a quiet early snifter

Spectators,

"No sooner had the muddied oafs vacated the playing fields, than the flanelled fools appeared, as if from nowhere...."
Popped my head into the Sydney Cricket Ground this morning in the hope of seeing MJ Clarke make his ton, while all the time thinking don't do this! you'll just jinx him and put the mock on the poor bloke.
Settled myself into the garden seats in front of the Ladies Stand just in time to see Pup play a lovely cut shot, beating the man at a dead-set point, off the hapless TP Macdonald for three, to bring up what must have been his first first class century outside the test matches in many a long year now, much to the raptuous applause of the smattering of members having a quiet early snifter in the Members Pavilion Bar, The Man & his Dog, and the 73 patrons seated in the MA Noble stand for the occasion [yes, with nothing else to do, counted them all, just before lunch].
Although, in truth, The Dog didn't really join in.
Perhaps he's just not a fan of the Captain-in-Waiting?
Then again, the ground canine has never been one to show much in the way of emotion, and has never been known to speak.
Of course missed all the action on day one, with Clarkey on 92 not out overnight, but seasoned observers at the ground did remark over a cuppa out of the Thermos that he smote the ball as well as he ever has done, although "looked a little ginger" in the back region from time to time while running between the wickets.
In any case, reckon Pup got himself out deliberately just before 11:30, having had a good hit for 106 in centre wicket practice, dollying a lollie from BG Drew to give GJ Bailey the easiest catch he'll take all summer at cover.
Probably called out as he it the thing "yours! George!" before trudging his way back to the dressing room to have his back walked up and down on by a four and a half foot Asian woman, before getting in the sauna, then the ice bath, while being beaten with birch sticks.
This, of course, was all in stark contrast to Sunday, finding myself having a look from under the Ol' Fig Tree at North Sydney Oval, at MJC's first one-day game for the Mighty Bleeeews in almost exactly three years.
Appeared to be all at sea for a well made 7, before being called for a run that wasn't there, and unable to stretch out fully, failed to make his ground by about half a bat.
Looked for all the world like a bloke well short of a good net, and obviously not fully fit, as he stretched his back with both hands on the coxyx while waiting to be interviewed by some Foxtel bimbo on the sideline during the game, and then described his back on the live telly as "good, strong".
Yeah, right.
Losing a touch of sleep at night worrying about Shaggers Back -- just about the worst injury you can possibly get -- generally chronic and incurable, and the pain usually doesn't respond to anything short of morphine.
Deeply concerning that the team physio is deeply concerned, not to mention the coach, as confirmed by this quote:
“He’s not an old man, so we’ve got to be very careful that we don’t flog him to death as a 27- or 28-year-old as he is now,” coach Tim Nielsen told AAP news agency.
SPD Smith provided some entertainment, launching the heavy artillery onto the roof of the O'Reilly Stand and hitting five boundaries in a row, and having a very good dip at a sixth to just miss out.
Undoubtedly the hightlight of the day was being present to witness The Great B Lee's last ever spell, before he did his elbow in again.
It was clear to all and sundry that he had lost a yard or two during his enforced lay off since before the Ashes began, and never looked like threatening to get anyone out on a slow, low, early season pitch, resulting in a test comeback looking more like having two chances; none and snowflakes
Did like his quasi-retirement press conference the next day where he carried himself very well indeed and admitted that if he never rolled his arm over again he would "be happy with what I've done."
There is no doubt, Binger is one of the very few genuine ornaments to the game, and had a good innings given his family history to go as long as he did, while belting them down at full pace for his entire career for hundreds of good wickets [although, and sorry to bring this up again, probably chucking his very quick ball, for mine.]
Certainly lasted longer than his rather less well credentialled, but rather more photogenic brother Shane, who you'll recall had a career cruelled by injury, and was forced to give the game away at the age of 28.
Despite the beaut aspect with the oval framed by the huge ancient low bough of the fig tree and a refreshing sou'easterly blowing in off the harbour and wafting in over the Doug Walters Stand, the joint had completely run out of food of any description by the change of innings!
The North Sydney CC's rightly famous steak sandwich stand had sold out and packed up and was gorn by half-time, while every pie in the ground had been bought and gobbled, and people were left wondering if any hot dogs, hamburgers or hot chips had actually made it to the ground in the first place.
Could have been food riots.
Compelled to join the famished, who with ten overs to go, and NSW looking well beaten on account of the openers didn't score quickly enough from the off, made a steady bee-line to the welcome bars of the North Sydney Hotel directly across Miller St.
The hotelier had been given the word from the ground and had the decency and sense to call the cook and open the hotel kitchen early.
Always noice when there's someone there to save you.

ponder fruitlessly

Loyalists,

Having lived in the heart of the Canterbury-Bankstown district for the best part of the last 12 years, there really is nothing more pleasing in rugby league than to see the Canterbury-Bankstown Bulldogs go down in a screaming heap, whip-sawed by the Mighty Tigers, and robbed of what was rightfully theirs – to wit, the JJ Giltinan Shield, aka the Minor Premiership.
Sweet!
Not even the Roosters collecting the wooden spoon can better that.
Strange that once the pressure if off as you know you are gorn for all money in the race for the finals, the Tigers thrash a team with pretensions to lift the Winfield Cup.
Still, the best way to finish off a season in which the boys from down on the Balmain Road were perhaps the toughest team to follow.
So near and yet so far.
Balmain is undoubtedly the best team, in any code for that matter, not to make the top eight – just one point or half a win shy.
The likes of Newcastle etc etc will soon be shown up for the pretenders they are, while the Tiges could have given September a real shake, even without the Human Wrecking Ball.
Indeed, it’s the first time Wests has not made the finals since the Miracle Year of 2005.
But, there is no use in speculating, as all loyal fans can do is shake their heads, ponder fruitlessly on “what might have been”, and down another hospital strength brandy.
All well, it’s only a game.
On Mad Monday, SC Sheens made sure that he personally shouted a beer for every single player in the squad on the grounds that “most of ‘em tried their best”.
All a coach could ask for, really.

WESTS TIGERS 34. Tries: Ayshford, Lawrence, Moltzen, Galea, Marshall, Halatau. Goals: Marshall (5).
CANTERBURY-BANKSTOWN BULLDOGS 12. Tries: Patten, Morris. Goals: El Masri (2).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 17,375.

So there ends the Winter Game wire for another year.
Thanks for all your kind and constructive comments and suggestions, vile invective, unintelligible ravings and drunken ratings throughout the season.
It’s been a lot of fun.
Now, bring on the first class cricket season!

