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.
