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BENJI Marshall's wife, Zoe, has a column in The Sunday Telegraph which I am reliably informed is one of the most read in the newspaper.
She, like Marshall himself, has made the very best use of her new last name to catapult her to a status that the pair of them could only have dared to imagine three or four years ago.
Her husband, Benji, probably thought this time last year, or even last February, that his name was bigger than rugby league itself. He had the league world in his hands — fat club contract, Kiwi megastar and all signs that it would go on and on for years.
Today, Marshall is a shadow of his former self, a fading star who believes he should be handed special treatment because he is, simply, Benji.
He has spent the season playing badly, behaving poorly and shopping himself around, through dubious management, to suitors from league and union.
Placing himself above the game that made him famous, Marshall even concocted a genius plan to have himself photographed in his new Auckland Blues rugby jersey, just to rub those league people's noses in it.
The Wests Tigers story this year is a woeful one. Under a new coach, it is apparent that the player group is split in tiny pieces.
The much-trumpeted pre-season purchase of Braith Anasta has backfired and the team is playing like they have absolutely no respect for Michael Potter (who, by the way, seems a thoroughly decent bloke).
Marshall is front and centre of the team's troubles. He was benched earlier in the year for ill discipline but we didn't know for weeks that he had behaved badly.
Poor form was the reason given to the media — a thoroughly believable excuse at the time because Benji was playing terrible footy.
The saga of his future has stretched on for months, creating dissent in the team and over-riding any attempt by Potter to create a sense of harmony in his new charges.
As his 200th game approaches, fans and supporters bellowed loudly that Benji deserved his day in the sun. Let him have his day of glory, they said, even though he has done absolutely nothing to earn it in recent months.
Marshall obviously has no respect for the game that made him famous. Unlike the heroes who have gone before him, Marshall (in a similar vein to Sonny Bill Williams last year) has tried to turn rugby league into a game that revolves solely around him.
The problem for Benji is that, unlike SBW, he has no form on the board to back up the ego.
He appears to be unfit and apparently has no respect for the Tigers jersey. Even worse, he looks and talks like a rapper when asked about his future.
Essendon legend and now discredited coach, James Hird, is similar to Marshall. The star players of the so-called modern era are told they are bullet proof, they are more important than their lesser paid teammates and that they deserve superstar status.
Time and time again, these guys (Anthony Mundine, the AFL's Brendan Fevola, Hird, Todd Carney, Marshall, SBW) allow the managers and the apologists to lull them into a sense of superiority. Those on the team bus pad them with cotton wool and excuse their poor manners.
Invariably they come a huge cropper, but that doesn't stop the next one trying it all on again.
So far this season, the media has put Marshall on the back page at least a dozen more times than he deserved. While really good, honest players like John Sutton and Josh Reynolds play their hearts out every week for their mates, players like Marshall grab headlines and blame others for their plight.
Frankly, I will be glad to see the back of Marshall. His rapid demise in league ranks may flag to others of the same bent that nobody is going to put themselves above the game and get away with it.
Rugby union is welcome to him, where he will struggle to come to grips with the extremely complicated positional play required of a rugby half. He is no Israel Folau, but that is for the Auckland Blues to find out.
As for the poor old Wests Tigers, they don't know it yet but they are better off, too. Potter may take a season to rebuild this lot, but he deserves a chance without the badness that has pervaded the joint for more than a season.
Not many of you will remember the great Ron Coote, but even now when I see the former great, his upright posture, his pride and his downright decency fill me with a great sense of happiness.
Perhaps Benji might like to spend a few hours with a man who is a genuine legend.
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