weeping uncontrollably

Old Age Pensioners,

To see on the unblinking eye the images of Michael O’Loughlin weeping uncontrollably as he walked off the hallowed turf of the Sydney Cricket Ground for the very last time as he vainly tried to hide his tears in the collar of his guernsey got me to thinking that there are actually people to which football matters.
It was achingly sad, and yet strangely reassuring that such an ornament to the game had decided to put himself up onto the gilt-edged mantelpiece to be admired forever.
No-one, and that means no-one in the last ten years or more has been more deserving than Magic of admittance to that very exclusive club of SCG Life Members, on the basis of his performances on the ground.
Here’s trusting that the trustees can see their way clear, or perhaps the honour is not bestowed on a black man?
Oh well. Go well ol’ boy; there will never be another Micky O.
Let’s just hope that he meets with brilliant success in his stated retirement aim of extending a helping hand to underprivileged aboriginal kiddies and encouraging more of the really destitute ones to give the game a go in the belief that the stellar heights are indeed attainable.
Did like the interview Magic gave to one of the Sunday fishwraps on the occasion of his 300th, in the ten questions your time starts now format.
Asked “what was the worst thing a coach has ever said to you?”
The great man replied “I had a coach in Adelaide once who once said to me ‘you will never play top grade league football in South Australia’. Funnily enough, I never did. I went straight to the AFL”.
Vale The Great Magic.
All power to his oars.
Jared Crouch looked as he always does, like some kind of muscled up short little tough guy who would not have looked out of place in a small ill-fitting dark suit with Hawaii Five-O sunglasses to match, and a Glock in the footy sock.
Played a heap of games simply on the strength of being Mr Reliable with the added advantage, despite his stature, of being able to scare the living shit out of opposition players as he was running at them full pelt with the aim of delivering a well timed rabbit punch to the nuts.
Will probably go into real estate.
And the sight of Leo Barry, the most unlikely of footballers ever to grace a playing field; not a single rippling muscle on his frame, pecs entirely missing in action, all gangly arms and legs, would give hope to even the most downtrodden.
He’s had the extraordinary luck of being able to ride the gravy train to innumerable free luncheons, trading on his miracle last-second leap to save the 2005 Grand Final.
Good luck to him, and may the toot! toot! continue ever onwards.
Perhaps a campaign should be mounted to rename the curiously titled Kippax-Carroll Dining Room in the Bradman Stand at the SCG the McLoughlin-Barry-Crouch Room.
The trustee’s have a track record in re-naming things at the ground, just ask Pat Hills and Doug Walters MBE.
SC Roos, after that season, would have taken a very low, almost underground, profile at Mad Monday.
Happy to leave all the having fun to BBB Hall.


SYDNEY: 3.4, 6.6, 11.7, 14.8 (92). Goals: O'Loughlin 4, White 3, Goodes 3, Thornton, Ablett, Kirk, Jack
BRISBANE: 3.5, 10.8, 13.9, 15.10 (100). Goals: Brown 3, Sherman 3, McGrath 2, Clark, Harding, Brennan, Austin, Stiller, Black, Polkinghorne
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 27,933.

SC Sheens will go to his grave wondering how on earth it was that Balmain let Scotty Prince go to the Gold Coast a season after the 2005 Grand Final.
At the time, he described the Prince defection, for not that much more money, mind you, as “the worst decision I’ve ever seen in all my time in football. They’ve just ripped the heart out of my backline”.
And doesn’t Prince just love to come back to haunt the Tigers?
Especially when he must rate himself as a half way decent chance of adding a second Premiership Ring to the collection.
Seasoned observers left the ground mulling over the question, and shaking their heads muttering amongst themselves “Our Benji, spectacular try, Best Leb in The Game, two tries, and we still lost the match?????”
The game was a microcosm of all the lost matches through this season.
In it from the outset, well placed throughout, and then opened up like a can of beans in the last ten minutes.
Not hard to see where the coach’s ledger will finish up after he has scratched the final result into the two columns marked “well take our wins” and “well learn from our losses”.

GOLD COAST TITANS 36. Tries: Prince (2), Campbell, O'Dwyer, Rogers, Tagataese. Goals: Prince (6).
WESTS TIGERS 24. Tries: Farah (2), Hanbury (2), Marshall. Goals: Marshall (2).
At Robina Park, Qld.
Crowd: 20,102.

turn on a five cent piece

Loyalists,

Arguably the best game of rugby league football played this year.
And the punters voted with their feet in anticipation, with the biggest crowd seen in Sydney this season for an NRL match, and a home ground record for the Balmain/Western Suburbs joint venture club.
[Although, it’s very very odd that a club which purports to represent all of Western Sydney -- inner, outer and south-western -- should wind up playing home games at a football ground dab smack in the middle of the Eastern Suburbs. What the? Here was a game that should have been played at the Western Paddock aka Olympic Stadium if ever there was one.]
Mighty Tiges looked the goods skipping away to an early eight-nil lead with Our Benji involved in both tries, including that miracle behind-the-back pass that featured on all the highlights reels, but at the end of the day, he left his kicking boots in the boot of his car, and if it wasn’t for Bryce Gibbs, that was the difference between the two sides.
Gibbs had an absolute Barry Crocker, gifting the Eels an eight point try in reply with a penalty for dropping his knees into the back of a hapless Parramatta try scorer, after he scored the try and was well into the in-goal.
What on earth was the bloke thinking? [the judges down at the NRL justice dept couldn’t work it out either, and had no hesitation in giving the fool a two match suspension].
SC Sheens made a fundamental error of judgement in not dragging Gibbs immediately, as he went onto to make more mistakes, and give away at least one more penalty that led to a Parramatta try.
Aint it funny how a whole year can turn on a five cent piece?
The moment Tuiaki went down clutching his leg in agony, had that ugly feeling in my water that it was not only game over, but season over.
[As it turned out the Human Wrecking Ball had busted a fibula and buggered up all the ligaments around his ankle – know how he feels – there will be some rehab involved in that].
Balmain came out of the match, not only dropping from 5th to 10th on the ladder, but with an injury list as long as your arm, and the prospect of winning the last two games and making the finals rapidly disappearing over the horizon.
A footnote on the Parramatta star Jarryd Hayne:
A forest has been felled for newsprint to claim that the kiddie is by far and away the best rugby league player in the world, a dead set freak, a prodigious talent way beyond his years.
That may well be the case, but what they won’t tell you is he’s also probably the dirtiest player in the game.
All elbows, forearms, knees in the tackle, and knows a thing or two about the Christmas hold, the squirrel grip and clotheslining opposition players.
Perhaps the filthiest full-back to take to the park since Garry Jack – and that’s saying something.

WESTS TIGERS 18 Tries: Ryan (2), Ayshford, Morris. Goals: Marshall (1).
PARRAMATTA EELS 26 Tries: Burt, Inu, Robson, Hayne Goals: Inu (5).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 34,272. [joint venture home ground record].


On a picture postcard Indian summer style Sunday afternoon in the Emerald City found myself armed with a hoe down in the backyard vegetable garden, when a head popped out of the kitchen window and yelled “Craves! That thing is doing it again”.
Came up to the house to find the bush telegraph in the corner of the lounge room chattering into life.
Pulled off the tickertape to read:
“Swans stomped on in Championship Quarter. Stop. Beat by five goals plus. Stop.”
Crumpled the scrip in my hand, and reached for a large ice cold beer with the other.
Mad Monday can’t come soon enough.
Some of the kiddies in the side had good games by all reports with Rick Shaw, O’Dwyer and Reg Grundy being mentioned in dispatches, while the Goodes Train would reportedly have picked up a Brownlow vote or two in a losing team [“the umpires darling” and “protected species” is now rated a 6/1 chance by the books to pick up his third Chas Troph. Crikey! Oddsmakers not taking any risks there, are they?]
Seasoned observers at the ground were interested to note that in the first game after the Swans announced the coaching succession plan, SC Roos did nothing at all for the money, and spent the entire game prowling up and down the boundary line like a soccer coach, while Longmire had the head set on and was calling all the shots in the box.
Next season, St Paul will gradually fade to a pinprick of light, before vanishing from view altogether.
The most frightening thing to come out of the game is the fact that Collingwood could win the flag.
Aaaargh!
With Geelong and the Saints both going to pot at the pointy end of the season; the Woods on that performance appear to be entirely capable of beating any other team in the top eight on any given day, and are positioned enviably in an unbeatable third on the ladder.
Perhaps there will be Pies at the MCG for this years Grand Final for the first time in many a year.
A shocking prospect.

