The Rise and Fall of Danny Exotic
The Rise and Fall of Danny Exotic
by Danny Exotic
Dear my beloved Punters and Dribblers,
I write to you all, with a heavy heart. A heart that is ordinarily pumping the sweet properties of merlot and redbulls throughout my cardiovascular system, but now pumping nothing but fragmented dreams and melancholia.
After casting my ears over a recent dribble, or as I’d like to call, a piece of audible detritus, from my sworn enemy and former childhood neighbour, Dot Point Dribbler, and then to be subjected to slander from both Tom and Eddy for my lack of content since my famous bender prior to Penriths Grand Final loss last season which saw me earn the illustrious baggy green, I feel obliged to address not only the punter, but more importantly the dribbler.
It’s well documented my rise to fame and dribbler immortality last year. On the back of Penrith’s record-breaking winning streak, yours truly found himself in a frequent state of pure elation and euphoria. As the wins came in, so did the festivities.
Life was good, every weekend was almost like a Hollywood movie script. A Nathan Cleary masterclass – steering Penrith to another victory, followed by the weekly expedition to my beloved Big Cat (Penrith Panthers Leagues Club) where me and my fellow Penrith fans would endeavour into the 4-12hr pulverisation of our mind, body and spirit, courtesy of our good friends R&R.
The plethora of regular-season wins inevitably led to the Minor Premiership and a box seat in the 2020 finals series, in a month that can only be rivalled by that of the great Ben Cousins, myself and all of Penrith were whipped into an absolute frenzy.
With a nail-biting preliminary final victory over South’s, it quickly became a reality. Penrith were ready to seize the premiership, a feat that hadn’t been achieved since I was only a young bloke, spear tackling Dot Point Dribbler on his front lawn in Glenmore Park in 2003. It was a momentous occasion, and that called for a monumental celebration, so I brought to you, the Punter AND the Dribbler – The Big Dance Luncheon.
A 6hr session of sending Vodka Cruisers on a one-way ticket to our throats, hours of YouTube highlights, heavily featuring Scott Sattler’s famous tackle on a dilly-daddling Todd Byrne and of course some TV Dinners.
Now as we all know, that traumatic night didn’t quite go Penriths way, DYOR had my measure, and I was broken, PROUD, but broken. But that didn’t stop me and my companions from embarking on what quickly became, the greatest bender of all time. 48hrs in, the reality sunk in. Keeping the Disciples of St PVL updated with the atrocities that were unfolding at the foot of the mountain, I found myself becoming heckled and the subject of abuse by dribblers like Nilso, Ironside and Finnochario. The old saying – never kick a dribbler while he’s down, had apparently been forgotten.
Fast forward…
HSP #238 – Under The Pump, all the pieces of the puzzle connected. I earnt my baggy green. What initially appeared to be a sympathy vote, for a broken dribbler who’d had his heart ripped from his chest by a relentless Storm outfit, quickly became a realisation, a realisation that I was the inspiration that led Eddy to drop to a knee and propose to his fiancé, I was the reason Tom felt obliged to provide Evie-Rose with a sibling, I was the reason KTD slotted a plethora of steedens through the sticks, the reason Nilso set a deposit limit on his BlueBet account and the reason DYOR ripped that cone to render his legs useless.
A Ton on debut with my Matty Nabes – Season Launch was a last-ditch effort to build back my legacy. A legacy forged by R&R. Then came lockdown, COVID reared its ugly head and precluded my chances of continuing the great legacy I built the year prior.
I now find myself sober, hooked up to an IV drip containing Doctor V’s bender mender. But it’s not the Siberian rush I’m after, no. I’m after the rush that can only be provided by two commodities. More precious than that of gold and diamonds, the rush that can only be provided by R&R.
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