Sporting Declaration: There's always two sides to every story

I was reminded of that this week after an incident involving a not-so-young journalist that has created a week of headlines and cast a cloud over a highly successful career.

I've known Paul Kent for a long time. Best part of 30 years, at a rough guess.

I wouldn't say he was a mate, more of an associate I've bumped into often in press boxes at various sporting fixtures.

He's not someone with whom I've socialised or had any contact outside of work, but we've always gotten along well, and I've always enjoyed his company.

During the London Olympics in 2012, we covered a lot of the same events and would regularly sit alongside each other.

On one occasion in London, as we were walking up stairs into a stadium, a tall, wiry black man in colourful clothes caught my attention and, after a double take, I turned to Kenty and said: "I'm pretty sure that was Samuel L Jackson."

In his trademark deadpan style, he replied with a manufactured American drawl: "Bad motherf---er."

(You probably need to have seen the greatest movie of all time, Pulp Fiction, to get the reference).

A couple of years later, after I collected the first of two trophies at the Kennedy Awards in Sydney, Kenty stepped up out of the crowd and congratulated me as I made my way back to my table.

"Good on ya, Bobby," he said, shaking my hand. It meant a lot to me, because the respect was mutual.

In my opinion Kent is a great writer. He has a way with words that is a rare gift.

I don't always agree with the opinions he expresses in the Daily Telegraph, but I admire his ability to tell a tale.

He has also authored a couple of books, about boxing trainer Johnny Lewis and rugby code-hopper Sonny Bill Williams, and they were both well worth a read.

In the past decade or so, he's evolved into a genuine multi-media personality, parlaying his writing career into his role as host of the Foxtel show NRL 360, and, for a time, as a radio commentator on Triple M.

He's become as high-profile a celebrity in rugby league as many of the players, but there is a flip side to all that, especially given the often-brutal critiques he delivers.

His holier-than-thou persona attracts a lot of haters. That goes with the territory.

Last year, when he was charged with domestic violence and stood down for months by his employers after an incident involving his former girlfriend, the hammering he copped on social media was savage.

In particular, one video circulated of him sitting in a pub while he was verbally abused by a lowlife who repeatedly called him a "rapist" and threatened to "smack the f---" out of him.

He was subsequently found not guilty of all charges, and there were never any rape allegations raised in court.

Now he finds himself sidelined again, after an incident on the weekend in which he appeared to exchange expletives with a stranger outside a restaurant, before a wild physical confrontation that ended with Kent being hurled into a tree trunk.

A phone video of the dust-up went viral, Kent was again stood down, and both men have since been charged with affray and will appear in court. It's a terrible look, and presumably highly embarrassing and painful for Kent, who was left nursing broken ribs, not to mention a bruised ego.

Sympathisers have been few and far between, and fair enough. Kent has never been shy about dishing out moral judgements, and what comes around, goes around.

I'm certainly not here to defend him. He's quite capable of looking after himself.

But I've long subscribed to the theory, as mentioned previously, that there are at least two sides to every story.

We won't hear his version until he's taken the stand and sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

I'm willing to wait until that moment arrives.