“does that mean they’ve all got headaches?”

Fellow Shatteredees,

Who’d be an Australian cricket selector at the moment, for love or money?
Not when you the team you picked has just been out played, out captained, and out coached.
To be done by nine wickets when you were odds on at the end of day two against a mob of Yarpies does tend to disappoint.
It’s a funny game
Someone was muttering under his breath something to do with the first time Straya had lost a test series at home in 16 or 17 years or something or another.
AMJ Hilditch?
What’s he ever done?
DC Boon and MG Hughes?
No one’s denying their deserved place in the pantheon of the greats – but how does that qualify them?
And then there’s the faceless man, who you would hope, acts as the obligatory fly in the ointment?
When they arrive in Sydney the “leadership group” would probably benefit from an afternoon in The Room Full of Mirrors down on the Balmain Rd [it’s free – the footballers are in Hawaii].
Pup and Punter could hop into the sauna afterwards and they might discuss their injudicious second innings shots that didn’t even bother to trouble the umpire to put his finger up, as the whole ground knew.
It looked like both of them were using one of those curved sticks favoured by Irish hurling players.
And just when the test match was there to be saved for a second time.
To dolly one to the field in test cricket is a cardinal sin, only very slightly better, but not by much, than the original sin of running yourself out.
As a good mate remarked today when he heard of the result in Melbourne “Sydney looks like a good place for one or two to debut, but I’m damned if I know who.”
Noted from the television graphic at the office after the dénouement that IM Chappell had somebody called Marcus North somewhere in his batting order.
Marcus Who?
KJ O’Keeffe is keen on opening with PJ Hughes [NSW] on a horses for courses basis, but neglects to factor in the fact that the kiddie has only been playing first class cricket for five minutes.
There’s even been talk of playing both spinners on a track, which from my first hand observations this summer, will play like a four to six lane highway over the five days,
You’d only do that if you found that SK Warne and SCG MacGill weren’t overly busy in the New Year.
Speaking of blokes who have had the decency and sense to retire just after they had achieved the peak of their powers, there must be one or two jokers over the age of 30who are currently in the team, who might just take themselves to wondering in the light of what’s happened, whether they could have played on too long.
Maybe they should’ve followed the lead of DR Martyn and JL Langer, who are both decent and sensible men; just walk away from the caper and take your chances.
Who’s to say?
The young folk might have a few thoughts about it.
When news broke that B Lee had something wrong with his foot and that according to the news it had given the selectors a headache, the Good Lady Wife remarked “does that mean they’ve all got headaches?”
Enough said.

con artists

Frustratees,

The Royal Commissioners, who turned up in Melbourne to conduct the semi-public inquiry into the Pathetic Performance at Perth, would no doubt have had their minds concentrated by the proceedings on day three at the MCG with Straya’s inability to take two tail end wickets in a day.
This, after the Captain had scored a ton to lead from the front, and the Vice Captain was asked to save the test match and came good with a well made 80 odd not out.
An innings of two sensible halves by MJ Clarke, as he plunged the pitchfork into the deck just out in front of the popping crease on day one, only to help score at a run a minute on day two.
The rapidly developing cricket brain coming into play.
Everyone knew the wrong team had been picked by the selectors from the off.
Clueless.
Perhaps the Royal Commissioners should just sweep away the Chairman and the Three Wise Men in one fell swoop, and be done with it.
From now on, it’s me and you who pick the team, OK?
Nothing like it when yr bowling attack goes completely haywire.
I’m reluctant to bring my 84 year old mother into this, but she said to me on the phone “we are completely buggered aren’t we?” after watching the thing on the television all day as it went “on, and on, and on, and on….”
There’s been talk of turning up at the ground on the Monday of the Sydney test match.
But even the most rudimentary cost analysis reveals that good seats at the test cricket cost just about as much as good grandstand tickets to the Formula One in Melbun.
WHAT THE??!!
How much does it cost to pay two cricket teams to play?
Astonishing.
At least at Albert Park the beer is guaranteed full strength [and I’d imagine that the top shelf will be available in the two “exclusive” bars that I’ve paid to have access to] and even in general admission at the race track you can get things like savoury pancakes or a bratwurst on a bun with German mustard and caramelized onions to keep you going, and five dollar beers, all at a reasonable price for a main event.
After the last Ashes bonanza, the jokers at Cricket Australia must be the biggest con artists going around.
Give me five bucks in to ICC WWC at Newcastle No.1 Ground in early March, any day of the week.
Pup must be hoping that he’s not required to make much more of a contribution to the test match, while going to sleep smiling, and dreaming about plotting the coup d'état to take the Captaincy off Cap’n’Cockhead just in time for the Ashes tour.
Stranger things have happened.

an Aston Martin V8 Vantage

Wage earners,
On the eve of the Perth Test match and the only thing you’ve been able to read on the back of the fishwraps this past week is one MJ Clarke blithering on about a preponderance of six to twelve month old babies, money, wives, fiancés, girlfriends, bits-on-the-side, pay, pay, pay, never ending travel, outrageous scheduling, burn-out, unreasonable sponsors demands, and how the IPL is going to change the world as we know it forever, even to the point of sounding the death knell for CA contracts [heaven forbid].
Clearly the bloke has far too much time on his hands.
When pressed, the Rt. Hon.Vice-Captain dismissed out of hand suggestions that what he was really saying is that elite cricketers should be paid more for doing less…oh deary, no…
Of course every man is entitled to his opinion but as The Great Ian Healy remarked… “perception is better than the truth in many cases”
According to the Daily Terror [so it must be right] Pup made “$312,200 in match payments in the last calendar year” [that for less than 85 days in the office mind you, and of course doesn’t include his CA contract money and only the good lord joisus knows how much cash he pulls in through sponsorship deals, although the Deputy Commissioner of Taxation would dearly like to know, you’d imagine].
The Terror went on to comment “it was enough to cover the $300,000 he outlaid to deliver an Aston Martin V8 Vantage to his fiancé Lara Bingle”.
A couple of years back Pup’s minders suggested that he lose the Ferrari and get himself a vehicle, any vehicle, manufactured by his sponsor Ford.
He complied, but obviously that advice doesn’t extend to the bride-to-be, and in any case for a man in his position, it’s probably best to be driven about, rather than drive yourself.
There’s no arguing that the kiddie is in fine form; indeed what he’s been doing lately quite likely qualifies as a purple patch.
Didn’t pick up the man-of-the-series award against the sheepshaggers for nothing.
After finding some touch on the sub-continent, his streaky 98 in Brisbane after being called on to save the test match counts as one of his best test match innings, while his well made chanceless 110 in Adelaide just put the issue of a favourable result beyond doubt.
Always mindful of the match situation, as is only right for any wannabe skipper.
But, after being felled in the WACA nets by a sharp one that hit him under the heart, the Seth Efreakens on a treacherous pitch out West will be a different bottle of mussels altogether.

