It wasn’t unusual, given that a fight in the opening scrum sends a clear message to the referee that it was premeditated. Nor was the plan surprising, given that only our captain, Craig Young, and lock Graeme O’Grady could match their forwards for experience in these matters.

Richo passed on the espionage to me, as the coach of the Dragons, and I relayed it to the players with our own counter tactic.

"Why do you have scrums?" I asked, in the typical schoolteacher instructional methods of the day. When the ball goes into touch and when players drop the ball.

"Well, don’t kick for the sideline and don’t drop the ball. If Souths drop it, pounce on it, rather than allow them to regather. If the second scrum is not packed until well into the first half, Souths’ monsters will be too tired to put their hands up!"

Suddenly, the pasty faces of the Dragons backs turned a confident pink and it was clear our completion rate (an unknown term back then) was going to be 100 per cent, with self-preservation being the main driver.

Well, the second scrum came quicker than anticipated, and the brawl spread from one side of the field to the other and back again. It seemed to last an eternity. When play re-started and Brian Johnston was savaged in a tackle, his co-centre, Mick Beattie, came in to assist. The brawl re-ignited with players fighting in pairs, trios and wrestling pockets, spilling over the sideline.

The Dragons had been told to grab an opponent’s jumper and keep him out of two-on-one contests. Steve "Bubba" Gearin, our goalkicking winger, may have ignored this instruction. We later joked that the peace-loving Bubba had slipped into the hole made by the black and white cardboard corner post.

O’Grady recalls: "One Souths bloke was getting into "Slippery" [Steve Morris], who was holding his own. But Mario king-hit Slippery from behind. I grabbed Mario by the jumper and as he backed off, the jumper slid up over his head and I kept swinging them."

The brawl lasted a long time and the crowd began booing. My initial thought was their anger was directed at the three-on-one attacks.

John Fleming, the Dragons chief executive, was quoted in the Herald saying, "What happened with three players onto one was thuggery."

Souths led 6-4 at half-time but the Dragons’ superior backline settled down and scored 18 points in 14 minutes, winning 24-6.

Johnston, now the St George Illawarra chairman, says, "The game was memorable to me for three reasons. Firstly, the warm-up period lasted until half-time. Secondly, the 1984 team was the most complete and balanced side I ever played in; and thirdly, despite the ferocity and emotion, we were able to recover and score some of the best long-range tries you’ll see."

The crowd booing worried me and, later, in the dressing room, I speculated that perhaps there is a point where the violence can go too far and sicken the spectators.

"That’s the end of the catharthis theory," I pontificated, rejecting the writings of the bow-tied academics who say people go to the football to sublimate their own aggression, letting the players release it on their behalf.

One of my players said, "Don’t be f---ing silly. The mob was booing because the SCG officials turned off the big screen."

The fans wanted two views of the action. The one on the field and the close-ups via the cathode rays of the giant TV screen.

I recall leaving the SCG on the day which had witnessed the last big brawl in rugby league, certainly during semi-finals, thinking the world had been turned upside down and that I shouldn’t speculate on mass emotion.

Orwell was right: "War is peace, ignorance is strength ..."