COLLINGWOOD 2.3 5.9 10.13 13.19 (97). Goals: Collingwood: Anthony 4, Dick 2, Fraser 2, Wood, Swan, Medhurst, Cloke, Lockyer.
SYDNEY 0.4 4.6 6.7 8.8 (56). Goals: Goodes 3, Barlow, Moore, White, Smith, Bevan.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 54,400.

in the cold light of day

Fellow depressee’s,

Stayed up just long enough to see RT Ponting behave like a fool and MJ Clarke commit cricketing suicide, before draining the vodka bottle and passing out, bleeding from the eyes.
Pup! Pup! Pup! What were you thinking?!
It must have been an abject sight to see the Vice-Captain leave the Kennington Oval with his tail between his legs after suffering from a rare brain explosion, as a mate said, “due for back surgery after carrying the rest of the team for the entire tour.”
The Royal Commissioners are gathering in London as we speak to begin taking evidence on a single term of reference in the Letters Patent – to wit “sheet home the blame”.
Their Honours will no doubt find, in the cold light of day, that the positions of Hilditch and Ponting are now, of course, untenable.
Hilditch for picking the wrong touring party in the first place, and then presiding over a muddle-headed tour selection “policy”, and Ponting for just being a lil’cockhead.
In the time-honoured fashion, the buck must stop at the top.

I’m off to pull a wave over my bonce.
Farewell, dear friends.

Shattered of Sydney.

a different bottle of mussels altogether

Disgruntled clubmen,

On the event bus to the ground, sat across from a Geelong fan in an understated retro Cats top and navy blue jeans, sporting a fabulous bouffant and ridiculously long fingernail extensions.
Waiting for her to pick her nose with one of them, when a pair of tickets to the game were noticed being held in a very nervous vice like grip; she’d almost crushed the chits between finger and thumb, so firmly were they wedged in there.
The quivering anxiety about the possibility of another champion season being cruelled at the last hurdle was etched in her face.
Needn’t have worried so much.
It was an all round fairly miserable night out, if the truth be known.
[But no complaints about the cheap seats; they were the best we’d ever had in six years on the four-game Family Homebush Superpass at $11.65 a ticket – including free Olympic style public transport -- the best weekend entertainment value in the Emerald City by the length of the street -- and it was something of an end of an era, being the last time all the family will go to the bleachers together, given that the eldest is about to turn 20 in a minute; it would be something of an ask to get her in as a child next season!]
The beer was very horrible, flat, barely cold and with a distinct metallic tang, and soon gave way to fair sized cups of a half-decent shiraz out of a bottle at the back of bar at seven bucks a throw.
The pies tasted like they had in them offal that’d been swept up off the factory floor.
No mention of kidneys and livers on the list of ingredients on the cellophane packet, but they were there, nothing surer.
Swans performance was similarly smelly, exuding that special aroma of a sad season wasted like a shot bird.
A cursory glance at the stats sheet reveals of the Swans’ 12 losses this season, apart from this one and the one point loss to the Saints, they have been beaten, well beaten, in every other with a points margin between 11 and 61, with an average losing margin of 26.
Not like it used to be.
Failure to capitalize on a good four goals-to-two win in the Championship Quarter, inability to shut down a down-on-their-luck champion team’s attack, along with an abject display of futility trying to kick a winning goal nearing the end of the final stanza -- all the blood, sweat and tears in the final paralysis amounting to nothing.
You’d have to wonder if the young blokes in the side had been told footy is a hard, cruel game as they hung their heads in the customary fashion after a narrow loss?
Jack Shit was easily best on ground.
A coach killer.
No wonder SC Roos is giving the game away before he goes completely bald.
Welcome to the brave new world, Longy!

SYDNEY: 2.3, 5.5, 9.11, 13.9 (87). Goals: O'Loughlin 3, Mattner 2, Goodes 2, Moore, Kirk, White, Hannebery, J.Bolton, O'Keefe.
GEELONG: 3.4, 6.5, 8.7, 13.12 (92). Goals: Byrnes 3, Mooney 3, Hawkins 2, Johnson, Lonergan, Selwood, Ablett, Corey.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 40,261.


The usual suspects were arranged [or should that be arraigned?] along the front bar at The Local, with a few extra Big Brown Brothers in, as is normally the case of a Sunday afternoon when the Tigers are playing.
Most agreed that Cronulla are arguably the worst team to be turned out on the paddock by any club in this season of mediocrity, which led to some spirited discussion of the impact of the salary cap on the caper.
“the NRL is not aiming to create a competition of equality, but rather a competition of evenness – so no side can be better than the other, or in other words, any given team can be just as bad as any another”.
There was much decrying of the fact that under the current regime, the genuine superstar teams of the not so distant past are simply impossible to put together in this day and age.
“who have the kiddies got to look up to anymore?”
The Human Wrecking Ball had a wow of a game with three tries.
The bloke certainly has terrific explosive pace for someone who’s lugging around a 110kg frame; no one in the caper, big or small, can catch him on the burst, let alone put a hand on him, so it’s easy to see why he is now the season’s leading try-scorer.
There was even talk of lining up Tuiaki against Usain Bolt behind the mobile barrier at Harold Park for a match race over 30 metres.
Much nodding of heads “kid’d go well”.
Our Benji again showed all the skills in his 100th game – there’s just no defending against the “Benji Step”.
The Moltzen Kiddie has been ping-ponged all over the back line in recent weeks and again found himself at full back, and played brilliantly after deciding that the defence would look after itself and all he needed to do was inject himself into the game as an extra centre.
That Pom Ellis was reprimanded a couple of weeks ago for putting in a leg tackle, and almost did it again, before he recalled an old timer telling him “in my day son, a deliberate trip was a send-off offence”.
Ten tries to two, and this from a side fielding a half-back, in the form of Robert Fui, who had never played the game before [well, at least not in first grade].
Lo and behold, the Monday morning spinning of the abacus revealed the Mighty Tiges, after six wins and bye, now in fifth place on the ladder -- on top of the log jam on points for and against.
Gosh!
But the real test against the Eels, Titans and Bulldogs is yet to come.
SC Sheens would be acutely aware that even if Balmain did make the finals, they’d have to beat all those sides again to go anywhere near the season decider.
The Philosopher in the Corner, as is his wont, said nothing during the match, but on the full time hooter was heard to be muttering something indistinct about 2005 into his brandy and soda, before startling everyone with a loud exclamation “September is a different bottle of mussels altogether! You mark my words!”

CRONULLA-SUTHERLAND SHARKS 10. Tries: Brown, Wright. Goals: Covell (1).
WESTS TIGERS 56. Tries: Tuiaki (3), Marshall (2), Ayshford (2), Ryan (2), Moltzen. Goals: Marshall (8).
At Shark Park, Cronulla.
Crowd: 12,982.