Dave Warner from The Suburbs

Spectators,

It’s not every day of the week that you wander into Hurstville Oval and by complete chance happen to witness one of the finest one-day hundreds that you would ever want to see.
The old ground is just as it was a few seasons back now, when me and the children attended our first ever Twenty20 game between two scratch NSW XI’s the week before Christmas because they had nothing else to do,
Now though, the eastern skyline is dominated by cranes and massive blocks of flats going up.
Went through the turnstiles at half time on Saturday afternoon, thinking Tasmania’s 246 off 45 overs after an early rain delay looked defendable, but wasn’t counting on the very small, perfectly circular nature of the oval, with the old velodrome running around the boundary.
It has fallen into a sad state of disrepair, and while some attempts have been made to repair the cracks, you wouldn’t want to race high-performance push bikes around there much anymore.
It seemed like they had rolled out a gorgeous batting track, and the first thing seen on entering the ground was David Warner punching a huge six off the back foot over cover, as if using a number three wood as the driver, that was still on the up as it cleared the perimeter fence, and would have dead set landed in someone’s front yard in Timothy Street.
They sent out a posse of children to look for the ball, but don’t know that they ever found it.
Dave “Suburban Boy” Warner is a solid, compact left hander, who appears to be made for the one-day game as an opening pinch hitter.
He’ll be a sensation in Twenty20,
Warner and Hughes put on 0/48 in the first five overs – which prompted a punter at the bar to remark to me “mate, look at this, this is going to be a carve up!”
How right he was.
Warner, in all, tonked nine sixes, including a corker from the northern end that sailed over the Ray Lindwall Sightscreen [Hurstville has a curious tradition of naming the sightscreens after famous local players – the Bill O’Reilly Sightscreen is at the other end] and landed on the pavilion roof and stayed there.
They sent some boy shimmying up a drain pipe to retrieve it.
Dave simply collared a fair half way decent bowling attack that featured the likes of Hilfenhaus & Dighton, among others, neck and crop.
In the over before bringing up his ton, he pulled three consecutive sixes over mid wicket off Marsh; all three clearing the bike track, and the picket fence.
And this from a 21 year old kiddie who only a couple of weeks ago on interview with some ratbag journo was quoted as saying something along the lines of “the likes of the Ricky Ponting’s of this world are finished. It’s time to let young blokes step up and have a go”.
As you can imagine, this raised some eyebrows in certain circles.
But it didn’t stop Dave, who ended up pummeling a chanceless 165 not out to win the game by nine wickets, with plenty of overs in hand.
When he got to his hundred, he had scored 80+ from boundaries.
He called for a runner on 145, when it appeared that he had cramped up so badly, that he had done himself a mischief.
There appeared to be a few hundred in, scattered around the ground, but for the first time in a long time, they actually published an official crowd figure, which was posted at 1,250.
Obviously, there was no pressure on the hospitality tents that had been nicely set up by the St George Cricket Club.
The Carlton Draught served off the tap that still had “the Official Beer of the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games” logo etched onto it was nice and icy, and completely sensible at $5 a schooner.
There was a rush when they announced that the steak sandwiches were going for half price after 5pm, and that you’d be a fool to yourself and a burden on the community if you didn’t get one.
Had my first close encounter with the elusive The Man and His Dog.
He’d found a choice spot underneath the pavilion balcony and had set himself up in a fold out directors chair.
He was impeccably dressed in a class pair of track pants and sandals, teamed with a stylishly ratty jumper, with no shirt on underneath, and topped with a green and gold Australian cap that looked like it had been rescued from a bin at some Strayan one day game in the 80’s.
His only accoutrements appeared to be a couple of Thermos’s and a pair of field glasses.
Perched on his lap was a very small fox terrier type dog; you know the sort thing, the kind of canine whose head is constantly on the move, with the eyes always darting all over the shop.
It was the epitome of a very nervous dog.
Obviously, The Man has trained His Dog to sweat over the outcome NSW Bluebags games.
Perfect.
Dave Warner beat Rick McCosker’s record one-day score for NSW by one run, with a four, to bring up the winning runs, just as a big thunderstorm was brewing out the back, and umpires Abood & Tucker were happy enough to scurry off the ground.
Asked on interview after the game what it was like, the kiddie was beside himself:
“I can’t believe what I’ve just done. It was surreal out there”.

wise men and fools

Ruminators,

There’s been a fair amount of hue & cry down at my local from wise men and fools about how Simon Katich was so cruelly robbed of the man-of-the-match award in the first test by Mitchell Johnson.
Lots of blithering about how on earth a good first class bowler, but not much more than that, could be rated as best-on-ground, on a pitch that bowlers would like to take around with them everywhere they go, bleating about how easily century’s scored the day before are forgotten, whining about how match winners don’t even get so much as a pat on the back, that sort of thing.
Well, forget all that.
The Motm Crystal Vase should have been placed firmly at the feet of MJ Clarke, for mine.
He was called upon to save a test match yet again, this time very early on in the piece, and answered the call in spades with his first innings 98 - doubtless one of best ever9 knocks - without which New Zealand would have taken the priceless first innings lead and probably gone on to win the match.
Not that it was in anyway an exhibition of craft and style, what with edges through the slips, leg glances gone wrong, balls over the top of short stop, miscued drives that could have easily gone to hand, streaky boundaries aplenty, and what look like half-chances all over the shop.
But he does love the Woolloongabba Ground.
You can disregard the lack of art and grace, there were still a couple of breathtaking shots and given how pale and gaunt the kiddie looked after battling the “mystery virus’ that he picked up on the sub continent; it said plenty about moral fortitude.
Knew exactly what was required from the perils of 3/23 and was prepared, like no one else, to dig deep at the crease for three minutes short of five hours.
In the final paralysis, it has to be rated at least on a par with The Kat carrying his bat, a bit further down the track.
While Pup expressed disappointment on interview after the knock at not reaching the triple figures on account of a complete brain snap brought about by obvious fatigue, that produced such an awfully lazy shot, to see him bowled through the gate, he was very mindful of the match situation, saying first up…
“if you told me at the start of the day that I would get 98, I would have been stoked”.
Not sure that his Captain fully appreciated the magnitude of the contribution, knowing that he had the attack to better the opposition, even though Straya appeared to be a bowler short, and only a couple of bats would have to turn up in the second innings and the featherbed they found themselves bowling on would turn out to be a bed of roses.
Note in passing Bing Lee’s 300th test wicket; a champion effort by anyone’s standards, and his recent apparent attempts to reinvent himself in his old age to try and prolong his career by spearing off the short run for much of the time.
At least, that way, he won’t be chucking his really quick one any more.
In the hose down after the game, you’d have to be left shaking yr head in disbelief, saying why oh why oh why?
Did Roy allow himself to be out on the drink in public, and end up going around clocking blokes.
The Great Siddle must be counting his lucky stars, now that he’ll probably get a run in Adelaide.

the baby baby Blues

Bleacherists,

Me and me mate Trev shambled into the Sydney Cricket Ground on Sunday morning fully expecting New South Wales to complete a regulation win against the hapless New Zealanders.
And so it came to pass.
But did it have to take all day?
Impressed by the 17 yo Josh Hazlewood kiddie, classical upright action, generates some good pace off a relatively short run, has a tip top yorker, and can do a nice inswinger now and then off the seam.
Was at the latrine when he clean bowled Vettori with one, but apparently the nut was an absolute pearler.
Was trying to think who he reminded me of, then thought, ah yes…a young DK Lillee.
The yearling has got a future.
A few of his school mates came into the ground about midday and proceeded to give him a right royal razz from the garden seats in front of the Ladies Stand, which must have embarrassed the poor child no end.
However they were well aware that he was playing first class cricket, and they weren’t!
When he wrapped up the NZ innings in the shadows of lunch to come in with a very creditable 2/23 there was polite applause all round, before his mates went off!
Took all morning to take the five wickets to get the Kiwi’s out, but it was only a matter of time.
19 yo Smiffy also bowled well and turned a few at right angles.
He used to have a most unusual run up that stalled and stuttered mid way through where he almost came to a stop before bowling the ball, but some coach has been onto him and straightened out his run up over the winter.
After lunch, a few crates of booze must have appeared at the back of the NSW dressing room courtesy of the visitors Members Bar tab, with a request to provide a bit of bowling practice for the rest of the day.
As it was, NSW were 2/15 after a full hours play after lunch, chasing 162 to win.
The lone barman in Monty’s Bar took a stake in the ground staff sweep on the time of the winning ball, but began to look nervous when he realized he had taken 4.37pm
New Zealand proceeded to bowl just full of a length on middle and leg and crowd the off side with field, thereby completely strangling most run scoring opportunities, a tactic that they may well employ in the test match, if they have the luck to win the toss and put on a few.
Apart from Vettori, the Kiwi attack looked fairly pop gun to me; the other 19 yo in the pack, Hughes, punched a couple of good shots, before holing out to point, and The Young Muzzie, Usman Khawaja, laboured manfully trying to run singles, but being thwarted by the field, with the Portuguese kiddie Moises “Joisus” Henriques holding up the other end.
There was some talk among stats gurus mid week that NSW had picked its youngest side ever on aggregate age, but it turned out it was the second youngest side ever, after some team NSW had fielded in the summer of 1918/19, when there were simply no adult men around.
NSW certainly looked like a bunch of kids in the field, in stark contrast to the grown men of the visitor’s side who came out field after lunch!
In the end, Smiffy and the wicketkeeper Dan “Fat Boy Slim” Smith combined to put on 83 for the sixth wicket to see out the famous victory just as the shadows began to lengthen ever the ground.
Vettori described the loss as “annoying”, but for the baby baby Blues, they must have been stoked to win a first class game.
Not that it does their Sheffield Shield hopes any good.
There was an extraordinary scene at the end of the match, when you’d expect to see tractors appear on the ground with the covers to lay out over the wicket block, but no, a lone groundsman came marching through the gate with a standard Victa lawnmower going at full pelt. He wheeled it out onto the ground and proceeded to mow the pitch up and down no less than three times, raising huge clouds of dust, in which the lawnmower operator was completely enveloped from time to time.
Never seen such an eerie thing in fading light.
The Man and His Dog were transfixed, as they still sat in the Bradman Stand.

