So we may have to consider life post a South Sydney premiership. We'll have to put up with beaming South Sydney supporters wearing their red and green shirts and saying things like 'the mighty Bunnies,' or 'Rabbitohs forever.'
Things just won't be the same.
Oh well, there's always next season, we suppose.