as if by alchemy

Merit Makers,

It was pretty obvious to all and sundry from the off that Richmond had decided to throw the game for the draft picks.
And why wouldn’t they? Nothing in the rules at present that says they can’t.
They knew that no one in their right mind would want to do anything to spoil Micky O’s party, and as a result there would be no steward’s inquiry.
Never even pretended to try to cover it up, not even Cuz, who has form trying to cover things up.
Not that Cuz really had to try very hard to play badly – the Iceman is a sad shadow of his former self who won’t be winning the Brownlow again in the near or distant future.
No one ever expected Magic to put in a blinder, just a speccy mark, a couple of goals; that’ll do to pick up AFL Life Membership.
Yelled at a few kiddies to get on with their jobs, and among them Pup Hanebery impressed for the first time [not that he’s had many games] and suggested he could have a future in the big league.
Nobody was more pleased that Magic got to his 300th than his Ol’ Mate Never Played A Bad Game Since I Found Nirvana Kirk and his kinsman the Goodes Train.
If fact, The Train was probably best on ground just to prove the point
At half time, there was a touching pre-recorded television interview that Cap’n Kirk had conducted with Magic in front of the SCG Members Stand where they went through old times and Michael paid tribute to his mum as the biggest influence on his football career and how he wanted to help indigenous kiddies in retirement etc.
At the end of the piece, Kirk gave the Great Man a big bear hug and said “you are better than a brother”, before looking down the barrel of the camera and saying “well, there you have it, Michael ‘Magic’ O’Loughlin, champion footballer, and an even better person”.
Kirk almost flattened Micky with running bear hug on the full time siren.
As my eldest remarked “isn’t that nice” – heartwarming to see that football actually does engender long-term heart-felt friendships -- when “most of it seems to be faked most of the time”.
Wonder if Magic appeared in a specially tailored gold lame suit after the game at the Swans Club in The Cross, or if the Bamfords conspired to give him the three Brownlow points anyway for career long originality?
After being written off as a finals hope a few weeks ago, the one point loss to the Saints certainly cruelling any realistic chance; and yet there remains a mathematical possibility with some pundits still talking up Sydney’s chances of squeezing into number eight [then to be massacred in the first week of the finals].
What chance against the faltering Cats at the Western Paddock Satdee night?
Won’t be any pretending there.
Tickets to the cheap seats are in hand.

RICHMOND: 3.3, 5.5, 7.6, 10.8 (68). Goals: King 3, Deledio, Polo, Rance, Vickery, Cousins, White, Morton
SYDNEY: 4.6, 9.10, 17.10, 18.15 (123). Goals: Goodes 4, White 2, Jack 2, O'Loughlin 2, Moore 2, J Bolton, Kirk, McVeigh, Ablett, Barlow, O'Dwyer.
Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 32,216.

Never did see a frame of the Tigers game as it was played simultaneously as the Magic Memorial.
But by all accounts it was a tradesman like affair, with Balmain bulldozing over the top of the hapless Roosters in the second stanza after trailing 8-6 at half time.
Match descriptions best left to those who were directly involved:
SC Sheens: “We made hard work of it that’s for sure. Overall, my blokes needed to pull the whip on themselves, and they did.”
Best Leb In The Game: “It wasn’t pretty. I don’t think we can be happy with the way we played.”
That said, the try to the Human Wrecking Ball, Tuiaki, was noted among seasoned observers at the ground as one of the season’s best.
Latched onto a perfect cut out pass from That Big Pom Ellis at pace, found his way forward obstructed, put the ball on the toe for a deft chip kick through the defence, ran out over the sideline, then regained the field of play, re-gathered the ball, and scored.
And Farah potted his third field goal in as many matches, this time at the appropriate moment, to put the question beyond doubt.
You can imagine everyone’s surprise come Monday morning when the abacus had totted up the figures to find the Mighty Tiges, as if by alchemy, in 7th place on the ladder!
Five wins on the trot and a bye officially qualifies as a late season purple patch, and if the die-hards are to be believed, it’s already verging on indigo.

SYDNEY ROOSTERS 10. Tries: Sa, Kenny-Dowall. Goals: Fitzgibbon (1).
WESTS TIGERS 17. Tries: Ryan (2), Tuiaki. Goals: Marshall (2). Field Goals: Farah (1).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 16,427.

the importance of being Pup

Canine fanciers,

The importance of MJ Clarke’s knock at Leeds can’t be overestimated.
In fact, when he got out to a lazy shot to a sub-standard delivery, found myself exclaiming, “well bugger me, Pup’s just gone and won the Ashes single-handedly”.
Never mind that he didn’t reach triple figures, by then the England bowlers were toast -- well and truly cremated, put through the grinding machine, and turned into a fine dust.
Sure, all credit to the North Kiddie on another ton, but North is a collector of runs, rather than a scorer of runs, who was expertly managed by Clarke with tip top strike rotation in a 150-run partnership.
You have to remember when Pup arrived at the crease at 4/151, nothing was certain, and after losing the toss on day one, he never expected to be batting anyway.
Would have much rather continued to graze on lamingtons in the pavilion.
On day two, Pup dispatched anything a millimetre outside middle down the leg side with a cracking leg drive, or stylishly pulled away the rubbish to the boundary.
Never troubled for Best in Show.
Carrying a dose of Shagger’s Side Strain would have reminded him he was alive after every stroke, and getting donged on the head is always a good wake up call during an innings, too!
Probably said to himself as he rubbed his forehead “mmm, better keep watching the ball”.
Forget those who will tell you it was a more balanced Strayan bowling attack that won the match – you still need the runs, and plenty of them, on the board.
Of course there are calls for a witch hunt to determine which selector[s] voted against playing Clark No-E from day one at Cardiff, but the Pom batting line up at Headingley always looked terribly terribly weak on paper, with a very very long tail, and so it turned out to be in reality.
No Freddie. No KP. No cigar, Engerland.
It’s as simple as that.

"a bloody point"

Choirmasters,

“A bloody point!” – the melancholy refrain heard for quite a while around these parts after the 2006 AFL Grand Final, when Sydney were beaten by a bunch of artificially beefed up eerily spaced out cokeheads by the smallest of margins.
Jeez, you can even go back to 1978, when a former mother-in-law was heard to chant the phrase in a dazed mantra-trance-like fashion while downing the contents of an entire bottle of sherry and then passing out after Sturt suffered a bloody point loss to Norwood in the SANFL Grand Final in the “Upset of The Century”.
The best performance of the season by far by the Swans, for the worst possible result.
Word on the street is that The Goodes Train took a few of the younger blokes aside at training mid-week and told them “we can beat this mob”, and goddamit, he was almost right.
Probably the only time this year if asked “who was yr best on ground?”, you could honestly reply “all played well”.
Went zone for zone with the Saints in the first half, but if anything, the match only reinforced the critical importance of the Championship Quarter and the fact that class and quality will always win out in the end.
After being in front by a goal after the first two quarters; having four goals to none kicked on you in the third really had the home side’s back pinned to the wall, and despite some heroics from The Train and Magic [in his 299th] the result somehow appeared inevitable.
The long random bomb at the dénouement that dribbled through next to a behind post for the win always loomed as the final outcome.
Ironic wasn’t it, that Along Came A Schneider came back to haunt Sydney by playing a crucial role after the long break with a couple of majors for the Saints?
Here’s a bloke the Swans let go for nothing for “not kicking enough goals, as stated in the contract, and having an attitude problem” who now finds himself as a regular member of a side that remains undefeated deep into the home and away season for the first time in living memory.
SC Roos, not by his own admission, pulled the wrong reign there.
Clearly remember watching the season opener between the Saints and the Swans on television back in March in the Viper’s Nest at the Prince of Wales Hotel in St Kilda during the Australian F1 GP and pronouncing “St Kilda will win the flag on that showing”.
Got a couple of backslaps from locals despite the silly Swans hat.
Nothing has changed my opinion.
And in the grand scheme of things, only five months down the track, the Swans have essentially been reduced to nothing more than a potential nuisance to a couple of sides looking to sweep their way through to the end of September.

SYDNEY: 3.4, 8.9, 8.12, 13.15 (93). Goals: White 3, Goodes 2, Ablett 2, Bird, Barlow, Jack, Mattner, McVeigh, O'Loughlin.
ST KILDA: 4.4, 7.8, 11.13, 13.16 (94). Goals: Riewoldt 2, Schneider 2, McQualter 2, Gwilt, McEvoy, Milne, King, Gram, Koschitzke, Dal Santo.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 27,805.