wracked with disease

Between Seasoners,

On the Saturday of the third test match, happened to find myself in the Lord Howe Island Bowling Club for the traditional Saturday night fish fry.
You know the sort of thing; a chilled foaming frostier as you look out over Hairy’s greens, then a bottle of crisp Chablis to follow, as you chow down on great chunks of Lord Howe Island “Greenback” Kingfish in tempura batter deep fried in rice bran oil, with a wedge of juicy lemon and salt, and a token salad.
You know it makes sense.
Good with chips.
As we walked in, couldn’t help but notice that the cricket was playing on the lone television screen in the joint.
As we dined, remarked to The Good Lady Wife, “we’ll look at that, will you, it looks as if my bloke is well on his way to a ton!”
and sure enough, MJ Clarke made it to triple figures to save the game, shutting the gate long after the horse had bolted clean across the plains of Rajasthan after the Debacle at Mohali.
The Chairman and the panel of Selectors have the most to answer for for mine for sending away the wrong team, and then continued with muddle headed decisions to try to justify their original ridiculousness, only to see it all fall in a screaming heap.
When Pup was on 97 the barmaid started fiddling with the remote control to try to tune in the Bledisloe Cup match from Hong Kong from across the Tasman, on account of there were a few rugby people in the club.
The Lord Howe Island Woodhens have provided just the one Wallaby – in the shape of Skeggsy.
Persuaded her to change it back just for a minute or two, and lo, the cover drive and the kissing of the helmet.
Now we can go to pigs rooting in mud, union style, love.
One of the very few highlights of the past few weeks of grisly test cricket, save the Krejza kiddie’s incredible fluke ten fa on debut!
Like scoring a double ton, and then finding yourself never picked again!
No surprise here that Cap’n’ Cockhead decided to save his own bacon in the last.
Why wouldn’t you?
No use being hoisted on your own petard, is there?
If you were The Captain of Australia, you certainly wouldn’t want to surrender the title to the likes of Clarke in a hurry, even if it was for only one match, and even if you knew Pup would do a perfectly good job scattering the chooks at the Gabba, for no good reason at all, would you?
Never mind that it’s further evidence at the disposal of the Royal Commissioner.
Never mind that the Vice Captain came back from India wracked with disease, after feigning general unwellness to get a runner on the last day of the final dénouement.
Never mind that Ponting knows well within himself that he’s now an old man in the game, who has always suffered mightily from niggling injuries.
...and so to the Wooloongabba Ground...
A little birdie is singing that there might not be room for a regulation spinner in Brisbane.
Sorry Jase. Sorry Cam.
All seam attack; play two quicks, a seamer, Roy can bowl anything you want, play Fig Jam too if you like, both handy with the bat as well, with Pup’s very odd left arm dibbly dobblers as a last resort.
Why not?
Cricket Australia sent Symonds a brand new tackle box full of barramundi lures, with a note of apology attached, personally signed by James Sutherland with a “welcome back!” PS, but he wasn’t happy, demanding “where’s me new rods?”

Bless.

Dragging the dead horse over some hot coals

Fellow Aghastees,

No doubt the Royal Commissioner will arrive in Delhi to conduct The Inquiry into the Debacle at Mohali before the touring party does.
Perhaps he should begin by dragging the dead horse over some hot coals to see if any life can be sparked into it.
The Captain, of course, should be the first called to the witness box, and compelled to answer the close questioning of Counsel Assisting.
Followed by every player, including those who didn’t make the XI, followed by tour management and selectors, who of course will be made to answer for their ineptitude.
Everything Punter did on field could be called into question, and Counsel could well start with his decision to put Bing Lee’s nose out of joint by not bowling him in the opening session of day four, just as an example.
MJ Clarke would be one of the few to come out of it relatively unscathed; just as he was in danger of becoming the getting out to the last ball of the day specialist, he fights an honest second innings rearguard action in a hopelessly lost cause for what turned out to be a well made 69, although his left arm dibbly dobblers proved utterly ineffectual [8 overs for the match, 0/34]
The transcript of proceedings will make interesting reading.
As always, the bulk of the blame can, and should be, sheeted home to the Captain, and the inquiry could well find fault with the batmen’s complete failure to come to terms with Indian conditions and Indian blokes who have had those sort of decks for breakfast every day of their lives.
Next will come the selectors for sending away the worst Australian bowling attack in at least a decade.
Pop gun doesn’t even come close as a description.
The fitness of the CA Board should also come under scrutiny for sanctioning the whole shooting match.
The recommendations would no doubt start with putting The Skipper on notice that two more sub-standard, nay poor, displays of leadership could invite the prospect of being relieved of command.
The Commissioner could also recommend wholesale sweeping changes, e.g. Hayden out/Jaques in, White out/Krezja in, Siddle out/Clark [subject to fitness] otherwise Bollinger in, Watson out/Symonds [recalled] in.
Probably wouldn’t make a great deal of difference, but seven days should be plenty long enough to come up with a suitable set of recriminations.

If he didn't say it, who did?

Gibberers,

MJ Clarke, on current form, may be more useful as a bowler rather than a bat, early in the tour!
Fancies himself on Indian decks, and who would after his famous six fa nxt to nothing last time around?
Was fairly economical when Harbhajan “Serial Pest” Singh was giving the bowling a right pasting.
And the nut he got the Dohni kiddie with was a pearler
In the meantime, as the first test looks like meandering to a draw, some fascinating stuff here from Ging Gang Gooly Gooly Gooly Gooly.
Some choice quotes anyone would be proud to own.
But if he didn’t say it, who did?
It would have taken a more creative than usual journalist to make it up.
And the line “hopefully also in the future” just adds to the mystery:

Crik: Ganguly denies tirade against teammates
Cricket India Ganguly
BANGALORE, India, Oct 11 AAP - Indian batsman Sourav Ganguly today denied giving an interview in which he gave his teammates a spray.
In a report published by a Bengali daily, Ajkal, Ganguly was quoted as saying that his omission from the Rest of India team to
contest the Irani Trophy last month was the final straw, but also stated that he was sick of being "humiliated" while lesser players
were given opportunities.
"If there is a gun to your head all the time, how long can you bear this? After all, I have played 400 matches for India. I have
played badly in only one series. Yet every Tom, Dick and Harry is playing in the team," Ganguly was reported to have said.
"There are players who haven't scored in the last three series for India, even for the last one year.
"There are some who have changed their hairstyle more than they have scored for India."
However Ganguly issued a strenuous denial of the comments.
"Reports of an interview in a Bengali daily, published in various newspapers, are false," he said in a statement.
"I have not given an interview of that sort to anyone and hopefully also in the future.
"I will request to you to clarify with me before publishing quotes from other sources."
AAP dfb/tdw

old bad habits

Fellow selectors,

Not what you’d call a very auspicious start to the tour of India.
There were some dark mutterings in some circles mid week that if Punter fails to fire with the bat on the subcontinent and/or messes up in the field and contrives to lose a couple of test matches, the Board might be inclined to think about the tap of the shoulder pensioning him off, and handing the captaincy to Pup.
Guessing a messy transition like that won’t happen in a hurry, especially if MJ Clarke falls into old bad habits.
At Hyderabad it appears that he shuffled back and across, played completely down the wrong line and missed the thing, and found himself plumb in front of middle stump – for the majestic total of 18.
More work required in the nets to get better suited to Indian decks.
The selectors have got the bowling line-up all wrong, given that mystery spinner Bryce “Old Man” McGain is on the first flight back home with a dodgy shoulder, and the Jason Krezja kiddie put in a shocking performance in the tour match, getting belted all over the park by second string batsmen on a six lane highway.
You have to remember Krezja couldn’t get a game for NSW and had to move to Tasmania to get another crack at the first class game.
And he’s also admitted to testing positive to cocaine a couple of years back [although he did call into play the ‘I never done it with a fish, yr Honour’ defence, claiming that some evil doer had put a heaping teaspoon full of the gear into his beer!].
Beau Casson can’t even make the NSW one day-side, but looks like going to India as the third choice test spinner.
Perhaps the selectors should just bite the bullet and send a box of brand new fishing tackle around to Roy’s place, with a note saying it would be OK if he packed it in his bags and took the barramundi lures with him to Bangalore.

