BY DAN

As the ball was hurled out the back to Nathan Cleary I couldn’t help but feel frustrated.

It wasn’t fair. The Raiders were actually better. Not lucky. Not revving harder than their opposition. They were superior in every facet, and here they were, unable to land the punch. The result would give the naysayers the proof they need to say Canberra were frauds, that our hopes and dreams for 2025 were just smoke and mirrors. That all the improvement we’d sworn we’d seen still saw the titans of the league looking down at us.

It was only golden point because Jamal Fogarty uncharacteristically missed a conversion he’d normally comfortably make (and some field goals), a chance he got because the Raiders scored some gorgeous second half tries with beautifully executed and structured movements. That in itself was also uncharacteristic for the Raiders before 2025, but was becoming more and more normalised, getting used to it like commercials telling us that our potatoes now had AI in them or something.

And then the ball hit the upright. Nathan Cleary has hit field goals from harder positions in more leveraged situations. He’s found ways to win tougher games, executing like an automaton who has no programming but winning rugby league matches. So when that most magical doink arrived and the ball sailed outwards, you could forgive a man for breathing not just a sigh of relief, but wanting everyone to calm the hell down.

But the Canberra Raiders did not do that. They did not go gently into Dylan Thomas’ dad’s good night. They raged like a motherflipper. First Jed Stuart (or le potato as I thought the French commentary was calling him, instead of le poteau for the woodwork) jumped to catch the ball that had bounced as high as our heart rates. He was left to land by Penrith players seemingly unaware of the rule about tackling in the air (understandably). Then he flipped to Ethan Strange.

At this point if you’re like me you were probably thinking something like “get deep and get down and let’s get to a field goal”. But that’s why I’m here and Ethan Strange is a transformer masquerading as a human with a penchant for rugby league. He put on a step, a fend, and all of a sudden he was burning down the field like he’d been infected with the rage virus. It looked like he’d go all the way, but he instead decided to throw the ball to the cheetah emerging on his inside. Kaeo Weekes did the rest, with a little attention from desperate defenders. The Raiders scored, won the game, and cemented who they were (at least in our eyes).

This was pure exhilaration. Real Class A straight up the sniffer shit. The wave of emotion borne by this earthquake rolled and rumbled through our nervous systems like it was meant to be cleansing. It wasn’t just that they’d won, but that they’d deserved to, proved they were good enough, and taken the chance that was offered. It’s not often that teams get moments like this. That the Raiders get moments like this. But here was one, taken and appreciated. As we said at the time, it’s not so much the moment, but what you do with it.

It paired well with the One Good Play from earlier in the season. Lucky yes, but also reflective of a team with athleticism and talent to burn, capability and temerity in equal measures. Yes, in the moment the doink of the upright was fortune smiling at them, but what followed was execution and brilliance. Ethan Strange and Kaeo Weekes had proven themselves match winners before this moment, but that was now enshrined in a highlight that will become part of Canberra and rugby league vernacular for years to come.

A peep behind the curtains. Usually as soon as a game ends I want to write. To process my thoughts, get them out of the pong game that is my mind so I can get on with my day, or rest. I joke that sometimes it’s therapeutic and allows me to be more normal the rest of the weekend. Being a functional adult is important when there’s two small boys tearing up your house. But after this game I couldn’t write. I had to talk and stand and pour a drink and talk and ramble and then eventually when I sat down I didn’t know where to start. Eventually it came – you can see the game review here – but it took time and a strong debrief with a glass of brown liquor.

And what was hard to capture was that this moment wasn’t just about a team winning. It wasn’t just about a game that was decided in the most unlikely fashion. It wasn’t about arguing if victory was deserved, or not, or more Raiders bullshit that the people in NRL HQ want you to believe is some hocus pocus rather than the DNA of a city and a community. But it was proof. Proof that 2025 was something, but more than that. This game was proof for 2026. For 2027. For 2028. A light shining on us all, speaking to us from the mountain top. They, us, we, are worthy. Capable of anything.

It may end up being nothing. That’s how 2025 ended. Heartbreak, whisky, and Racing Mount Pleasant reminding us that it’s the pain that makes us human. It’s the memories that make us smile, and the hope that keeps us striding. But for less than a minute we got to see what life could be like if the Raiders find a salve for 30 plus years of wounds that will never heal. In one shining moment they showed us what could bring us together, covered in the tears and blood and sweat the decades have given us. That maybe, one day, one Sunday evening in October, it would be us with happy tears on the concourse of Homebush. In a brief moment Jed Stuart, Ethan Strange and Kaeo Weekes gave us the feeling that was possible.

And that’s why it was the best moment of the year.

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