How do we sign off on the Wayne Carey saga? Should we? When is it a decent time to stop talking about it and allow the protagonists to put their lives back together? It’s a tough one. We don’t want to trivialise the tale by comparing it to theatre, or fiction, because real lives have been harmed here, perhaps irreparably. But the elements of this tragic story make it compelling and, at times, very disturbing.

Many non-sports fans have wondered about all the fuss, but rarely does a man fall so far into ignominy from a hallowed place, in so short a time. It’s Shakespearean in its scope. The King himself, his boyhood mate, their childhood sweethearts. A football club dependent for its survival on taking advantage of the profile of its most famous son in his waning years. Loyal fans. Betrayal. Humiliation. Humbleness. Forgiveness. Disillusionment. Sport is a big part of life, whether non-sports fans like it or not. But here, sport collided with life with such force that everyone felt some impact.

The reaction has been interesting. That much-neglected virtue, forgiveness, has re-entered public debate. On the other hand, so many were so vehement that Carey and his mistress should be hounded to hell that they opened our eyes to all those people out there without sin. There can’t be that many hypocrites in the world, can there?

The worst aspect of all this is that the rumours we’ve heard for years about Carey have now surfaced, as though they only became news when the press needed to milk the story for the sake of sales and, in the case of some journos, self-glorification. And reportage has now become soap-opera. A different type of journo will now bring us nauseatingly “sincere” accounts of pain, anguish and efforts at reconciliation as four people try to rebuild their lives.

Carey? Look for something like a 60 minutes story after a respectable time has elapsed. If he really wants to seriously poke his head out in public again, he’ll need to build a bridge; to come across to a large audience as a man who has learned something about himself, and grown. He’s on his own now. Spin won’t do it- it might have got OJ Simpson exonerated in court, but not in the hearts of the public. Eventually, Wayne Carey will have to emerge to tell the story of a self-discovery trip he’s only now just barely begun. And he’ll have to mean it. Either that or he won’t be trusted anywhere, by anyone, ever again. As for Carey’s wife and Anthony Stevens, they deserve praise for their lack of public bitterness. We have no control over their willingness to forgive, and they may never forget. But we can do our bit to make the latter endeavour easier.

Published in Inside Sport, April 2002