You be the judge

Gongmeisters,

Amid all the frightening frocks…Adam Who wins the thing…
while The Goodes Train does next to nothing all year, and clocks a few blokes, and still manages to garner an incredible 21 votes in the Brownlow !!
Go figure ??
Talk about being the Bamford’s pet.
Must be the distinctive mouthguard or something.
To make it more astonishing, the next best Swan, Cap’n’ “ never played a bad game” Kirk scored 12 votes, and Rhino Keefe just 10.
Have the grubs in bile yellow got any concept?
You be the judge.
In the meantime…BBB “Slugger” Hall puts his Sydney home and girlfriend on the market, and gets a nibble from the Western Bulldogs.
But, have they got any players, draft picks, that Sydney would want in a trade?
Drive a hard bargain, Roosy.

some kind of misguided fool

Fellow Mad Monday Revellers,

It’s always gratifying when yr team goes out in the second week of the finals with not so much as a whimper.
As a mate of mine reflected, all we have got to look forward to now is the two page pictorial in tomorrow’s Daily Terror of Mad Monday, heavily featuring snaps of BBB “Slugger” Hall in a frock and a funny hat.
They were the boys who were psychologically damaged.
Keenly aware that that would be even more severely taken apart by Geelong if they miraculously managed to progress; meekly surrendered to Foo-ters-craay.
The ageing list and the seriously inexperienced youngsters found out once and for all.
Never heard SC Roos comment further on his suggestion a few weeks back “that you can only go to the well so many times”.
At the end of the match he just shrugged his shoulders and said of the future “midfielders are probably more important in this day and age than forwards, we’ll have to take a look at that”.
Nice to see Spida eschew the last year of his two year contract, and have the decency and sense to just retire – without any farewell or fanfare.
Undoubtedly realised that he would struggle to make anyone’s 22 if he tried to battle on next year.
Shame that he had to give it away just before getting the Life Membership quota of 300 games, only fell a few short, so some luminary should make an executive AFL decision, and grant Spida an ex-officio Life Membership anyway, on account of just being a champion.
The telegram should read …”you’ve done enough, son”.
If John “Datefinger” Hopoate can be the current heavyweight champion of Australia in the boxing caper, then BBB “Slugger” Hall would have to fancy himself with the knock out punch.
The big fella is made for a mid-life crisis career - just go and clock blokes for a living, Barry.
No one will tell a two time Brownlow medalist when his time is up, the Goodes Train will decide for himself when he stops running, but given the state of his knees and loss of a yard, he’d have to be seriously considering resting on his not inconsiderable laurels and at the top of his game, just quietly; and as for Micky O, oh, oh, what an ornament to the game.
How do you tell your best ever goal kicker that he’d make a sad exhibition of himself if and when he could get back up on two legs and go around again?
Everyone knows that it’s hard, but in the end, there is no room for sentimentality
All year the blokes over 30, mainly the white boys, never got much attention in this blog, on account of they did nothing.
Crouch, Barry, The Bolton boys etc, since when did they ever get a mention?
Tadgh was only playing this year as a favour to SC Roos, who talked him out of retirement last year, so he’ll surely repatriate himself as promised, back to Dublin.
Sensibly, Ben Mathews gave the game away a few weeks before the finals, figuring there wasn’t much future at 29, no point going on when youngsters are snapping at your heels.
Nick Davis Come To Save Us, at 28, has been living in la la land for quite some time now.
Even the Ugliest Man in Football, at the ripe old age of 25, might no longer be able to cut it in the top grade.
It might be sad, but it might also be true.
But it doesn’t really matter that their best wasn’t good enough in the final paralysis, you can count yourself lucky as a fan if you get to thoroughly enjoy more than a handful of games where coach can honestly say “all played well”.
Rhino Keefe for club best, closely followed by Marty Mattner, with the Jolly Giant and Cap’n’ Kirk in the mix.
With another half a dozen retirements looming, how does SC Roos go about reshuffling the deckchairs?
Could be years before the Swans get themselves back into the shape needed to seriously challenge for the Championship.
So we might have to cheerily put up with yet another Winter of Discontent for a few more years yet.
Ah yes…but that’s a long way off…


WESTERN BULLDOGS: 2.3, 6.5, 11.9, 16.10 (106). Goals: Murphy 3, Welsh 2, Hill 2, Eagleton 2, Hahn, Higgins, Lake, Griffen, Minson, Johnson, Akermanis.
SYDNEY: 2.4, 5.7, 5.13, 9.15 (69). Goals: Hall 4, Jolly, Roberts-Thomson, Goodes, Crouch, Bevan
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 42,731.


PS> Well…….
That just about does it for the winter game circuit in 2008.
Won’t bore you further.
Thanks very much for the comments, vitriolic abuse, kind words, argumentative tosh, and suggestions that I might be some kind of misguided fool.
The footy’s been fun.
Of course, the summer game wire might get sparking up again once they start playing some first class cricket.

the smokey for the Brownlow

Match officials,

Maybe there is a bit of bite left in the old dog yet.
SC Roos put in a sterling performance in the dugout, a clinical display really, relying heavily on the “How to Coach Australian Rules Football” manual with particular reference to chapter seven “Wet Weather Football” and the appendix “Why coaching finals football is a different bottle of mussels altogether”
Just make sure you kill them in the hit outs, are first to the breakdown every time, team work the clearances, maintain structure in the forward line, and get your act together in the accuracy of kicks in play.
It’s not a very difficult game.
Interesting that SC Roos kept The Goodes Train, Rhino Keefe and BBB “Slugger” Hall inside the 50 for most of the night – eight goals between your best three forwards will always win you football matches.
Cap’n’ Kirk was clearly best on the ground by a long shot.
The Dalai Lama’s Football representative in Australia probably played the best championship quarter of any player in any team all season.
The bloke just went mad.
It was no mistake that eight goals were added to the tally for the quarter on the back of his effort, and the Swans did what you have to do in finals football, close out and put away the opposition.
Vespremi the Emergency was never overawed by the tremendous finals atmosphere at the ground and put in another good showing after squeezing into the 22 with the Birdman picking up Rhino’s mystery virus.
Rhino Keefe has missed just one game all season, and he’s the smokey for the Brownlow for mine.
Mind you, he won’t take the damnable little gong off the Pontiff’s Seed, but he’ll be up there in the count.
The sort of player who gets noticed by the Bamfords.
Speaking of Bamfords, the comical goal umpiring would have been funny if it wasn’t so laughable.
Awarding behinds as goals, and giving goals as behinds
You’d have to wonder if they weren’t in the pay of the bookies, or perhaps they had a few points margin spreadsheets going and were just fine tuning the result.
Don’t expect that the Bullies will be a push over in week two on the wide open spaces at Headquarters, but South owe Footscray a couple, and the opposition could well be mentally damaged after the right spanking they got last week at the hands of the Hawks.
There is nothing like winning form, all the more so in finals.
Much has been said of the appalling crowd figure, but it’s simple really, Sydneysiders will not under any circumstances pay outrageous ticket prices just to get a wet arse watching a team widely regarded as a spent force.
The marketing boffins at the AFL must be tearing their hair out, given that some fool decided it would be a good idea to have a second Sydney team.
Launceston will just be going…”see, told you so…”

SYDNEY: 1.5, 4.6, 12.7, 17.8 (110). Goals: Hall 3, Jack 3, Goodes 3, O'Keefe 2, Moore 2, McVeigh, Veszpremi, Malceski, Richards,
NORTH MELBOURNE: 4.1, 6.4, 10.5, 11.9 (75). Goals: Harvey 2, Grant 2, Lower 2, Hale 2, Petrie, Thompson, Sinclair,
Crowd:19,127.
[Worst for VFL/AFL finals football since 1924 or 1917?]


Otherwise engaged at the Opera Hoos for the Fathers Day matinee of the Strayan Chamber Orchestra doing Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons, or some such trifle, so yet again missed the entirety of the Tiger’s television coverage from the Gold Coast for the final match up of the home and away season.
By all accounts, Hoddo was given a proper send-off with a very solid win on the back of a last gasp team performance, on account of it hadn’t got into their thick heads last week that they were all playing for contracts with just one shot left in the bolt.
Benji reportedly had another good game against his old nemesis and former team mate That Bastard Scotty Prince, but on Mad Monday he was wrapped up in cotton wool by the Club Secretary, who thrust a schooner of Drambuie into his hand, and told him to have a good hard think about yet again re-inventing himself in the off–season.
Hoddo had a few light beers and a puff on an old pipe, confident in the knowledge that he can now go and pick up his fat pension at Huddersfield without anyone noticing very much.
SC Sheens lurked around on the sidelines, with no shortage of blokes to pour him a beer out of the jug, thinking “let ‘em go and get on it, most of them have tried their best”.
The problem was, their best was not good enough.
A season once again essentially cruelled by injury.
All the name props had had season enders by mid season, and Fulton was gone early, accounting for the entire first pick front row, and the forward pack never recovered from the disarray after that.
The club would have been lucky to play anyone in every home and away game.
Can’t name any off the top of my head.
Lawrence perhaps?
Hoddo, Benji, Farah, Blud Nut, Tuiaki, Johnny Morris, Collis, etc etc all had time out for niggles.
Whoever was running the Wests Tigers web site had the decency and sense to maintain a section called the “Holler for a Marshall [Batteries] Injury Report”, which carefully documented the state of the sick bay under Player, Injury Date, Expected Return, Injury Details.
There were just too many names listed under the Expected Return column with the single word “season”.
It did not help that the team also found themselves carrying a couple of passengers in almost every game, neither did the progression of local juniors who apparently did nothing that warranted them even being considered, let alone picked, for the first grade team.
The Football Development Department would have surely worked out that there’s a paucity of exciting youngsters in the Balmain District and they will have to look further afield.
Apart from the total rebuild required in the forwards, they’ll have to pay good money for a name half back and a talented full back if there is to be any chance in ’09.
But that’s a long way off, like tomorrow always seems to be.
Tenth must be a very disappointing result for SC Sheens, after spending the early part of the season in the top four, and the latter half clinging on for dear life to the top eight.
It just didn’t work out.
Oh well, as we always say in our household when things go wrong, TB Too Bad.


