ANALYSIS

WE'VE had the grand final rematch. Last night the two outstanding sides of the past two seasons played their grand final pre-play.

On the points table, the Sydney Roosters and Cronulla still breathe warmly on their necks. But both are still pretenders, yet to prove themselves worthy of occupying the same lofty heights as Manly and the Storm, an opinion confirmed by a game last night of such quality and intensity to have fans already viewing the grand final with high expectation.

Manly assume their positions at Brookvale with a cockiness that belies coach Des Hasler's attempts to fly under the radar. Winning at home is a habit but one they seemed to have forgotten last night. In its place came nervousness and mistake after hair-tearing mistake as Matt Orford, Anthony Watmough and Steve Matai gifted the Storm possession and territory.

And teams as gifted as Melbourne don't need freebies. But, when they're offered, they generally leave the Christmas tree stripped bare. An avalanche of possession could have only one result: Cooper Cronk opened the gate with an inside ball and Billy Slater broke clear like the colt from Old Regret. Old Man Matt Geyer, his head as bald as rock, scored the try.

The Storm had their foot on their rival's neck and they kept pushing. Manly's moment of truth had arrived earlier than they would have hoped and there was a lot at stake.

Since round 11 in May 2007, Manly, clearly the best team north of the Murray, have been towelled up twice by the Storm. Not just beaten, but flogged. Not just bettered, but battered.

In last year's grand final they sunk 34-8 and in the rematch early this year they went down 26-4 in Melbourne. Three strikes and you'd have to suspect they'd be out, too mentally wounded to recover their poise this season.

But then Manly's forwards finally got into their work. Pity the guy in the saddle kept getting his feet stuck in the stirrups, with Orford repeatedly failing to jag either a try or, just as importantly, in a match of these grindingly tight characteristics, a repeat set.

Orford's first blue - a rusty forward pass on the opening set - earned a "whooo" from the Storm forwards, a taste of Ox-baiting that spoke of fires of discontent burning beneath the smiling pleasantries that accompany modern rugby league.

Manly's forwards can't talk up a Storm but they were ready to hit their opponents like a tightly packed low-pressure cell. Unperturbed by Orford's failings they bent their backs, bent the line and, crucially, wriggled loose of the Melbourne wrestle. Brent Kite was grounded in last year's grand final by Melbourne's props, led by Brett White.

Coach Craig Bellamy saw enough to strike Kite, a Test prop, off his Origin list, an omission that wounded the big man.

Kite didn't whinge or blab, keeping most of the pain to himself, until last night, when roared into the game, asserting his own credentials and leading his pack into a position of equality in the arm wrestle.

With him came Glenn Hall, a journeyman forward at his fourth club in half a dozen years who's found his feet at Brookvale. His charging run, carrying Michael Crocker with him, levelled the scores.

But either side of half-time the Storm put a pair of quick tries on Manly to surge clear, courtesy of talent, speed and size, which strikes fear into all their opponents. Again the foot was on the neck as the Storm went 10 points clear.

But, from the deck, the Sea Eagles stared up in defiance, went back to their work and simply refused to concede an inch. Through effervescent winger David Williams they pulled back a try and fought on.

With five minutes left a Cam Smith forward pass 30 metres out got them off the floor to stare eyeball to eyeball with their greatest adversary.

But eyeball to eyeball is one thing. Even with the Storm forced to kick time and again from the goal-line, Manly couldn't find the try they needed. But they'd found enough in their hearts to go on with confidence.