In defence of Jarome Luai

He's done it again.

In 2022 he's put more and more people off-side every time he opens his mouth – and at times he doesn't even have to.

He's been branded arrogant and out of touch, told he has ‘the most inflated ego' and labelled many unprintable things in the dark corners of social media, while his most loyal fans seem determined to support him no matter what. He also uses the n-word too much.

Surprisingly, we're not talking about Kanye West.

Penrith Panthers five-eighth Jarome Luai has again become the focus of unwanted attention - again - dragged through the coals because of some poor choices of words during a disastrous best-man speech at the wedding of teammate Brian To'o.

DOWNLOAD NOW FOR FREE!

As well as a number of vulgar and absolutely unnecessary jokes about the groom, Luai has drawn criticism for using a racial term for the second time in less than two months – although he remains unlikely to be punished.

As we all know, this isn't the first thing Luai has done to upset the contempt-hungry NRL public in 2022.

There were the ‘call us daddy' comments after the grand final win – comments that seemed to stoke more fury from media pundits and fans than the actual opponent they were made toward.

There was the alleged kick on Isaiah Papali'i during the grand final that everyone was happy to get riled up about and believe the worst – until a different angle proved the allegation to be wildly incorrect.

Few Parra fans (and Ryan Matterson) going to have a really hard time watching this pic.twitter.com/GdLo6JbhAc

— Foot of Edwards (@angusbacon21) October 6, 2022

There was the way he stood over a heavily-concussed Selwyn Cobbo during a heated Origin contest, and the refusal to apologise that came in the aftermath with his detractors braying for it. That one's a little harder to defend but would likely have been dismissed as 'Origin intensity' were it someone else.

None of it has been what people would call 'a good look' - but it's clear that despite everything he's achieved – including back-to-back premierships, State of Origin selection and a World Cup final appearance with Samoa – Luai stands firmly in the pantheon of NRL villains.

But is this simply a case of one man who can't seem to make the right move? Or is there more to it?

The NRL scale of villainy

It's worth noting at this point that offence is often subjective (not always, but often), and Luai's actually done little that's truly inappropriate considering the volume of contempt regularly thrown his way.

He's never done anything violent or misogynistic, he's never been arrested – for domestic violence, assault, drugs or any of the other mishaps that seem to befall NRL players on a semi-regular basis.

In reality, the worst thing he's done is get under people's skin with arrogance and ego, and backed it up with success on the field.

What a b*stard.

He got drunk and gave a terrible speech at a semi-private function – it's better than getting drunk and going on a terrifying New York rampage threatening to kill people, getting drunk and violently assaulting his partner or someone else, getting drunk and getting behind the wheel, stabbing a church leader or any other number of incidents that have happened to other players who enjoy a level of freedom from scrutiny that Luai just can't seem to secure.

In April last year he was widely supported after receiving racist abuse online – but while the league rallied around Latrell Mitchell after he experienced similar, public support of Luai dried up pretty quickly.

Admittedly, he hasn't been helping it. He's made a number of bad decisions and done some regrettable things - but compared to the miles-long list of reprehensible acts committed by professional athletes both in the NRL and the wider sporting community, he's in pretty good nick.

Could he do with some guidance? Almost definitely.

But we've been willing to give other players much more room to err in the past.

Choice of words

It's strange to hear people calling for the NRL to act on Luai's repeated use of a controversial and racially-loaded term.

We all understand (some more than others) the historical implication of the word, but in both instances, it was clearly being used as a term of endearment.

Yes, he could save everyone including himself a mountain of stress by just not using it – but we've reached a point now in society where surely we can at least acknowledge that the word is sometimes used in such a way.

What's most weird about it is that the majority of people calling for him to be punished are old or middle-aged and white men. The key demographic of the likes of Paul Kent and Ray Hadley.

The same people who got their way when they called for Indigenous NRLW player Caitlin Moran to be suspended when she made a personal post about the death of the Queen – another time when the aforementioned pundits weaponised their legions of easily-outraged fans.

The Moran issue creates another double standard. Why was she held to account over something mildly-controversial, said on her own private social media platform, when Luai has escaped sanction twice?