GOLD COAST TITANS 12. Tries: Prince, Delaney. Goals: Prince (2).
WESTS TIGERS 28. Tries: Moltzen (2), Lawrence, Tuiaki, Ryan. Goals: Hodgson (4).
At Robina Stadium, Gold Coast.
Crowd: 20,723.

the loneliest man in the world

General Admissioners,

Decided to take the traditional way to Leichhardt Oval on Friday afternoon; the 445 bus from Canterbury station to Balmain.
[Of course back in the olden days it would have been the other way round from various houses in Balmain and Rozelle. In ’89, lived to close to the old Oval, you could walk there].
Announced my destination on boarding the bus.
“Leichhardt Oval, thanks mate!”
The bus driver looked at me askance and said quizzically…
“What you mean, mate? Where you wanna go?”
Did the quick computation in my head.
“uumm, yeah, Lilyfield will do”
The bus driver’s eyes lit up…
“Aaah! Leeelyfield! No worry mate. That’ll be three buck”.
[There has long been conjecture about which suburb Leichhardt Oval is actually located in. It is certainly not in Leichhardt, and probably not in Balmain. It’s either in Lilyfield or Rozelle.
One thing’s for certain, The Balmain Leagues Club is in Rozelle.]
A half a dozen intellectually challenged spastics got on the bus at Petersham.
There was one bloke with wild bug eyes and a gaping rictus, who was sweating profusely and chewing his fingernails down to the bone.
He was obviously worried about the match result two hours out from kick off.
Felt like telling him to calm down and stop being a burden on the community, but it wouldn’t have been of any use.
Decided that a couple of quiet ones in the Orange Grove Hotel just around the corner from the back entrance to the Oval would be in order.
Jumped off the bus only to find the old pub boarded up, shut, gorn, closed, finished up!
It couldn’t have been closed for that long as the planter boxes were still on the footpath outside, and the chalk on the specials board was still legible.
It used to be a wonderful watering hole.
People from all over the district would congregate there on match days, to enjoy the warmth of the tiny front bar with open fire place, before spilling out onto the footpath to swap yarns, talk shite, dribble and drink schooners of Toohey’s Old.
One or other of the venerable old ladies who’d been to every home game since The War could usually be found holding court there.
A shrug of the shoulders is all you can do when confronted with further confirmation that the glory days have gone away.
Some fast bastard will make a nice killing when the three storey apartment block gets whacked up on the site.
There was no one in the ground – one of the smallest crowds seen at Leichhardt in recent years, after the madness of all those record crowds.
At the Norman ‘Latchem’ Robinson Stand bar I noticed a boy of about 11 or 12 walk past, decked out in full Sharks gear, and wearing a sandwich board reading “Bring back Birdie”.
[For those of you who don’t follow the game intimately, Greg Bird of NSW, Australia, Cronulla fame was on a club suspension for glassing his girlfriend after an all night session on the drink. Apparently that’s de rigueur in The Shire].
Thought about telling the boy he was a sad individual, but then thought better of it.
It was easy to park myself alongside the Good Lady Wife on the little bleachers between the bottom of The Hill and the playing arena, on the 20 yard line at the northern end.
No finer viewing of the game anywhere in the world.
And what of the game itself?
It was one of the most unremarkable, pedestrian, lackluster games seen at the ground in many a season.
Cronulla teed off with a couple of quick tries, and then just patiently waited for the Tiges error, or to force the mistake and draw the penalty, to score again.
Tiges defence was powder puff, with no go forward from the forwards whose hearts were patently not in it, [surprising, given that they all must’ve be playing for contracts] so the backs could hardly be expected to lay anything on.
The Balmain wingers wandered around in circles in a desolately fashion, and both of them would have been lucky to get a touch all night.
There was a small group of Tigers fans, young blokes hitherto not seen at the ground, who herded themselves into a pen at the northern end.
They had a cowbell with them and a drum and stick, and had some pretty good lines with which to taunt the Cronulla cheer squad
Among them “show us yr premiership! show us yr premiership!”
On account of, of course, the Sharks have never won one.
There were emotional scenes after the game had finished; not a soul had left the ground early.
Ten minutes before full time the Tigers Kittens went around chucking hundreds of black, white and orange crepe paper streamers into the crowd to return to the field when The Great Hoddo did his inevitable lap of honour on his retirement from the big league caper after 222 first grade games.
He looked like the loneliest man in the world as he trudged around the sidelines on his own, swathed in streamers, acknowledging the crowd, with tears streaming down his face.
We stood, we applauded, we cheered, we wore our hearts on our sleeve, and threw our streamer at the great man.
We honoured a dead set legend and genuine ornament to the game.
It was up there with best farewells.
It was an end to a day; an end to yet another era.

WESTS TIGERS 6. Tries: Harrison. Goals: Hodgson
CRONULLA-SUTHERLAND SHARKS 32. Tries: Taulapa, Covell, Anderson, Seymour, Kearney. Goals: Covell (6).
At Leichhhardt Oval.
Crowd: 10,766.



Always a good look to give the last opposition of the home and away season a right ten goal football lesson on the march into September.
All the better that it was done without The Blackfella’s or Rhino Keefe.
That can only look good on paper.
The conundrum being that there is no replacing experience, even if you have to forgive the bad knees, dodgy shoulders, and the loss of pace out of the blocks over 20 yards.
Just ask the Vespremi kiddie.
Obviously has a boot on him, and shows promising skills while in play, and wouldn’t have been plucked out of the little leagues otherwise, but as raw as a Japanese radish.
Those who have taken the time and trouble to observe the football at close range might suggest the Swans final game form is illusory.
Taking on the Kangaroos is a good option; that grand old rivalry if you come from Melbourne of South v North [even if, due to the peregrinations of time, South is now north and North is now south!]
If the fishwraps can be believed, looks like the North Melbourne match committee will be putting on Grim Reaper costumes later in the week and taking to the team with a scythe.
A quick glance at the AFL finals system reveals it would have been much better to finish 5th, rather than 6th, as the third round crossover means you avoid Geelong all the way to the Grand Final if you get that far from 5th.
It’s been done before, but you’d have to seriously worry from 6th.
If there was a surprise, and the Swans manage to progress through September, the finals campaign would almost certainly come to a shuddering halt against the Cats in the Preliminary finals.
No flag, no cigar.
Sydney only has two things going for them at the moment.
SC Roos knows how to coach finals football, there is no doubt, and most of these blokes have been there, done that, so you would presume, know how to play finals football.
We live in hope.

SYDNEY: 3.3, 7.8, 12.9, 17.12 (114). Goals Moore 4, Veszpremi 4, Jack 2, McVeigh 2, Malceski, Bird, Richards, Everitt, Hall,
BRISBANE: 1.6, 3.9, 5.13, 6.17 (53). Goals Bradshaw 2, Selwood, Clouston, Henderson, Charman.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 24,076.

A honeymoon in Calcutta

Canine fanciers,

On the eve of the blockbuster Which Bank series between Straya and the Bangers Boyz in Darwin, it seems the Acting Australian Captain has been doing a lot of vowing lately.
Pup has been vowing [ever the diplomat, in private, of course] that he would not be touring Pakistan, thank you very much.
A palpable sense of relief now that the ICC has canned the Champions Trophy.
He’s been vowing to treat the Top End series “seriously”.
He’s been vowing to ignore the Marcus Stresscothick autobiography The Weakness In Me, describing The Murray Mints Scandal as “in the past”.
He’s been vowing not to see a barber before his wedding day, preferring the frisson of his wife-in-waiting performing a No. 3 buzz cut.
And he’s been vowing to sit down with his bride-to-be at the kitchen table and finally nut out the wedding date on account of his cricket schedule over the next 18 moths is “absolutely insane”.
Yet still, as my invitation is yet to turn up in the mail, the date hasn’t been officially published, it seems.
Perhaps Our Lara is having trouble with the colour of the bridesmaid’s costumes.
They will probably have to squeeze the nuptials in between test matches and take a honeymoon in Calcutta.

