How hardship made this mob stronger

Tough times ... Mariners players have battled through thick and thin. Source: Peter Clark / News Limited

John Hutchinson is staring at a burned out car.

The charred wreckage, of exactly what model nobody can tell, sitting smack bang in the middle of this paddock where he and the rest of his Mariners are supposed to train.

Still in only their first year, the players are already used to working out without physios. Without GPS tracking. Without goalposts.

"But standing there wondering how we were going to train around that car," Hutchinson says seven years on, "you had to laugh or this was never going to work."

Sitting now with The Daily Telegraph on a bench overlooking Terrigal beach, Hutchinson is letting you in on the real fairytale fuelling Sunday's A-League grand final.

Sure, on the dark side of the Hawkesbury it's all about the Western Sydney Wanderers. Everyone consumed by 13 straight wins, a Premier's Plate and that mob of supporters looking, sounding, moving like an old North Sydney Bears Mad Monday.

But if you want a true underdog yarn, then come speak with this mob whose goalie, Mat Ryan, still lives in a caravan.

A club where volunteers come in daily to make the team lunches.

A joint where only a few months back, when the battling club was unable to pay players their monthly installment, head coach Graham Arnold lent players money from his own kick for mortgages, grocery bills, whatever.

Asked about said dark period back in March, Hutchinson says: "I'm not gunna sit here, lie to you and say it wasn't tough.

"When that money never arrived, some guys here really struggled. Some needed money from the FFA hardship fund to get through. There were also certain players and coaches who offered money from their own pockets to those who needed it.

"But that's what a family does. If someone is struggling you stick tight and put your hand out and help."

Call it a mantra now embedded in every yellow jersey.

A creed owned by footballers who, to help win hearts and minds, aren't only seen more often at local school fetes than the chocolate wheel, but must continually adhere to a secretive "No Dickheads" policy enforced from within the playing group.

"People are always saying how this club's got the smallest budget, the smallest catchment area, blah, blah, blah," laughs Mariners striker Daniel McBreen. 

"Yet this will be our fourth grand final in eight years."

Elsewhere, defender Joshua Rose speaks of unity while keeper Ryan talks of a team that meets for breakfast, lunch, even a surf most days.

"There's nothing can affect this team," Ryan insists. "Camaraderie is the reason for our success and why the whole financial thing was just a hiccup. Whatever comes up we deal with it as a unit."

Indeed, this is the way it's always been.

Something of an edict started by Lawrie McKinna, the inaugural Mariners coach who, as part of a radio competition, not only held a barbecue for the winners but did it at his home.

A Scottish immigrant who became so popular around these parts that he's now the mayor. It's a similar story with Hutchinson, who has not only endured the heartache of three grand final losses but the humour of, three years in, still watching Socceroos John Alosi and Tony Vidmar training on fields without goalposts.

Some days it was a high school oval. Others, a paddock where the centrepiece might again be a burned out car.

"Which is why it's important no one here forgets where we came from," Hutchinson says.

"It's why when new players arrive, we tell them about our history, remind them not to abuse the privileges we now enjoy.

"I mean, there probably isn't a footballer anywhere else in the country who appreciates their physio being full-time.

"But here, yeah, we do."
 

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