AS THE Melbourne Storm prepared to begin their tackling drills at yesterday's skills session, the club's PR manager walked down the sidelines motioning to the TV crews to stop filming.

This is regular procedure, though, rather than a response to the controversy surrounding the Storm's various tackling techniques that has simmered throughout the year and reached boiling point during the finals.

It just seemed more pointed yesterday because there were far more cameras to be turned away than during the regular season when, despite their lofty status, the club is largely ignored by its home-town media.

Such has been the outcry about the Storm's so-called wrestling techniques that, when the tackling started, you half expected the players to put on masks and leotards and bounce off the goal-posts like Hulk Hogan, hurling himself from a turnbuckle.

Truth was they performed a series of efficient but perfunctory drills that would not have ruffled Nathan Cayless's hair, let alone torn a pectoral muscle as the Parramatta skipper alleged happened on Sunday.

The grapple? The crusher? The ripper? More like the names of the gelati they sell in Lygon Street near the Storm's training ground than any tackles the cameras were forbidden from capturing.

And "turtling"? Given no one was thrown on their back, the term could only be used to describe the speed with which front-rower Ben Cross moved on an injured hamstring during his limited time on the field, enhancing concerns that he will be the hard-luck story come Sunday night.

But despite their predictably light session, you could hardly blame the Storm for ordering the cameras turned off.

With Manly just the latest opponent to make their concerns about their tackling techniques known to referees, the last thing the Storm wanted on the six o'clock news was more close-ups of their forwards making like Andre The Giant.

Still, if the wrestling issue was to be the source of the predictable propaganda battle that precedes every grand final, the Storm's tough-tackling second-rower, Michael Crocker, was happy to return fire.

"Manly are just as good a wrestling team as us and they have proven that all year," he said.

"So if the refs have that [penalising tackles] in their heads, then it's going to affect Manly as well."

One thing unlikely to affect the Storm on Sunday is crushing expectations from their hometown fans.

About 300 loyalists turned up for a fan day at training but, with public and media interest centred firmly on Geelong's quest to break a 44-year premiership drought, the Storm flew out from Melbourne yesterday afternoon well below the radar.

Which is not to say the expectations within the team are not enormous. Perhaps even greater than in 1999, when the Storm upset St George Illawarra, although the only remaining member of that team finds it hard to make comparisons.

"People talk about the little details of 1999: the build-up, the celebrations," says Matt Geyer. "But I'm the one saying, 'When was that?' or 'What did we do?' I was pretty young and I just enjoyed it, but I wasn't really soaking it up like I am now.

"I'll appreciate this one more if we win it."

The painful memories of losing last year's grand final to the Broncos have driven some Storm players.

For Crocker, the pain of missing that match because of injury has been the spur. Now, after each training session he completes without incident, there is a sense of relief.

"It's just satisfying as well because I had the option to have the full [shoulder] reconstruction and I would not be here if I hadn't been advised to do otherwise," he said.

Besieged by the media, Cross was upbeat about his chances of playing on Sunday, talking about the long hours he had spent icing the hamstring in the middle of the night after Sunday's game. But there was also a slight note of resignation when he added: "They've told some other guys [possible replacements] they are a chance to play as well."

The Storm's other injured star, Billy Slater, was far more ebullient about his sore knee.

"I'll be sweet mate," he said to a reporter who gave him a doubtful look. "No mate," he fired back. "Trust me."

In grand final week, that is always a big ask.