The Night of the Long Knives

Disappointees,
It’s always something to look forward to, isn’t it?
The weekend where both your football teams simultaneously flush their seasons down the toilet.
It was very ominous when SC Sheens, a man who knows football and men perhaps better than anyone else, said that he “could see it in the players eyes” at half time; the belief that they could rally and win the match had simply gone missing.
Sheens has told the Club Secretary to throw out the abacus, even though there is still a mathematical chance of making the eight, he’s past caring.
He’d been sitting on his post match comments for weeks you would have thought, given their frank and blunt nature.
Ever mindful of the fans – it’s been three full years now since the famous 2005 Premiership Year and the club continues to go backwards -- Sheens has suggested a wholesale clean out from top to bottom, saying, quote unquote,
“Some people will be tapped on the shoulder”.
They will be quaking in their boots, knowing full well that if you are cut by Sheens, then it’s a very black mark on your record, and you can expect your fabulously bloated stipend to be at least halved elsewhere – that’s if you can find a club elsewhere – and you don’t wind up playing suburban leagues for a couple of hundred in a brown envelope in the sheds after the game and a free sausage sandwich.
"I said at the start of the season this is a watershed year for the club. We can't finish this year waiting for potential to happen and waiting for players, even our own juniors, who we thought might go another level, who haven't. It's time to bite the bullet and go look for some players to improve the club.”They can start by dumping all the injured front row forwards, then lose the half backs, and they’ll need to find someone very good to replace The Great Hoddo at full back.
Out of a playing roster of 26, they’d only pay good money to keep a couple of centres and a couple for wingers, for mine.
Let’s just hope the talent scouts have been fanning out across the country, and deep into the South Pacific Islands [surely we can get some big boofy brown brothers on the cheap on the guest workers scheme?].
After the Night of the Long Knives, it’s going to be a very busy off season for the Football & Player Development departments.
At least die-hard supporters can take some succour in the fact that the man in charge is speaking the truth!


WESTS TIGERS 16. Tries: Laurie (2), Ryan. Goals: Hodgson (2).
MANLY SEA EAGLES 48. Tries Hall (2), Menzies (2), S.Stewart (2) Bell, Robertson, G.Stewart. Goals: Orford (5), Matai.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 27,564 (Double Header).




Meantime, over at the Rules club.
The Glory Days are officially gorn.
To drop from a solid fourth after the mid-season purple patch to find yourself miserably clinging onto eighth is more than just highly unsatisfactory.
It seems SC Roos has taken some notice of my rant last week, suggesting that this mob of players has been found out and won’t trouble anyone in September, [1st v 8th at Kardinia Park in week one is likely to be a bloody massacreeee!].
“You would have to say from a neutral point of view that this group has run out … it's hard to go back to the well all the time. There's guys there that have just given everything over the last five-and-a-half years and at the moment other teams are lifting, and obviously we're playing some young kids as well, but our group as we know it, that's been so good, is just not capable of producing the performances they once were”.
Afraid that that’s just Roos stating the bleedin’ obvious, as there’s nothing in those words to suggest, unlike SC Sheens, what they are going to do about it.
Club stalwarts deserve better.
Is there a grand plan?
Everyone should be acutely aware of how notoriously fickle Sydney fans are, they will desert a loser in their droves; club membership numbers will die if nothing is done, everyone will stay home quaffing chardonnay in front of their trendy combustion heaters, and if the boffins down at AFL HQ aren’t seriously re-considering the ludicrous idea of a second Sydney team, then they should be.
The only financial advice that my dear departed father ever offered me was “never throw good money after bad, son”.


COLLINGWOOD: 8.3 11.6 15.8 18.10 (118) Goals: Cloke 5, Davis 2, Anthony 2, O'Bree, Medhurst, McCarthy, Pendlebury, Cox, Goldsack, Lockyer, Swan, Clarke.
SYDNEY: 2.3 4.3 6.7 10.13 (73) Goals: Hall 3, Moore 3, Jolly, Veszpremi, Jack, Goodes.
At Docklands Stadium.

Crowd: 45,570.

a good old fashioned pogrom

Philosophers,

There are now three certainties in life.
Death, taxes, and Geelong winning the 2008 AFL Premiership Flag.
Other teams in the finals mix can pretty much suit themselves, and live in hope of the extremely unlikely event that the Cats will have a bad day at the office on their way to that One Day in September.
The Pontiff’s seed is just far too strong.
It’s no use having seven goals kicked on you in the first quarter.
It’s no use putting on “brave”, but ultimately fruitless fightbacks.
There is no way you can win a game of football against this mob if they kick seven goals on you in the Championship quarter.
It’s no use reducing the losing margin to a ‘respectable score’ at the dénouement.
It’s no use BBB ‘Slugger’ Hall finding some form after spending far too much time in the Sanitorium.
And they got it all wrong from the off if Cap’n’Kirk and My Mate Marty end up with their names on the scoresheet.
SC Roos is trying hard not to appear to be at the end of his tether.
The Swans fielded at least half a dozen players over the age of 30 in this match by my reckoning.
Supercoach Thompson would have told his young turks…”half these blokes should be playing in the veterans league on some suburban oval in the Hills District; just go out there and give them a smack and then run rings around them.”
Whoever signed Spida must have been suffering from a brain aneurism at the time, and to think that until his self inflicted season ending injury, Nick Davis Come To Save Us had been continuing to collect his generous contract money for not trying in the seconds.
Perhaps it’s time for the Swans match committee to make a booking for the Room Full of Mirrors, then have a word or two in a few shell-likes re going forward, and then give the football department some serious cash to attract bright young things with genuine futures to the club, and at last make use of the favourable draft picks available to Sydney.
Maybe it’s just time for a good old fashioned pogrom as far as the aged players are concerned.
“Veterans” be gone; there is absolutely no room for sentimentality in this caper.
They should take a tip from the Eskimo’s, who just push their old folks out of the igloo and onto the ice when they reach their use by dates.

SYDNEY: 4.1, 6.4, 8.5, 14.10 (94). Goals: Hall 5, Moore 2, McVeigh 2, Goodes 2, Kirk, Mattner, Bird.
GEELONG: 7.4. 9.8, 16.10, 20.13 (133). Goals: Byrnes 3, Ablett 3, Lonergan 3, Johnson 2, Mooney 2, Varcoe 2, Stokes, Prismall, Bartell, Gamble, Ottens.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 49, 955.


Once again, otherwise engaged, and missed the entirety of the Monday night Tigers game.
Surely must make the effort to struggle up the hill to Leichhardt Oval for the Sharks match, the last home game of the season, Friday week.
Surely?
Otherwise could be cast as a fool to myself, and a burden on the community.
Seasoned observers at the now tumble down Parramatta Stadium suggest that the Tigers simply didn’t turn up to play and lost the one game they should have won in the win at least two out of the last four to make the finals scenario, badly.
No one played well.
There were even dark mutterings mid week that some players who shall remain nameless for the time being, had had a metal snap, and were thinking of Mad Monday and the team’s end of season trip to Waikiki Beach, too early
All reports suggest it was the Tigers eighth straight loss to the Slippery Eels in a losing streak that dates back to 2003.
Balmain players were probably running around the dressing sheds afterwards with their thumbs in their ears flapping their fingers about and making low hooting noises along the lines of “ooh noo! not another hoodoo!”
SC Sheens is in two minds about how to approach the week ahead, but will probably in the end reach for the large cane basket full of cat o’ nine tails’, and flog them on the training track.
But there is always the associated danger of over-training a team who find themselves on struggle street on the road home.
Nah, bugger it, get out the whips.

PARRAMATTA EELS 40. Tries: Tautai (2), Hayne (2), Moimoi, Hindmarsh, Mateo. Goals: Inu (6).
WESTS TIGERS 12. Tries: Marshall, Heighington. Goals: Hodgson (2).
At Parramatta Stadium.
Crowd: 13,065.

not since the glory days of the Under 15's

Goalsneaks,

Word around the campfire has been that apparently, in reaction to the Swans appalling accuracy in front of goal, SC Roos took The Goodes Train aside at last week’s smoko and told him something along the lines of “now look Goodsey, for the rest of the home and away season, bugger how fit you are, I want you to range around and across the half forward line, go deeper if you want, don’t worry about who the opposition put on you, and kick five goals a game”.
A masterstroke as it turned out with The Train going above and beyond and booting eight!
Adam probably hasn’t kicked that many goals in a game since the glory days of the under 15’s.
More than even Plugger ever kicked against the Dockers.
But you can imagine what would have happened without those eight -- a gigantic tusk up the runter in terms of the top four.
The midfield looked a little feeble for mine with not much go forward as Rhino Keefe had an uncharacteristically quiet night, while Odd Head McVeigh, the most unlikely of footballers, after having a blinder last week and playing in his 100th was not much to be seen.
Freo would have also won easily if it wasn’t for the starch that Mattner and Kennelly bring to the defence, while J.Bolton probably picked up the Brownlow votes that The Train didn’t get
Also pleasing to see the recovering mental patient BBB “Slugger” Hall back to his best – booting the winning goal on the run after out muscling three opponents without the need for the use of the fist or elbow!
See, it can be done, Barry, all you need to do is throw your weight around.
The hardy 15,000 or so fans in the ground on one of the coldest nights in Sydney this winter [took me much longer that usual to find the published crowd figure – perhaps the official book cookers were in the bar watching The Games?] would have been reaching for the heart pills, but in the final analysis, were well rewarded.
Freo supporters are used to weeping into their beers this season.
A crucial escape with the Cats, Pies and Bears to come, and who knows snapping at their heels.
mmmm…will need to beat them all to be any chance of progressing very far in September.
SC Roos must be wondering how do you train a side that’s about to have the blowtorch applied to the belly?