Noice to see the “bloody point” tables turned on those damnable Silvertails, for a change, in the other match of the weekend.
It was only individual brilliance that allowed the Mighty Tiges to get an 18-nil jump on the reigning premiers by half time, not the least of which was Our Benji skipping away to a 70 metre try without a hand being laid on him and displaying all the trademark skills on the way through.
But it was a very risky gamble of The Best Leb in the Game to pot the field goal with 19 minutes to go.
It more or less telegraphed to the opposing team “we reckon we’ve got enough points on the board, there’s the one point swing, now come and get us.”
Manly took up the invitation with gusto, bashing Balmain from pillar to post in the final quarter of the game of two halves, scoring a few tries and right at the final siren finding themselves about a metre from the home side’s goal, with the line wide open, and the game suddenly over.
As Benji candidly remarked on interview after the match “I’d completely run out of lungs after that. In truth, we were very lucky to win that one”
At last a couple of good players who we had forgotten we had, talking Christopher Hit Man Heighington and Keefy Wranger Galloway here, have finally emerged from long stints in the casualty ward, automatically adding some more steel to the defence, and extra grunt to the forward’s go forward.
Diehards have long memories, and some are foolishly talking up the prospect of a genuine late season purple patch, but SC Sheens, also on interview after the game, when questioned as to whether the pattern of events surrounding the recent winning streak could possibly be a harbinger of the 2005 Miracle Glory Year; complained of being a poor student of history suffering from short term memory loss:
“That year is gone. Last week is gone. This week’ll be gone tomorrow. We’ve just got to keep going. That’s the way we’ve got to think”.

WESTS TIGERS 19. Tries: Marshall, Ryan, Tuiaki. Goals: Marshall (3) Field Goals: Farah (1).
MANLY-WARRINGAH SEA EAGLES 18. Tries: Watmough (2), T.Williams. Goals: Orford (3).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 13,531.

bacon saving

Critics,

Kind of the captains to allow the match to drift along for just as long as it took for MJ Clarke to score his 12th test century.
Could go on & on & on about how Pup is the best thing since bottled scotch, but suffice to say here that he’s the sort of leader of men that you’d want in a fighting rearguard action, when the prospect of defeat would have represented nothing less than unmitigated disaster.
Sensibly took his time to do some serious bacon saving for the 10 other players in the side.
On song with 14 spanking boundaries; never mind that he was all over the shop like a mad woman’s breakfast, offering at least five chances!
Appears you get whatever gong they hand out as the man-of-the-match award these days for nothing going to hand.
Best on ground should have gone to Rain.
Worst on ground, by the length of the street, quietly presented to Rudi, who’s well overdue for a gold watch.
But that’s all history now, with Leeds the undoubted tipping point regards the ultimate fate of the Silly Little Urn this time around.
Seeing that the Chairman and the Three Wise Men have kept their thinking caps firmly under lock and key for the entirety of the tour so far, it’s time to smash the locks and plonk the headwear firmly on the selectors heads, while beating some sense into them with a couple of souvenir stumps.
Even Blindman Bucknor could see the current eleven can’t win it.
Young PJ Hughes to be reinstated to the top order, for mine, with FIGJAM Watson shuffled down the order to five; Mighty MEK to be relegated to 12th man duties [Sorry, Mr. Cricket. The magic has gone for the time being] and MJ Clarke to bat at four.
Manoosh, the better keeper of the two, retains his spot.
Clark No-E comes into the attack at the expense of Killer SIDS, and Bing Lee [regardless of fitness] replaces Joke Johnson.
Straya desperately needs NSW to open the bowling, as they’d be gilt-edged guaranteed to take more than half the 20 wickets needed to win a test match.
Don’t want to keep the cigar in the humidor for much longer.

Ten reasons to dislike Shane Watson

Ten reasons to dislike Shane Watson:

1. Worst haircut in the history of test cricket.
2. Holds every good shot for a few seconds just so the photographers can get a good snap.
3. Stalks other more credentialed cricketers for their place in the team.
4. Manages to get injured while blinking.
5. Once took MJ Clarke’s place in the team, before being injured.
6. Smirks like an Elizabethan court jester.
7. Gets bowled and LBW a lot for a bloke with an allegedly barrel-tight defence.
8. Calls a press conference after straightening out a technical flaw.
9. Can’t win a bet for dinner in the nets.
10. Bowls a lot of rubbish.

spreading the love

My Dear Chairman,

Seems like the tour selectors have been taking some very powerful wild & crazy drugs in the West Midlands if the late mail is anything to go by; viz a viz a hastily cobbled together plan to drop the young MJ Hughes in favour of FIGJAM Watson!!!!
Now, granted, the Chairman and the Three Wise Men have always had this weird obsession with playing The Great Watto at every and any opportunity, but since when has he opened for anyone, anywhere??
Or maybe they’ll just shuffle the batting and pluck some other unsuspecting bat out of the order to open, drop MJ Clarke down to 4, and play Watto at 5 or 6.
Who knows what on earth they are thinking??
Fools!
One certain way to lose a test match is to tinker with the fundamental balance of a team for no reason at the last minute.
Also strong mail from the Vice-Captain that they will persist with Joke Johnson, against all the basic principles of a time-honoured thing known in racing circles as “form”.
And with Uncle Horrie also set be retained as a 4th and 5th day insurance policy, that means just about the only bowler in the touring party capable of striking fear into the hearts of the hapless Engerland batsmen, none other than No-E Clark, will once again be relegated to gin & tonic duties.
Fools!
Not that it all matters that much in the grand scheme of things with little likelihood of any play on Day One:

“Several members of Edgbaston's groundstaff will work on the water-logged outfield through the night, but have privately conceded there is little chance of play on Thursday. Steve Rouse, the head groundsman, appeared to be fighting a losing battle aboard one of the four super-soppers in operation on the playing surface on Wednesday as rain continued to threaten the third Ashes Test.”
Cricinfo.

In the meantime, great to see that Pup is spreading the love, and advertising his wares on LuvFree…
“Free online dating with well-educated boyfriend from Baku, Azerbaijan, Michael Clarke, 29.”

http://www.luvfree.com/profile76242

hibernation time

Fair weather fans,

Rather difficult to keep track of two football teams when they found themselves both playing away games simultaneously in the National Capital.

A classic game of two sides going through the motions, with Sydney allowed to just win in the end to avoid a stewards inquiry.
Only two things of any note to come out of the match were the first away win in 12 out-of-town fixtures [you can blame the Swans problems on that, there and then] and the abysmally miserable crowd figure.
Granted, the Canberra dawn started at sub-zero and the mercury never got above eight degrees on the day and there was a rugby league match in progress across town [but the two codes are by and large mutually exclusive], and it is currently hibernation time in that part of the world.
But struggling to get more than a few thousand in for the nation’s elite comp?
They are kidding aren’t they?
The turnstile staff would be the first to admit that they didn’t have an overly busy day.
Heard in commentary one end of Manuka Oval being referred to as the “café strip end”.
Perhaps that’s where The Man and His Dog got to, and no further, after seriously reconsidering their plans to go to the football.
[“I’ll have a hot Milo for me and a footy frank for the dog, thanks mate. How much is that?”].
No doubt the stats guru’s will be able to come up with the exact dates, but surely it has to be one of the worst AFL crowds, anywhere, in many a year.
If that hasn’t furrowed a few brows at AFL HQ, then nothing will.
And Canberra wants a piece of the Western Sydney action?
Gawd help us all!
{noted in the midweek fishwraps that the Canberra rules people are now crying out loud that it wasn’t their fault and that the AFL are charging a king’s ransom to stage a game and blah, and no one is really interested anyway, and they are now considering downsizing their blah bid to host up to six Western Sydney games to one or two, or none at all, on the grounds that, much like me apparently, they want to have their cake and eat it too}
Couldn’t help but notice that the bitter conditions appeared to have forced SC Roos, who looked like he’d forgotten his coat, scarf and wooly red & white jesters hat, from his favoured customary position on the sidelines bench, back into the air conditioned coach’s box.
After slapping his sides on the way up, he moped about on his feet for the last half hour in the back of the box [probably had a nice cup of tea and a read of the paper when the camera wasn’t on him] while Johnny Longmire was actually calling the shots through the microphone and headset.
A sign of things to come?

