"There's still a lot of work to do": David Gallop. Photo: Brendan Esposito
David Gallop stands in the tunnel at Parramatta Stadium. It is stoppage time in the Sydney derby and from the frenzied fans in the Red and Black Bloc comes an outraged groan.
Wanderers centre-half Iacopo La Rocca has been sent off, the latest explosion to punctuate a night that had throbbed and pulsated even before the first whistle. So security put in place the temporary screen that protects players and officials leaving the pitch.
There was a time when screens were pulled to protect Gallop. At Brookvale and AAMI Park. Places where the former NRL boss bore the brunt of unpopular decisions. But, on Saturday night, the only protection Gallop requires is from fans wanting him to pose for photos or sign their shirts. ''Yeah, little bit different isn't it?'' he says in his understated drawl.
Gallop has left a corporate box for the sideline in the final minutes in case the Wanderers score, and he is required to present the Premiers' Plate. He recalls driving to Penrith Stadium in his Holden with the J.J. Giltinan Shield in the boot. Saturday night's plans are more sophisticated, but there is no late winner.
So Gallop stays in the tunnel shaking the hands of officials and players. Or, more pertinently, they shake his. That is another indication of the warm manner in which Gallop has been embraced by a game that has - somewhat unexpectedly - accepted the recruitment of a high-profile official from a rival code as part of a long-awaited ''great leap forward''.
Sydney FC coach Frank Farina blows extravagant kisses to the Wanderers fans screaming foul expletives, then laughs when his eyes meet Gallop's. ''All part of the show,'' says Farina with a mischievous grin.
Alessandro Del Piero stops and chats. In his seat, Gallop had marvelled when Del Piero scored the first goal. Wanderers defender Nikolai Topor-Stanley had gifted the ball to Del Piero with a disastrous pass - football's equivalent of leaving your baby in the tiger enclosure. ''He still had to beat two to score,'' Gallop insisted.
But when Gallop compliments Del Piero on the goal, the great striker grins: ''It's too easy!''
The parade of players leaves Gallop with a sticky hand from the plaster on their palms. ''Thanks for coming out,'' several players say. Which is a touch more polite than what Brett Stewart had to say on the grand final dais.
Timing is everything. As Gallop could not have chosen a more tumultuous time at the NRL, his move to A-League has coincided with its best and brightest season. The Sydney derby, hosted by a Cinderella team and a raucous band of supporters who have become an instant institution, is merely the latest manifestation.
Before the game, Gallop mingles in a box with the NSW Sports Minister, Graham Annesley, Wanderers executive chairman Lyall Gorman and a group of high-profile supporters. When the game's Godfather, Frank Lowy, walks in wearing fashionable black, most eyes shoot in his direction.
Lowy - like everyone else - shakes Gallop's hand firmly. They first met at a reception during the London Olympics. Lowy told Gallop he wanted to have a chat. Shortly after, they were on Lowy's yacht discussing the FFA job.
The shopping mall czar, who set up business in the western suburbs as an immigrant, proudly surveys his flock. Even if, as some claim, Lowy's interest in Sydney FC caused what now seems an unfathomable delay in introducing a second Sydney team. Not true, says Lowy. ''We couldn't find the right owners. We talked to a lot of people. But things are always changing. Sometimes for the better.''
Lowy leaves to find his seat, but soon returns: ''I just want to tell you something [a sign] I saw in the crowd. 'It doesn't get any better!'''
It also doesn't get any easier. Much of Gallop's week has been taking up monitoring the rescue mission at Central Coast Mariners. You venture that, for an FFA chief executive, losing your first club is as much an initiation ritual as having your head shoved down the toilet at boarding school.
''Yeah, there's still a lot of work to do,'' allows Gallop, whose legacy will be determined by whether he can ensure clubs still bleeding money are profitable and stable. Gallop says it took 10 years for the NRL to close the gap between the salary cap and club grants. The A-League hopes to achieve that next season.
But Saturday night is about the game. Gallop is engrossed, but not animated. At the NRL, he watched the A-League as a competitor, but followed West Bromwich Albion.
He has an appreciation of the game. ''They'll park the bus and try to hang on,'' he says when Sydney FC's Brett Emerton is sent off with the Sky Blues leading 1-0. But he does not feel compelled to feign knowledge or dance for the media, as his NRL replacement Dave Smith was tempted to do.
When Shannon Cole curls in the equaliser from a free kick, Gallop rising a centimetre or two from his seat. ''How was that!'' he says. An act of excitement from an executive who takes his neutrality seriously.
After the hand-shaking rituals, and more backslapping from fans downstairs, Gallop drives out of the car park. ''I've been to enough Eels games to know my way,'' he says, looking for the exit.
Gallop's exit from the NRL was sudden, even brutal. An experience that will ensure he enjoys football's warm embrace, but does not take it for granted.
Twitter @rdhinds
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