SYDNEY: 2.4, 7.6, 13.8, 17.10 (112). Goals: Goodes 8, Hall 4, J.Bolton 2, Veszpremi 2, O'Keefe.
FREMANTLE: 3.5, 8.8, 10.13, 15.18 (108). Bradley 3, Tarrant 2, Campbell 2, Duffield 2, Palmer, Mayne, Michael Johnson, Crowley, Pavlich, Peake.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 20,846,

Due to shocking scheduling and being required at the office at some ungodly hour, in bed, fast asleep during the entirety of the Tigers match.
However, seasoned observers at the ground suggest the forwards laid down a solid platform to allow Benji Marshall to put in by far and away his best game of the season, scoring a well-worked try in the corner late in the piece to seal the result.
The kiddie’s been stringing a few good games together now, no longer does his dodgy surgically repaired shoulders weigh on his subconscious, getting back to working more through the centres and trying to hide less on the wing.
And its got the point where SC Sheens has enough confidence n the bloke’s kicking boot that he’s told him to have a shot at penalty goal; from anywhere up to thirty yards out, instead of getting yourself bashed up trying to plough your way through a set defence to the tryline.
A rarity now in the modern game.
But points are points, son.
Thought that it was unlikely this season, but at last Benji appears to be earning his considerably reduced contract money, Lord knows, he might be putting his hand out for more if they get to the finals.
And lo, the Tigers are miraculously back in the top eight!
In the rugby league caper, you generally need 12 wins and 12 losses at a minimum to make the finals, 13/11 would get you there for sure, so need to win at least two of the last four.
Should be able to roll the Eels next week, the Silvertails will be a different bottle of mussels altogether, then the advantage of starting against Sharks ten points up at Leichhardt, before the Titans away.
While there’s hope…
Abacus remains where the club secretary left it last time.

ST GEORGE ILLAWARRA DRAGONS 10. Tries: Morris. Goals: Soward (3).
WESTS TIGERS 18. Tries: Ryan, Marshall. Goals: Marshall (5).
At Wollongong Stadium.
Crowd: 14,207.

the twilight zone

Impressionists,

Can imagine SC Roos at training on Tuesday morning, the day after the smoko, handing out ruled exercise books and blunt pencils to the players.
SC Roos: “Now I want you to write out the following lines 25 times”
It is very hard to win a game of Australian Rules Football when you have eight goals kicked on you in the second quarter before you can manage a reply”
It is very hard to win a game of Australian Rules Football when 65 minutes elapse from kicking one goal to the next
It is very hard to win a game of Australian Rules Football when you miss five set shots at goal inside 50 in the Championship Quarter”
After that task has been completed, the assistant coaches drag huge bags stuffed full of footies onto the paddock.
SC Roos, pointing: “now see those big sticks over there? They’re the ones you want, ok?”
Coach walks away in a huff, throws the coaches ledger into the mud for some minion to pick up, and then gets in his car and drives away.
Its all very well to be done over by 16 points in a game you should have won comfortably, and it was yet another case of they only have themselves to blame, but St Paul would have taken the position that even though he had washed his hands of it, it still reflected badly on the coach.
Not much more to be said about a game of football apart from the fact that Odd Head McVeigh was probably best on ground in a losing team.
Half a million kicks and hand balls and six goals kind of tells the story.
Rhino Keefe played strong throughout and had a blinder in the championship quarter, toiled manfully trying to set up his useless forwards, all to no avail.
By the time they cottoned on to kicking long or sending in the bomb to their marquee player standing at full forward, it was too late.
BB Barry ‘Slugger” Hall “came alive” after half time – are you still allowed to put things up yr nose at the long break?
After he’d pleaded to the Bamfords, and being turned down for three free kicks in a row, the television commentary suggested in a sense of urgency -- ”oh no, it looks like Barry is about to lose his banana”.
Thankfully he never did, and had it about his person at all times.
The two rookies, the ones who by definition had never played a game of senior football in their lives, acquitted themselves well enough.
But try as they might, it was all good and done to have a go at playing the ball through the mid field, but with no Goodes to give Magic a happy finish up front, they found themselves ‘lost in space’.
The ageing blackfellas might look like they have lost a yard or two when they are playing, but when they are not there, there’s precious little structure, and even less brilliance in the twinkling of an eye.
Swans football department has always favoured late season away games in Canberra, on account of it gives you practice for the finals on wide open spaces in wintry conditions, given that its taken for granted that the size and shape of the playing surface at Manuka Oval; just as it was at the old Gabba ground with the greyhound track, and just as it is with Newcastle No.1 Sports Ground, is an exact replica of the MCG.
Sure that Betfair would make sure you could get set about Sydney not winning the premiership from here on in, and if truth be known, they are now in genuine danger of dropping out of the top four into the twilight zone that is 5, 6, 7, & 8.
No one ever makes the Grand Final from there.


WESTERN BULLDOGS: 3.2, 11.4, 13.7, 17.11 (113). Goals: Welsh 5, Johnson 4, Boyd, Cooney, Giansiracusa, Gilbee, Hahn, Harbrow, Hargrave, Hill.
SYDNEY SWANS: 5.3, 6.6, 9.11, 14.13 (97). Goals: McVeigh 6, Hall 3, J. Bolton, Brennan, Jack, Richards, Veszpremi, and Anyone Called Trevor.
At Manuka Oval, Canberra.
Crowd:13,550.


Never seen a frame of the Tigers game, again, due to the fact that by some quirk of scheduling they found themselves up against the Other Bulldogs in a match again played simultaneously as the Swans game.
Pulled the wrong reign when I passed up the chance at half price tickets to see the Tigers go ‘round against what should be my local team but isn’t, given that we have lived in the heart of Bulldogs territory for the past twelve years, just two suburbs down from the streets of fear.
My children hate the Bulldogs
Seasoned observers at the ground described it as a display of vintage Champaign rugby league.
Admittedly against a side that’s been completely done in in the head by various things, not to mention the sensational departure of Money Bill Williams.
A sad season that got even sadder for the boys from Belmore.
It’s no good when you are described on the back page of the fishwraps as “shattered”, “demoralized”, & “perplexed”.
Not often that you see a once proud team meekly cop a ten try football lesson in the modern game.
It used to be called a good old fashioned thrashing back in the olden days.
SC Sheens before the match was apparently heard to exhort his players “if you do some of the work in the forwards for yourself against this mob, you might even get yourself a meat pie.”
They went out with coach’s instructions to hit them hard and hit them often in the most vulnerable part, right up the middle of the ruck, which is where everything happens in rugby league.
Some superb work out of dummy half by Farah and Fulton, by all reports, and then, as always, the backs can look after themselves.
In the end it was a very good advertisement for the “mercy rule” with less than ten minutes left in the match.
Why continue to bash each other up?
The trusty abacus is for the moment leaning up against a wall somewhere in the junior recruitment office, given that the club secretary and the coach have no use for it for the time being.


CANTERBURY-BANKSTOWN BULLDOGS 4. Tries: Nanai.
WESTS TIGERS 56. Tries: Gallant (2), Heighington (2), Te'o (2), Tagive, Fulton, Halatau, Marshall. Goals: Marshall (8).
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 16,121.