MELBOURNE: 1.2, 2.6, 4.11, 6.14 (50). Goals: Moloney, Jurrah, Miller, Davey, Newton, Whelan.
SYDNEY: 3.4, 6.6, 7.6, 10.8 (68). Goals: Jolly 3, McVeigh 2, Moore, O'Keefe, Mattner, White, J Bolton.
At Manuka Oval, Canberra.
Crowd: 7,311.

Seasoned observers at the ground, who have seen the Raiders glory days been and gone, couldn’t come up with any more descriptive words than ‘lackluster’ and ‘pedestrian’ to get a handle on this one.
But as the Club Secretary will always tell you, a win is a win is a win.
Balmain has been pretty well settled for the past six weeks or so with SC Sheens able to get the same motley mob together on the training paddock for the first time this year with no major injury, no one has been caught behaving badly in nightclubs or anywhere else for that matter, the forwards have seemingly got season fit and serious, the try scoring freaks are on song, and the two marquee players are doing what they are paid to do and making a closer inspection of the cash stashed manila envelopes passed to them in the rooms after the game to make sure it all tots up.
A cursory glance at the draw reveals the Mighty Tiges have more or less the perfect run home, a couple of soft touches along with some choice looking bash ‘em ups to sort the men from the boys at the finish.
5th Sea Eagles [H], 16th and stone motherless Roosters [A], 15th and second stone motherless Sharks [A], then 12th Eels [H], 3rd Titans [A], and 2nd Bulldogs [H]
Winning half of the last half dozen, especially the first three on the back of two wins and a bye, could well be categorized as a late season purple patch and they’d probably squeeze into the top eight, while a good result in either of the last two would almost guarantee it and be an excellent test on entrée into September.
You do the sums.
Hope springs eternal for the diehard, who’d never admit the jig is up, until the inevitability of Mad Monday rolls around, as always.

CANBERRA RAIDERS 4. Tries: Vidot
WESTS TIGERS 25. Tries: Moltzen (2), Morris, Tuiaki. Goals: Marshall (4). Field Goals: Farah (1).
At Canberra Stadium.
Crowd: 11,115.

an old fashioned stink

Bleacherists,

Said it before, say it again, there is no finer sight in world sport than running rugby league, and no finer place to have a look at it than Leichhardt Oval.
Couldn’t live with myself if one pilgrimage to the Spiritual Home of Balmain Rugby League this season went begging, so got on the 445 bus to the 2005 Grand Final re-match.
A good crowd in, and as usual, the place was “dripping with atmosphere”
Things did not auger well from the off, with the Tiges conceding a very soft Cowboys try within the opening 45 seconds of the match.
As things began to look grimer, it was fabulous to see an old fashioned stink in the scrum, right in front of me too!
Just like the glory days.
Farah took exception being worked over by his opposite number Anthony Watts in the front row, and broke up the scrum to complain to the Bamford, who ignored him and repacked the scrum, whereupon Robbie took the law into his own hands and began giving Watts a bit of his own medicine; the scrum blew up into a massive stink with Farah and Watts going toe to toe, Farah getting in a couple of good left jabs before felling the hapless Cowboy with a massive right hook, that had him out cold with Farah standing over him, screaming, a-la-Ali.
The crowd, including me of course, went absolutely apeshit.
When the dust settled, the Bamford sent Watts to the sin bin for ten minutes for starting the stink, and then marched Farah off as well for going on with it.
At least the Monday morning league justice system got it right, rubbing Watts out for two matches for being an utter idiot, while the Best Leb in the Game got off scot free!!
After the game, Farah was asked on interview what prompted the stink, to which he replied “I’ve got no idea, mate”.
Obviously subscribes to the school of thought which suggests rugby league and gratuitous violence go like a hand in a glove.
From that moment on, the North Queenslanders were done like a dinner, and the match was never in doubt.
The Human Wrecking Ball scored his customary try much to the delight of the punters, while the try scoring freak Lawrence latched onto a ball that had gone through half a dozen sets of hands before sprinting Ben Johnson-like over 70 metres to plant the ball under the black dot
Something happened almost every time Benii touched the ball, and he ended up a deserved man of the match, with his trademark jink and step opening the Tigers’ account on the scoreboard.
After the break, the Balmain forwards appeared to be powered by the groundsman’s steamroller, crushing everything in their path, with Farah only emphasizing their complete dominance when he strolled over the line untouched late in the game to put the fruit on the sideboard.
At half time, found myself standing behind a bloke in a beer queue who had a young boy, perhaps two years old, in his arms who said something to which his father replied ”no son, were not at the cricket now. We are at the rugby league. See that inflatable Tiger over there? Grrrr, Tigers, that means we are at the rugby league”.
The kiddie nodded his head, but still had a very puzzled look on his face.
Leichhardt, surely, must now be the only football ground in the world still selling ice cold beer in unopened cans at five bucks a throw.
As always, bar staff couldn’t be bothered with silly little plastic cups or fistfuls of worthless coins.
Stumbling back to the bus stop after the game, pleasantly surprised to see the lights on in The Orange Grove Hotel, which was boarded up a few months ago amid fears that it would become yet another anonymous apartment block, but lo and behold, the joint has been reincarnated into – a pub.
Of course, they have stripped all the character out of the joint in another one of those bog-ordinary no-need-for-an-architect paint-by-numbers hotel renovations [a TAB is now where the fireplace used to be], but at least it remains the only watering hole within spitting distance of the ground.
And oh, don’t make my mistake and eat in the new bistro.
Despite being disassociated from local politics since being forced off the Balmain peninsular more than 20 years ago by hideous real estate prices, was not surprised to be handed a protest flyer at the turnstiles:

SHAME LEICHHARDT COUNCIL
Leichhardt Council Mayor Jamie Parker: SENDING TIGERS BROKE!
WONT approve the leagues club development
WONT support immediate Leichhardt Oval upgrades
WONT support more games at Leichhardt Oval
WONT support more ovals for junior rugby league
Tell the Mayor that Tigers belong in the community!

Someone should’ve told the bloke handing them out that absolutely nothing’s changed over the decades.

WESTS TIGERS 34. Tries: Marshall, Lawrence, Tuiaki, Gallant, Payne, Farah. Goals: Marshall (5).
NORTH QUEENSLAND COWBOYS 14. Tries: Bowen, Webb. Goals: Thurston (3).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 18,408.


