That previous year we stood in the middle of the Sydney Football Stadium after full-time. Our players were distressed. We watched the Raiders celebrating. It was obvious how much this grand final win meant to them. We stayed for the trophy presentation. It’s polite to do so, but it’s bloody hard. Our players filed onto the dais to collect their runners-up medals. It feels like you’ve run last. There are no consolation prizes on such an occasion. Champions: The Panthers celebrate victory over the Raiders in the 1991 grand final. Credit:SMH archives Before we left the field, I gathered our team in a huddle and said: “In 12 months' time we will come back here and swap these silver medals for gold ones. I promise.” And so it began – 12 months of hard work to get another shot at the title. Never once cutting a corner. Never pulling up short on a run. Never missing the count on the number of repetitions.

From the most basic of skills, to the more intricate plays, these lads practised them over and over.

One little mistake and they would start again. Close enough was never good enough. After all, to win this premiership, we had to beat a side regarded as one of the greatest club teams in history. A challenge we knew would be difficult, but by no means impossible. Motivated by the grand final defeat, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more close-knit and hard-working group of players. I’d experienced being with great teams at the Bulldogs throughout the 1980s. They trained hard and they were extremely talented; four premierships in that decade were testimony to their ability. However, this Panthers group was different. Royce Simmons and Mark Geyer celebrate their 1991 grand final victory. Credit:SMH Our players were relentless in their pursuit of success. Injuries, suspensions, rep football; these guys took them all in their stride. We didn’t always have the same team on the field, but it didn’t matter. If someone was out, we knew the next man up would do the job. The boys who got to play on grand final day represented a much larger group of players who all contributed so much throughout the year. They would represent every player who had worn the Panthers jersey. They would also represent the people of Penrith.

The Panthers finished minor premiers. We had the weekend off through the first round of finals.

I don’t think I’ve ever trained a team harder than what we put these boys through during that fortnight. We probably went into that first semi-final against North Sydney a little flat, but everything was now being directed towards peaking for the grand final at the end of the month. It was a gamble. Loading The Bears were a great team. Tough. Disciplined. The game went down to the wire, the Panthers prevailing by two points. It wasn’t our best performance, but it was the physical battle we needed. Again we had a fortnight’s break and sat back to wait for our grand final rival to be decided. The previous year we were in the same position. I had taken our team to watch the preliminary final. The result was never in doubt. The Raiders were awesome. In some ways, I think that was a mistake on my behalf. Maybe it intimidated us a little. I think about that often. On this occasion, I chose to train the Panthers in the heat of the day at an army base just outside Penrith, at the same time the preliminary final between North Sydney and Canberra was being played in Sydney.

In our last drill for the day, we had them boxing on punching bags, while I sat under a tree to listen to the radio and get the final score. When the game was over, I went back to where they were training. I stood quietly, watching them slapping the bags. I didn’t say a word. They were determined not to look at me. They would wait. Then, as they were halfway through their final round on the bags, I said: “We are playing Canberra.”

Not one player looked up. Not one player said a word. But the punches instantly got stronger. They hit those bags right until the time clock ran down to zero. No one pulled up even a second short of the finish line. Loading Replay Replay video Play video Play video We wanted it to be Canberra. We wanted to beat the best. We were ready. The grand final began frantically; big hits, big runs, everyone at full pace.

When our retiring legend Royce Simmons scored the opening try, all hell broke loose. Our boys felt the rush of emotion, not just because we took the early lead, but more because it was Royce who scored the try. Our focus dilutes, though. We got over-excited. We got dragged into playing Canberra’s style of football. Bad mistake. Loading Before we knew it, the Raiders had scored twice and were unlucky not to score again. We badly needed the half-time siren. When it finally sounds, the Raiders lead 12-6 and our lads were on tilt. It’s funny how the football gods have a way of testing you right until the end. They throw up setbacks and roadblocks. All they are really asking is, “How bad do you want this?”

I won’t talk about everything that was said during that half-time break, but I will tell you the last thing I said to them, before they left the room: “We are now in exactly the same position we were at this time last year. It’s half-time. We trail the Canberra Raiders 12-6. You’ve got 40 minutes to show me what you’ve learnt over the past 12 months.” Coaches don’t win grand finals. Not even great players win grand finals. Great teams do. The Panthers played the most perfect 40 minutes of football one could imagine. Despite having a player sent to the sin bin, despite a number of near misses in trying to get a try to draw level, the Panthers just kept coming. Loading Replay Replay video Play video Play video Finally, a series of brilliant passes gets Brad Izzard free to score under the posts. “We’re all locked up,” screams commentator Graham Hughes.

Not long after, our captain, Greg Alexander, attempts a field goal from 40 metres out. Hughes bellows again: “Alexander, long way out .... He’s got it!” Panthers lead 13-12. Everything now is going a million miles an hour. Then comes the moment everyone in Penrith will remember forever. Big Mark Geyer swoops on a short line dropout from the Raiders. He catches the ball at full pace, pulls through the line before being hit in a great low tackle. Geyer stands tall and turns to look for support. Who’s there? I will never forget Hughes’ call: “Roycie Simmons ... the grand final is gone!”

That was it. The Panthers defeated the Raiders 19-12 to win their first premiership. I remember Alexander lifting the winner’s trophy, saying: “For the people of Penrith”. I remember our players filing onto the dais to collect their medals. Their runners-up medals were now a distant memory. Great days indeed. The rivalry between the two clubs has been intense ever since. I see they are playing each other again on Sunday. It's a big game for both teams, too.