Worth noting:
The first time this season that attendance at a Balmain match exceeded that of the Swans game.
Thank The Good Lord Joisus that there’s now bigger fish to fry in Beijing.
They won’t be needing turnstiles at the Olympics, on account of the party will make sure that the stands, everywhere, are full to the brim with locals, even if they have to pull them off the street at Lidcombe Station.
Loose the bears on the midgets and let the gaming begin!

a plate of dry biscuits

Viticulturists,

Had a bad feeling in my water about this game, especially given unnecessary sniping and smart alecery that came into the inbox and on the txt mssg mid week from various points along the Murray downstream from Mildura [you know who you are].
In the end it was a very good thing that none of my friend wanted to accompany me to the ground; so ended up on the lounge at home in front of the unblinking eye, with a plate of dry biscuits, and a granny rug thrown jauntily across the knees.
Adelaide, it appears, is one side who long ago worked out how to beat the Swans at their own game, home and away.
Damned good thing they don’t play each other very often.
All you need is a tight defence and one or two strong talls up front and a long kicking game, and you can be confident about winning against Sydney every time.
The kiddie with a surname that sounds like some kind of fatal grape vine fungus kicking five out of eleven goals is a case in point.
Years ago, the Crows were officially installed at the Swans “hoodoo” team.
Nothing’s changed.
You’d have to delve deep into the record books to find the last game when no goals were scored in The Championship Quarter.
Mind you, Marty Mattner appeared for all the world to kick a goal at the 11 minute mark of the stanza, but the vision impaired goal, boundary and field Bamfords all conspired to call it a behind, and only one flag was run up the pole.
When the revolution comes, they will be the first bastards to be taken out and shot at dawn.
No one was counting, but the Swans hit the post at least seven times in the second half by my reckoning, which might go some way to accounting for the 17 behinds on the score sheet.
It was utterly predictable that BBB “Slugger” Hall would find himself all at sea, after his miraculous cure from mental illness; far too busy keeping his fists and elbows out of the action to be of any use at all.
Thought Rhino Keefe had another great game.
He’s the sort of bloke who gets noticed by the Bamfords when he has a blinder, bin playin’ well, could wind up as the smokey in the Brownlow Medal count, for mine.
For SC Roos and the ‘leadership group’ there would have been a fair degree of chin rubbing and forelock tugging at the Sunday morning smoko by the magic waters, with only four points clear in fourth, and the Wild Western Bulldogs to come next weekend on the wide open frozen steppes at Manuka.
With the swathes of spare seats in the stands that were apparent on the television, it’s hard to believe the crowd figure.
Perhaps they were counting all the club members who’d rung in saying they’d found themselves with something better to do.
The only saving grace out of the whole debacle was fleecing my bookie for plenty at $2.65 on Total Match Points: 150 or less.
Given the way both teams play, and the fact that a couple of inches of rain had fallen along the coastal fringes of Sydney in the few days prior to the game, thought straight up they would be lucky to kick 15 goals between them.
It was like taking candy from a baby.
Sweet & Sour.

SYDNEY: 2.3, 4.8, 4.12, 6.17 (53). Goals: Jolly, Ablett, Bird, O'Dwyer, Hall, Mathews.
ADELAIDE: 3.6, 8.7, 8.10, 11.11 (77). Goals: Porplyzia 5, Goodwin 2, Campbell, Gill, McKay, Symes.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 26,260.


Never seen a frame of the Tigers match given that it was played simultaneously with the Swans game.
In any case, finding yourself at the ‘foot of the mountains’ on a bitterly cold Saturdee night would not have been a good position to be in.
You’d need rum.
The cause was not helped by the late withdrawal of The Great Hoddo and the Beau Ryan kiddie, with long standing, well publicised injuries.
Said it before, say it again – season cruelled by injury.
Old time seasoned, shivering, observers at the ground noted that half the team were going ‘round with numbers on their backs that they’d never worn before.
Only goes to show that you are no show without a couple of half way decent front row forwards.
The game was invented around them, and the backs quickly learnt to look after themselves
SC Sheens would have instructed the Club Secretary to take out the trusty abacus.
Just to play around with the beads.
Mid week.
Over lunch.
When asked on interview after the game whether he thought the loss might be terminal, Saint Tim didn’t put any fairy floss on the situation when he replied:
"It's certainly a nail in the coffin. I wouldn't say we're sealed in yet, but we're going under. We just couldn't afford to lose that game.''
Despite both of the top two teams being beaten by lowly unlikely opponents on the weekend, surely any more losses from here on in would reduce the Tigers to the mathematical possibility department of making the final eight.
At this rate, Mad Monday may come earlier than expected.

PENRITH PANTHERS 24. Tries: Gordon (2), Iosefa, Jennings. Goals: Gordon (4).
WESTS TIGERS 10. Tries: Tagive, Laurie. Goals: Marshall (1).
At Penrith Stadium.
Crowd: 14,075.

the best Leb in the game

Your Excellencies,

Another get out of jail card deftly pulled from the pack.
Been saying all year that the Swans need to perfect the art of winning those close away games by narrow margins.
Given that the television coverage on Seven was limited to a two hour highlights package given their commitment to motor racing, found myself back in the Jason Recliner with a brandy sour in hand, and listening to the NewsRadio call of the game.
Rhino Keefe and Marty Mattner were best on ground purely on the number of times their names were mentioned on the radio call, which is always a .always a good indication, with Captain “never played a bad game” Kirk an honourable second best.
Who would’ve picked Odd Head McVeigh as a goal kicker in his old age?
SC Roos’ very rare fearsome spray at the players at three quarter time, along the lines of “if you lose this one you can all go and stew in your own juice, and you can count me out” was noted by some long time sages at the ground and passed on to the commentators
It must have got the lads going in the final quarter as they were almost run over in the shadows of the post.
It’s not often that you can use the word “pulsating” to described a half of modern Australian Rules football, but after a stellar Championship Quarter, to take a couple of goals lead at the start of the last quarter, see that pegged back, go again on the last legs for what looked like a match winning lead, and then have two goals kicked on you in the last few minutes of the game to witness the vision of the jaws of defeat opening up once again, only to go out winners when the match was called over inside 28 minutes into the final quarter, after three really long quarters, will do for mine.
The deep mysteries of AFL timekeeping are being kept in the inner circle, and those in charge are determined that they will never be revealed.
Six points clear in fourth on the ladder is a lot better than two, with Adelaide, Richmond and Carlton pretty much gorn for all money.
They should be able to comfortably dispose of the hapless Crows on the hallowed turf this weekend and push that out to ten.
The old stagers at the Crows Club down at Southwark must be saying to themselves “who was it exactly, who let Mattner go?”

CARLTON: 5.5, 10.9, 15.9, 18.11 (119). Fevola 5, Betts 3, Judd 2, Walker, Russell, Murphy, Kreuzer, Fisher, Grigg, Hartlett, Waite.
SYDNEY: 2.1, 8.5, 14.10, 18.13 (121). McVeigh 4, O'Keefe 3, Moore 2, Bevan 2, Jolly 2, Goodes 2, J Bolton, Playfair, Roberts-Thomson.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 38,401.

Possibly the worst first half blind refereeing performance of the season.
First the Bamford puts the young Moltzen kiddie [plucked from obscurity to stand in at full back for the injured Great Hoddo] in the sin bin for what amounted to an innocuous technical professional foul, then failed to call a pass that was a country mile forward that produced Souths first try with the Tigers down to 12 men, and then called a South Sydney try held-up in goal when the video ref, if it had been referred to him, would have clearly called it a Rabbitoh’s try.
Useless.
Luckily, someone convinced him to take off his dunces hat at half time and put on something sensible.
SC Sheens is reported to have used one of his favourite words, “ordinary”, to describe it.
Regardless of being caned in the penalties, Heighington, Blud Nut Gallaway and Robbie [he was described to me mid-week as “the best Leb in the game”] Farah all had outstanding games for mine.
Which only goes to prove the parable that if your forwards are going forward -- no matter what number jumpers they are playing in -- the backs can please themselves.
And they did just that, with Benji putting in by far his best game of the season; bought the kicking boots to the ground and did some fine work with the toe on the ball in general play, and was pretty well on song with difficult shots in front of goal in the absence of The Great Hoddo.
The trademark jink, step and weave are back….putting on two tries for his wingers, including a miracle set play down the blind side involving just a couple of sets of hands and a couple of well timed dummies, and suddenly the try scoring freak Lawrence was away as quick as lightning for 45 metres, tip-toeing all the while within inches of sideline to score in the corner, as the commentator said, alone and unattended!
You can’t coach against that.
It appears that Benji had some kind of epiphany during his Sunday morning ablutions, which can be enough to scare the living bejoisus out of anyone.
He said on interview after the game:
“I was standing in the shower this morning and thinking I was sick of losing the last few weeks. I'd forgotten how good I used to be, forgotten what I can do, and I just thought I'd try and remind myself of how good I can be if I tried.”
Not quite sure what he was saying there, but whatever it was, the faith that he decided to place in himself, worked.
The Pontiff was kicking himself that he couldn’t get to the game, as he was a bit tired and emotional after his morning duties at Randwick. Later realised he’d gone too hard, too early.
But he was happy enough to watch the match on the big screen in the lounge bar at St Mary’s while enjoying a cheeky little pilsner, and subsequently declared it an official miracle that the Mighty Tiges are now just half a win outside the top eight.
Shaking his head, he mumbled something about how forgiving the rugby league can be at times.

SOUTH SYDNEY 12. Tries: Simpson, Asotasi. Goals: Luke (2).
WESTS TIGERS 36. Tries: Ryan (2), Lawrence (2), Tuiaki (2), Farah. Goals: Marshall (4).
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 21,818.