That's not Luai's fault. Nor is it Moran's. That's an issue the integrity unit has created for itself by allowing the media to rapidly build outrage and compel it to act when it didn't have to.

It's nice to see that they've learned from the past, but what does that tell Moran and NRLW players about their own standing in the game?

Both players made a somewhat-regrettable social media post. Both deleted it. But only Moran was suspended and required to undertake measures.

But that's another issue for another time.

Yes, it's true that no one should be naïve enough to ignore the weight and significance such terms still carry – but by the same token, no one should be naïve enough to believe that the employment of the term in Pasifika communities is malicious or racist.

We could speak on the kind of joint-evolution of elements of Pasifika and African-American culture in western Sydney, but this isn't the place.

In the end, despite the online debate and outrage, I'm pretty sure if someone just had a quiet chat to Jarome and asked him to stop using the term, at least publicly and on social media, he would.

But God forbid we try the rational approach.

Times are a-changing

There was a time where the rugby league ‘larrikin' personality was iconic. Where terrible, possibly offensive banter was laughed off as good fun, and apocalyptic intoxication was the stuff of legend.

A quick search on Google for 'great rugby league larrikins' brings you names like Tommy Raudonikis, Johnny Raper and Paul Green - all players who were successful and lived their lives with a similar zeal to Luai.

A larrikin is, by definition, someone who 'defies convention', skirts political correctness, or however you'd like to frame it.

The likes of Brad Fittler and Andrew Johns, two successful players of a bygone era, can get away with some terribly immature behaviour during commentary under the same pretense of being larrikins and it doesn't affect their standing at all.

So what made those 'legends' different to Luai in the court of public opinion?

It has to be the generation gap and modern society, because otherwise there's only one obvious difference and it'd be a damning indictment to believe it true.

If Jarome Luai had made his best-man speech in the 1980s it would have been treated in a vastly different way – but that also means the event wouldn't have been streamed online and distributed to everyone with a single click.

Back in that era players could say blatantly sexist stuff in front of an official press conference and have it met with raucous laughter instead of a fortnight of Fox League panel shows dedicated to the fallout.

LANGUAGE WARNING.

There's likely a cross-section of people out there who think the above video is hilarious, while still believing Luai is an arrogant and immature villain. How anyone can reconcile those two thoughts without a hint of irony is beyond me.

With greater exposure and access comes greater scrutiny, that's to be expected. While social media gives players a chance to control the narrative surrounding themselves, few are actually thinking consciously about it when they put a post up, unlike some corners of the media who trawl social media accounts looking for something to write about free of context.

They're young people who want to utilise these social practises the same way their peers do, often without considering their elevated status in society. That's certainly on them to an extent.

In the old days the journalists would be in the sheds drinking beers and forming relationships with the players, not sitting in the studio, questioning the mentality of a new generation and leaping on social media content.

Some may have taken too many blows to the head and beers in the sheds afterwards to remember that they were once young rugby league stars as well, who – god forbid – might have also been a little bit insufferable, maybe even arrogant, but were lucky to live in an era where their every move wasn't scrutinised by media outlets struggling for content.

We crave more insights into the lives and lifestyles of players, but are so easily outraged when those insights don't conform to our expectations that it's a wonder players decide to share anything about themselves at all.

We lament the absence of characters and softening of standards in our game while simultaneously chastising those who dare to form a personality outside of our limited expectations.

In 2022 veteran pundits will jump at the opportunity to chastise a young player for a controversial social media post, while at the same time tiptoeing around the issue as a former legend is arrested and convicted of child pornography charges. That. Actually. Happened.

Some people will still see Brett Finch as more of a 'legend' than Luai will ever be - happy to preserve their image of Luai based on his off-field antics while also preserving their image of Finch due to his on-field antics.

It's this selective mentality that's a far bigger problem for the game than a 25-year-old getting drunk and making an ass out of himself at his best mate's wedding.

If Jarome Luai was the worst person in rugby league, the game would be in a pretty good place - but most of them aren't even on the field.