There’s something oddly fitting about Owen Trout signing for the Sharks. It’s like the ocean has already been told there’s a new fish coming, but we’re all just sitting around staring at the water like confused goldfish waiting for it to happen.
Right now, the Sharks haven’t actually caught anything—they’ve just chummed the waters early. And the forum has immediately reacted like a school of overexcited mackerel, all circling the same bit of bait and repeating fish puns with the enthusiasm of a sleepy carp in a warm pond.
Owen Trout himself, meanwhile, is still over in the Super League swimming around like a fairly unbothered salmon, knowing he’s got a long upstream journey ahead before he ends up in the Shire aquarium. By 2027, he’ll either arrive as a fully developed apex predator or have spent two years avoiding being turned into someone else’s highlight-reel tuna sandwich.
The Sharks fans, of course, are already behaving like he’s been dropped straight into the tank. There’s talk of pack reshuffles, line speed improvements, and general aquatic dominance, despite the fact he’s currently about as present as a mythical anglerfish lurking in the deep that nobody’s actually seen yet.
The recruitment team are basically operating like strategic fishermen: “We’ve cast the net early,” they said, while everyone else is still arguing over whether the bait looks more like a sardine or a slightly optimistic herring.
By the time 2027 rolls around, expectations will be so high that Trout will have to arrive, immediately fend off a swarm of opposition piranhas, outswim three confused haddock in the middle of the field, and still have enough energy left to justify every single forum post that currently reads like a fever dream from a tank of excited koi carp.
And let’s be honest, by then the thread will either have evolved into a marine documentary narrated by someone calmly explaining “the migration of the Owen Trout through the salary cap ecosystem,” or it will have completely collapsed into people just typing the word “fish” in all caps like deranged eel enthusiasts.
Either way, 2027 can’t come soon enough—but for now, we’re all just staring into the water, waiting for a Trout that hasn’t even been netted yet.