I never meant to become a rugby league fan. It just kind of crept up on me. During State of Origin and now, with the finals under way, my inner rugby league fan is in full flight – and you should hear the language.

This is all mainly due to the fact that I married into a rugby league family. My wife Sandra’s late father Ron Mclean was founding chairman of the North Queensland Cowboys and we went to a lot of games in the 1990s after they entered the competition. Which was brutal because they mostly lost in those early years.

So yes, I’m a Cowboys supporter and I’m pretty cranky they didn’t make the finals this year. Of course, it’s all part of a conspiracy and when star player Valentine Holmes was banned by the judiciary for four matches the expletives were certainly flying in our house. Because we was robbed!

Watching footy turns me from a relatively civilized individual in a black skivvy into a raving, potty-mouthed punter wearing a State of Origin beanie.

Luckily, I have several teams to support. There’s the Titans too, (because I spent my teenage years on the Gold Coast) and of course the Broncos. I’m putting all my support behind the Broncos now since they are the only Queensland team in the finals and I reckon they have the right stuff this year. Touch wood.

At Miami State High School, I eschewed team sports but the headmaster, Bill Callinan, was a rugby league diehard and he made me try out for the rugby league team when I was in senior.

My career playing league was short, lasting exactly one game. Why?

Well, because of my stringy build they put me on the wing and I muffed a try.

I got the ball and had a clear run to the try line and I ran like the wind. The problem was I was actually running outside the sideline. Being shortsighted I just didn’t see it. When I noticed the headmaster put his head in his hands, I figured something was wrong.

I was let go shortly after the match, which was a relief because I had been tackled heavily several times by my mates (they thought it was funny) and I didn’t enjoy that at all.

I much prefer watching the game and when I do I become another person altogether. It’s like Dr. Jekyll becoming Mr. Hyde. My features distort, I cuss something awful and I just hope the neighbors aren’t listening. If they are, well, pardon the French. And go Broncos!