Sam Thaiday vented on Instagram. Credit:Instagram But I did love Petty. I wonder sometimes whether you even have the right to feel devastated about the passing of someone you never knew. But I'll tell you what, I played every Travelling Wilburys album I own on vinyl the other night – and it made me feel so sad. Crushed and old. Time, as it's oft said, waits for no man. Enough of that, indulgence over. Converse to my selfishness, my Australian Concise Oxford Dictionary defines the word "selfless" to mean to disregard oneself, or one's own interests; to be unselfish. That I've pulled the dictionary off the bookshelf at all, can be put down to the fact it was the Brisbane Broncos' forward Sam Thaiday who, apparently, penned the Kangaroos' ode RISE – a modern-day call to arms, if you will. I never knew that before this week; indeed it's news to me that the Kangaroos have a mantra at all. Anyway, that Thaiday wrote this poem – indeed anything intelligible – lying supine in a London hospital bed late last year with one functioning eye (courtesy of smashed bones on the other side of his face) and fuelled on morphine, is rather impressive. I'd never seriously considered Thaiday's eloquence and repertoire to likely extend far beyond the often-retold tale – yep, you know the one – about the romance and style with which he surrendered his virginity. I KNOW, books and covers and all that.

Anyway, apparently RISE is an acronym, which stands for Respect, Inspire, Selfless, Excellence – the core values of the Australian rugby league team. It's the "selfless" aspect which causes me to wonder. Intrigues me even, in the context of Thaiday's manner of responding to the no advance notification of his non-selection in the Kangaroos' 24-man squad for the upcoming World Cup. In context, Thaiday was a member of the Australian team last selected, to play in the mid-season ANZAC Test. Indeed, Thaiday has donned his country's colours on over 30 occasions. He's no Johnny-come-lately to international rugby league. However it's inside-out and rather odd that Thaiday might retreat to the Church of Instagram, as his chosen method of expressing his dismay – both at his non-selection and of not being told about it in advance. Take it away, Sam: "Aussie Aussie Aussie … No. No. No. So, it's official – the end of my 2017 Rugby League year. Who would've thought that this year would be the last time I played for both QLD and Australia. A bit of respect would have been nice … to at least receive a phone call and learn about selection that way instead of through a leaked report from the media on last night's news. After dedicating more than 10 years wearing the Maroon and Green and Gold jersey, you'd expect to be treated with a bit more decency and respect ..." So, did Thaiday deserve being afforded the decency and respect of a phone call from Australian coach Mal Meninga, lest it be risked Thaiday might inevitably find out about his omission through the media? Undoubtedly. It's the only right way to handle such things. Should Thaiday have had any reasonable expectation that he might be selected for the World Cup on the back of his decidedly indifferent season? Hardly. As some wise guy quipped two decades' ago in Jerry Maguire – it's not show friends; it's show business. You can't select players on the promise of past glories, or to be nice. It's difficult to accept that someone might actually expect to play for his or her country, where to do so is the highest of honours.

Should Meninga be "horrified" – as he told Fairfax media he was, this week – about his own inaction in not contacting Thaiday, even when other incumbents and recent Australian representatives might've been afforded the same courtesy? Most definitely not, though kudos to Meninga for responding so graciously to Thaiday's social media tirade. Put simply, there's a lot of things that have happened in the world this week, which truly transcend the definition of "horrible". Thaiday isn't the victim of any act or omission that even approaches that same universe, which horror infests. Thaiday isn't the victim, of anything. He's simply borne the brunt of an innocent oversight. And beyond that, perhaps Thaiday's Instagram rant actually says more about Thaiday than it does about anything else. For isn't it such, that Thaiday comes across as a petulant sook? Isn't it just a tiny bit uncouth and lacking in style to throw your toys out of the pram on social media, instead of behaving like a grown-up? Meninga, or one of his staff could have called Thaiday, no doubt. In the same vein, an Instagram "scorched earth" policy is of itself disrespectful to the whole Australian set-up. Thaiday could've called Big Mal and vented privately, what he instead decreed was the whole Insta galaxy needed to know. Which was pretty selfish, to put a word on it. Respect, you might say, is a curious concept. It's too easy to demand to be afforded decency and respect. Which is all fine and good; but when that insistence isn't reciprocated by the giving of the same levels of deference and consideration … well, the demand for respect is rendered white noise. Written words are cheap; actions are priceless. Ought you not live by the convictions of your own words?

Perhaps this is a lesson in dealing with the disappointment that comes with learning there's only room at the summit of Everest for a chosen few. Otherwise, as the Wilburys perhaps put it best – be careful where you're walking ... and saying all that stuff.