The defeatist attitude from the super coach mid week obviously permeated from the top down.
How else to explain leading by two goals at half time and then having nine unanswered goals kicked on you in the final quarter?
By then the old blokes had just run out of legs and would probably have played better football if they had appeared on the ground in wheelchairs and had been pushed around by girls in funny nurse’s hats.
Simple fact of the matter was that Carlton took out the giant tusk during the third quarter, and then with two goals in as many minutes at the opening of the final quarter, rammed the damnable thing clean up the Swans’ runter.
Sensibly, SC Roos limited his post match comments on interview to "I'd say it would probably have to be one of the most disappointing games in the last seven years, no question.”
Probably?
No question?
So with the aged brigade gone for all money, let’s just see how the young folk shaped up on the day.
Of the 22 players picked by the Swans, a cursory glance at the team sheet reveals that only six were 22 years of age or younger:
The Veszpremi Kiddie [19]: Outmuscled, outclassed.
Jesse “James” White [21]: One good quarter for a few goals. Then went AWOL.
Kieran “Son of Gary” Jack [22]: Genuine talent. Best of the bunch on a bad day.
Danny “Pup” Hanebury [18]: Schoolboy playing a man’s game.
Eddie “Cheese” Barlow [22]: Solid, if unspectacular, as always.
Craig “Noisy” Bird [20]: Did he play? If he did, got no game time.
A lot of work, a lot of very hard work, to be done there.
Sickening to see Teddy Richards coughing up blood near the dénouement after a clash with that Bad Uncle Fev.
Wound up in hospital with busted ribs and a punctured lung, contemplating a sore and sorry season over, while surrounded by family and friends.
Did Fev bother to give him a call to inquire about his health?
No.
Some deadshits do play the game, don’t they?

CARLTON: 3.4, 4.6, 10.8, 19.10 (124). Goals: Fevola 5, Fisher 3, Kreuzer 2, Gibbs 2, Murphy 2, Judd, Carrazzo, Simpson, Betts, Yarran.
SYDNEY: 3.1, 6.3, 9.5, 9.9 (63). Goals: White 4, O'Keefe 2, O'Loughlin, Jolly, Ablett.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 42,018.

the little paintbrush and the pot of gold paint

Canine fanciers,

Is MJ Clarke the greatest cover driver of the modern era?
The question on everyone’s lips.
Wracking my brain to try and think of a better one, but don’t think there is.
Reminds me more and more of The Great KD Walters as the years press on.
The poise, the footwork, the accuracy, the flashing blade, not to mention the murderous intent, as he puts his head as still as a stone over the ball like Tom Watson at the tee with a No.3 wood in his hand.
The sound of the thwack of leather on willow as it hits the sweet spot, the fieldsmen turned on their heels as the ball glides effortlessly to the boundary, the bowler looking aggrieved when its his own fault, the luscious juiciness of the result, is what got me in from day one.
Still vividly remember the days when he made plenty in the first innings and then smacked a big second innings hundred at Newcastle No.1 back in 2002/2003 with Mark Waugh batting at the other end.
Sublime & sublime.
The quintessential elegance of the cover drive back then hasn’t changed a bit after all these years.
It’s just that the grace and finesse has got better.
Never mind that he spooned a limp-wristed shot to a well laid trap in the first innings, or that he lost his second innings off peg in a flight of fancy to a bog ordinary spinner; in a miserable set of circumstances at Lords, where the dirty rotten cheats at the MCC conspired with the Evil Umpires to rob Straya blind of any chance, at least Pup was one of the very few to hold his head up high as he strode back through the Long Room to see the bloke with the little paintbrush and the pot of gold paint on his stepladder inscribing Clarke, M.J. in gilt on the honour board of test match century makers at the ground.
Just a pity he couldn’t grasp the nettle and go on to become a certified National Hero.
There’s time for that.
Played, son.

the next one to go

Apologists,

No Hall.
No cigar.
Season over.
As simple as that.
Even the supercoach has said as much.
Quite startled to read in the Tuesday morning fishwraps that SC Roos had publicly conceded the likelihood of missing the finals for the first time since 2002 was now a dead set certainty, even though the club is yet to slip into the nether world of mathematical calculations.
It’s something SC Sheens, just for instance, would never admit to publicly.
Then again, if you are turned over by a side of the likes of Essendon to the tune of five goals for the Marn Grook Trophy, there is probably no use in pretending anymore.
St Paul also foreshadowed that the pogrom will be well and truly on in coming weeks as a number of shoulders will be tapped, old crocks will be ruthlessly cast aside, the lame and the crippled will be pushed out of the igloo, more names added to the column headed DELIST, and younger players given ample opportunity to “show their wares in the top grade”.
But what youngsters?
From where?
Wonder what this year’s draft picks are up to?
Are they still injured and struggling through a Melbourne winter in short pants?
The Veszpremi kiddie, who’s had a couple of decent games in the past few weeks, was a draft pick of a couple of years ago, maybe even three years ago, so he’s been a long time coming on.
Noted that Jesse “James” White [who some crazed supreme optimists have foolishly dubbed as the new “white Goodes”] kicked 11 goals last week in the seconds against the mighty Tuggeranong outfit, and is crying out for a game in the seniors, but as for Mike Pyke, the former Canadian rugby “star”, holding some sort of future as a handy ruckman, well sorry, serious students of the game don’t rate him as anything more than having the potential to become an ordinary journeyman.
It’s a long row to hoe when your year is condemned by the main mentor as a write-off just a little way past the half way mark in the season.
Any rookies the Swans are able to pluck out of thin air will be eaten alive by the likes of Geelong and St Kilda over coming weeks, and with an it’s-all-buggered frame of mind instilled in the team by no less than the main mentor, Sydney is now in real danger of becoming a Fremantle-style laughing stock.
With such a defeatist attitude, at Sunday morning smoko by the magic waters, SC Roos, as he gazed out to sea, stroked his chin, and ran his fingers through what hair he has remaining – would have been having a good ponder, and the thought must have crossed his mind “am I the next one to go?”, surely?
Good to see that the club did in fact load BBB Hall into the back of a ute for a single lap of dishonour at the G.
But it came far too early for mine, with the suppurating sores still too raw.
My spy at the ground suggested that Bazza was about as popular as the recently deceased Robert “Dolly” Dunne as his single vehicle cavalcade passed the bays housing the rapidly dwindling ranks of Swans members.
To quote:
“The silence from the long suffering faithful in the stands on the western side of the SCG told the story. Who cares? Fukc off. You let the team down. We need you to be lining up at half forward today. Who cares about past glory? A tear welled in his empty eyes as he was paraded like a sideshow freak. I felt sorry for the bastard. But the Swans couldn't care less about how a broken man feels? Just get out of the Club! Now!”They should have waited for the St Kilda game for Hally’s tribute as he’s probably got more friends at the Saints for leaving the club when he did, than he does in Sydney right now.
Next thing, he’ll be lining up against Aussie Joe “I went twelve rounds with Ali” Bugner to slug it for the Australian heavyweight title at some sort of Rooty Hill RSL club rag tag fight night.
Five bucks in, and all the cheap beer you can drink.

SYDNEY: 4.2, 5.8, 7.11, 10.12 (72). Goals: O’Loughlin 3, Veszpremi 2, Roberts-Thomson, Goodes, O’Keefe, Barlow, Crouch
ESSENDON: 4.6, 8.8, 12.12, 15.17 (107). Goals: Lloyd 3, Winderlich 3, Lucas 3, Dyson 2, Reimers, Lonergan, Welsh, Stanton
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 30,924.

Easiest two premiership points of the year for sitting around and doing nothing.
This Sunday afternoon’s 2005 grand final rematch against the Cowboys at the Spiritual Home of Balmain rugby league, which this year happens to be 11th v 5th, will no doubt be season defining.
Might even make an effort to get on the 445 bus.

WESTS TIGERS: Bye.

Clark, Clarke & Co.

