JASON Morris only has one hand to peel prawns. The other he lost years ago. Mashed in machines at an *Aberdeen tannery.
Not that it matters today, though. No, peeling prawns, tying shoelaces, driving cars ... Jase does the lot. Even throws a spiral pass to rival his little brother.
“And all of it, he’s taught himself,’’ Cronulla utility John Morris insists. “Up home in Scone, people will tell you his toughness, his resilience, or whatever you want to call it, it’s a bit of a family trait.”
This is how John Andrew Morris has come to play 300 NRL games.
And we know you’re all thinking it. Wondering how this ageing Sharks hooker, a fella who admits to being “no superstar”, will on Monday night join the most revered club outside The Immortals.
A group of modern-day gladiators whose names read like a roll call of greatness. Lockyer, Lamb and Menzies. Fittler, Lyon, Hindmarsh, Wiki. Legends who, to a man, have all played for their country.
John Morris, wife Michelle, and two boys Taj and Cruz. Picture: Craig Greenhill
John Morris, wife Michelle, and two boys Taj and Cruz. Picture: Craig Greenhill Source: News Corp Australia
“I’ve just got the two Country jerseys — the most recent from 11 years ago,’’ Morris says with a grin. “So looking across that list, it seems the only thing I share with anyone is the number of games we’ve played.”
Which is why you need to know about his brother, Jason. The promising bush leaguie who was 20, and with a pregnant partner, when he went to work this day with two hands — and came home with one.
“Unbelievable bloke,’’ Johnny insists. “Since the accident, he’s taught himself how to live again. He drives, works, has raised two beautiful kids. And peeling prawns . . . mate, he’s quicker than me.”
John Morris, wife Michelle, and two boys Taj and Cruz. Picture: Craig Greenhill
John Morris, wife Michelle, and two boys Taj and Cruz. Picture: Craig Greenhill Source: News Corp Australia
Toughness, resilience, perseverance: it’s a motto that could sit on the Morris family crest. Forged in the days when, still at primary school, John lost older brother Daniel, 15, in a motorcycle accident.
“Spent the whole trip to John Hunter Hospital excited about what I’d write on his plaster cast,’’ he recalls. “Then we got there and this doctor, he said my brother would die.”
And he did.
Within a year, Jason lost that hand, too. All of which came just before their old man, John snr, contracted motor neurone disease — by the finish he was unable to speak, move, swallow his food.
Yet still, Dad hung in. Lived; surviving two years beyond doctors’ predictions to see his boy play in the NRL.
John Morris will play his 300th game on Monday night. Picture: Craig Greenhill
John Morris will play his 300th game on Monday night. Picture: Craig Greenhill Source: News Corp Australia
“And the whole time, mum cared for him at home,’’ Morris recalls. “So when I think about my family, everything they’ve endured, playing footy each week isn’t real hard.”
And what helps further are the tip sheets. Those pages of rough, handwritten notes which, boxed and stacked in the Morris family garage, have been written, read and studied by this footballer his entire career.
Thoughts on opposing stars. Check. Instructions from coach. Thousands. Only recently, wife *Michelle unearthed notes from a Premier League game played 13 years ago. “Newcastle versus Parramatta,’’ he says. “I paid particular attention to an Eel named Clinton Schifcofske.”
Yes, this is how you play 300 games when everybody else thinks it impossible. Same deal those winter nights when, wearing only Speedos and a hoodie, Morris will stand for 30 minutes or more in his backyard pool. Recovering. Then wear compression pants to bed.
John Morris. Picture: Craig Greenhill
John Morris. Picture: Craig Greenhill Source: News Corp Australia
He even does extras “whenever it pisses down” because, well, who else trains in such weather?
“And I guess it’s OK to tell you about that now,’’ he says. “For years I’ve flat out denied doing them.
“But on days off, late at night, *afternoons when it’s pissing down, I like to think I might be the only one out there getting a little edge.”
Among teammates, the stories are endless. Like the fact this NRL survivor, who humped his swag through Newcastle, Parramatta, Wests Tigers and Cronulla — playing every position bar prop — adds an extra repetition to every weights routine.
Then, at video, always takes the front seat. And as for a coach’s instruction, Morris digests it like gospel. “Because coaches want *superstars,’’ he says. “But they also want that bloke who’ll go out there and do a certain job for them.
“A job that needs to be done right, every week, otherwise your entire structure falls apart. And I’d like to think there will always be a place for that, for the player who works hard.”
