Loose lips sink clubs

In rugby league, talent will get you noticed, but culture will determine whether you're remembered for winning trophies or wooden spoons.

At the Wests Tigers, it doesn't matter how many million-dollar contracts you sign or how many talented juniors you unearth, the moment something significant happens, you can bet it'll be leaked and broadcast before the players have finished their cool down.

In 2025, the Lachlan Galvin saga didn't just blow up overnight.

It followed a script the Tigers seem to have perfected: confidential meeting, internal drama, media leak, public fallout.

The question isn't why this keeps happening.

The question is why hasn't it been stopped?

Lachlan Galvin's rise was one of the only bright spots in a 2024 season where the Tigers collected a third straight wooden spoon.

Mature beyond his years, bold with the ball, he looked like the club's future. But behind the scenes, the cracks were already forming.

By late 2024, Galvin had requested a release from the club three separate times.

Cultural instability, coaching uncertainty and doubts about his long-term development were the likely catalysts.

The club refused to let him go, instead telling him they'd 'convince' him to stay.

In April, the Tigers, in an effort to secure Galvin long-term, called a meeting with him and his manager Isaac Moses.

A week later, CEO Shane Richardson with coach Marshall at his side presented a contract extension reportedly worth $5 million over five years.

Galvin declined immediately.

Privately, he had reportedly told Moses he didn't feel he could grow under Marshall's coaching, an opinion possibly shaped by relentless media questioning in 2024 of Benji's credentials.

But within a short time of the meeting ending, the story was everywhere.

The dollar amount of the offer and the length.

The fact that Galvin had criticised his coach.

And, of course, the juicy narrative that the brightest young talent wanted to look elsewhere.

Was he chasing the money? He'd just handed back $5 million.

Say what you want about the talented 27-gamer - it's not likely he was going to have that matched anywhere else.

And so Tigers have unfortunately become the NRL's version of a political party in freefall where every conversation might end up in a journalist's inbox, and where internal dysfunction is the only thing you can rely on.

This isn't a one-off.

The Tigers' history of leaking is long and destructive, from Justin Pascoe's multiple deregistrations and PR disasters, to constant speculation about coaching takeovers, boardroom infighting and breach notices to political plays to generate grants for decrepit home grounds.

Now add the Galvin leak to the list. These aren't teething issues.

They're symptoms of an organisation that either can't or won't get its house in order.

On Thursday, Benji Marshall fronted the media like a man who knew the blowtorch was coming.

“I was shocked by it, no doubt, and a little bit disappointed,” he said of Galvin's contract rejection and rumours of a list of 'grievances' with his coaching style.

Benji took ownership of the relegation of Galvin to NSW Cup, saying it was entirely his decision but one that he wanted to ensure he had the support of the senior playing group.

He continued, looking increasingly forlorn at the line of questioning, “I want what's best for this club and this team. And if I'm not the best option, then I'll go.

“At the end of the day, that was my call on what I think is going to win us this game this week.”

But the media scrum was relentless, seeking even the slightest hint of inner turmoil, playing group animosity or even punishment for Galvin.

“Just because you want to know everything, we don't have to tell everything,” he fired at the waiting microphones, exasperation on show.

Benji is no stranger to media scrutiny, as a non-conventional, scarily talented playmaker who showed his ability very early on in his career.

When things didn't go to plan, and he wasn't that typical out-of-the-box style of player, the media would be relentless.

And as Marshall was 2024's punching bag, he understands what Galvin is going through, possibly seeing a version of himself in the lanky Oran Park junior.

"He's a 19-year-old kid who just loves footy… this has been made up to be a lot bigger than what it is," he went on.

One of the potential reasons this fiasco even got this far is the ego war between Tigers' CEO Shane Richardson, and previously deregistered player manager Isaac Moses - the man beside Galvin at that now-infamous meeting.

He is the most powerful player agent in rugby league.

He runs Cove Agency and his client list is staggering: Mitchell Moses, Luke Brooks, Blaize Talagi, Galvin and a handful of current NRL head coaches, including Shane Flanagan, Anthony Seibold and Todd Payten.

Moses is known for striking massive deals, like Joseph Suaalii's $5 million cross-code move to rugby.

He's also known for pushing the limits of the system.

He was deregistered in 2021 for obstructing an NRL investigation into the Parramatta Eels.

Prior to that, he was suspended over his role in the Melbourne Storm salary cap saga.

Both times, he returned with his client list mostly intact.

Clubs still do business with him because he controls so much of the market. Players and coaches hire him because he achieves results.

At the Roosters, he's persona non grata. They refuse to deal with him after previous fallouts, including the Suaalii situation.

But the Tigers? They've danced this dance before.

To lay the blame at Isaac Moses either suggests the Tigers are not learning from past mistakes, or are oblivious to being played.

Moses famously managed the 'Big Four' - James Tedesco, Aaron Woods, Luke Brooks and Mitchell Moses - when all were off contract simultaneously.

Only one stayed and now, history's repeating.

But in the ashes of the latest debacle stands Jarome Luai.

Four-time premiership winner. NSW and Samoa representative. Co-captain of the Tigers for 2025.

One of the only players in the league with the resume, credibility and mindset to change a club's internal standards.

At Penrith, Luai helped build a fortress. Leaks were rare. Standards were high. Loyalty was everything.

He's gone from cheeky firebrand to respected leader, and he knows what it's like to be the subject of a media storm.

Benji Marshall says Luai brings “passion and creativity” and that he “offers a balance of stability and flair” when paired with co-captain Api Koroisau.

But it's Luai's assertiveness that's most vital.

When the Galvin situation boiled over, Luai was part of the leadership group that backed Marshall's call to demote him. He didn't duck the issue. He stood up.

Luai is not afraid of uncomfortable conversations and he's been contracted to not just get wins, but to make the Tigers accountable.

For the first time in a decade, the club has a leader who won't tolerate side chats and shadow agendas.

Leaks can only cause chaos if someone is willing to turn whispers into headlines.

In the NRL, these big-time deals come off the back of figures who play clubs off each other and who operate more like message boards for player managers and disgruntled insiders than objective reporters.

The amplification of a leak or rumour always has a reason; a goal for the person who leaked it, and a goal for the person who gave it oxygen.

The Tigers' dysfunction makes great content, but it also makes solutions impossible.

When everything becomes public within minutes, trust evaporates.

And when trust disappears, culture collapses. And that's why Tigers fans should be feeling strengthened by the presence of Marshall and Luai at their club, not taking a backwards step.

The Wests Tigers aren't suffering from a talent shortage.

They're suffering from an integrity shortage.

From a trust shortage.

From a discipline shortage.

“We need to keep working on what's best for us to win games… all these agendas, all these different things that I don't control,” said Marshall, hinting that the adults in charge are actually the ones who are influencing the scoreboard and the Tigers' position on the ladder.

Until the agendas stop, until the leaks stop, and until the club learns to close its own mouth, no amount of talent will save them.

The Wests Tigers don't need another saviour, they need silence.

And they need leadership that stays in the room, not the newsroom.