Willowists,

And the hopeless jokes purporting to run the game are seriously talking about four day test matches??
Bah! Humbug!
Bring back timeless tests.
Make ‘em battle it out to the death.
Ban the draw!
Or-Straya made a fundamental fatal mistake before a ball was even bowled in the Cardiff test match for mine, by not picking Clark No-E.
Why on earth would you leave out a bloke who is ideally suited to the conditions, has form on English tracks, heart, hates Poms and loves the Baggy Green?
Unforgiveable.
No-E would have tidied up the Pommy tail on the second morning instead of bleeding 99 runs, and would have won the match for you any time you liked on day five, if only he was asked, instead of seeing a platinum opportunity to take a priceless one-nil lead in a five match series go begging.
The tragedy is that barring anyone completely dropping their bundle, Stuart Clark now probably won’t get a game this tour, and will be condemned to rearranging the tumblers of well chilled gin & tonic on the dressing room silver drinks platter.
Still, no use crying over spilt milk, and in the final paralysis, the Poms have absolutely nothing at all to celebrate as they go to Headquarters.
Pleasing to see that MJ Clarke has left nothing of his talent and technique in South Africa, or at home for that matter.
However he did end up quietly frothing at the mouth about not managing to go on and score a big hundred, when a matter-of-fact ton was staring him in the face at 83 not out.
Suitably booted himself up the arse in the Monday morning fishwraps.
Still punching the cover drives and the classical straight drives, as well as the usual trademark off cutting off the back foot that give the field out there absolutely no chance at all,
while the pull shot off the spinners seems to have come back into his canon for this series.
And why not?
Can be an almost risk free profit on the scoreboard in the hands of a proper professional.
As always, impeccable footwork and seeing the ball like a footy with an eye like a dead fish.
He would have been filthy with himself about the shot he got out to -- for once his footwork deserted him and he found himself shuffling across the crease and then cramped for room by a short ball, only to watch the dolly fly away for a simple chance.
Silly.
Seems Pup has been drawn even closer into the inner circle this series as the board of directors continues to groom him for the captaincy.
Did like him playfully pretending to call the batsmen in well before Punter made the actual declaration, appearing on the balcony with his skipper at all the right moments etc, still, there were some terse exchanges as the Captain and Vice-Captain fielded at first and second slip late on day five and appeared to argue over what eventually became some rather bizarre bowling changes at the dénouement.
Doubt that Pup would have accepted any responsibility for the morning session on day two.
Suppose that’s the luxury to have when you are not actually in charge.
Bring on Lords for another round of the finest sight in world sport – Poms being ground into dust.

murdering someone in the toilet

Teary Hopefuls,

Well, as fearlessly predicted here last week, Big Bad Barry Hall shamelessly hounded out of the game.
A full blown obituary to come on Mad Monday, but suffice to say for the moment that he was an absolute ornament to the game.
Just a few words from one of the few people who really loved the flawed genius, SC Roos:
“As his coach for the past six years I will remember Hally as one of the greatest players to have played for this club; one of the genuine superstars of the game, his ability to be a match winner enabled him to take us to the level of the 2005 Premiership”.
It’s just very sad that he played his final game, in a losing side, on some god forsaken blasted heath in Adelaide, and that there will be no home ground farewell.
Having conferred club life membership on the bloke last year, the least the Swans could do is make the home game against St Kilda his benefit match; drive him around the SCG in the back of ute at half-time to allow his legion of fans to say goodbye.
All gate proceeds to The Great Man.
Watching the game on television on Sunday, it crossed my mind that no one really realised just how important BBB Hall is as the principal spearhead in the Swans forward set-up, until such time as he was banished to the sideline to write out his two hundred lines as punishment:
I will not clock blokes after the three quarter time siren.
I will not clock blokes after the three quarter time siren.
I will not clock blokes after the three quarter time siren.
While Magic tried hard at full forward, The Goodes Train had a quiet day by his standards, and while Barlow, Bolton and The Bird all chipped in from time to time, the absence of the big fella up front almost saw the Swans fall short of kicking enough goals to win.
While Rhino Keefe had his best game in weeks, and Rhyce “Rick” Shaw [who is looking more like a suicide bomber every day with that weird beard thingy under his chin] was clearly the best on ground by the length of the street; it was a pedestrian performance at best against an average opposition, who effectively gave the Swans a free get-out-of- jail card in the Championship Quarter.
Still, the stats guru’s are suggesting that with two teams way out in front, eleven wins might be enough to make the top eight this year.
Now without Hall, that remains a very very tough ask indeed for Sydney on six wins, with eight to play, four away, and St Kilda and Geelong still to come at home
On another worrying matter, seasoned observers at the ground insisted that the crowd figure was outrageously inflated.
Hardly a soul could be sighted in the new Doug Walters Stand, there was plenty of room in the cheap seats, and no one could be entirely sure if The Man and His Dog were even there.
Members who found something better to do, and the trainload of supporters from Blacktown who got waylaid in the Captain Cook Hotel on their way to the ground, must have been counted at the turnstiles, just to avoid the acute embarrassment of posting a crowd figure at the SCG of less than 20,000 for the first time in six years.
It was plain for all to see that Sydneysiders will just not show up to watch known losers go around.
God help the Western Sydney Shamrocks, because no one else will.


SYDNEY: 3.4, 7.6, 11.7, 15.10 (100). Goals: Barlow 2, J.Bolton 2, Goodes 2, Bird 2, O'Loughlin 2, Richards, Roberts-Thomson, Shaw, Veszpremi, O'Keefe
NORTH MELBOURNE: 3.3, 8.5, 10.6, 13.7 (85). Goals Jones 3, Harding 2, Swallow 2, Firrito 2, Hansen 2, Harris, Ross,
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
[Official] Crowd: 21,929.


No sooner than you blame the forward pack for the entire job lot of problems besetting the Balmain peninsular, what happens?
They play a collective blinder.
Admittedly, the forwards only really got going with Robbie Farah winding up as the main turbine in the engine room, with The Best Leb in the Game having his best outing since being selected in State of Origin One.
Crikey, even Ol’ Man Skando managed to barge over for a try, long after the issue of who got the premiership points had been settled.
But, some good old fashioned busting of the advantage line and some deft Farah dummy half work gave the backs some room to play for a change, and as a result the Human Wrecking Ball scored three first half tries without even raising a sweat.
As the Sunday fishwraps put it “Tigers feast on Bunnies”.
OK OK, so the Rabbitioh’s have let in a million tries his year and aren’t near the bottom of the ladder for nothing, but the Tiges now find themselves just four points outside the log jam that is the current top eight, so faint hope remains.
The win was all the more meritorious given that more than half the side was struck down with a gastric flu mid week, and SC Sheens was unable to get a full squad on the training paddock at anyone time, with one bloke or another tucked up in bed with a bucket.
On interview after the game, Benji was asked if he was among the afflicted.
He recounted his dressing room experience just before kick off.
“It sounded like I was murdering someone in the toilet. A few of the boys were pretty freaked out. It was a massive power spew”.


SOUTH SYDNEY RABBITOHS 20. Tries: Capewell (3), Merritt. Goals: Sandow (2)
WESTS TIGERS 54. Tries: Tuiaki (3), Ayshford (2), Payne, Moltzen, Ryan, Skandalis, Gallant. Goals: Marshall (7).
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 14,856.

hounded out of the game

Law enforcement officers,

So, big Bad Barry “never won a Brownlow – and proud of it” Hall puts his hand up for a two week rest on account of clocking some Adelaide fool, who’d been making a nuisance of himself throughout.
No harm in that
Barry’s only crime was that he decided to put on the innocent little love tap after the three quarter time siren.
Unforgiveable.
At least the tribunal saw it for what it was -- a waste of time and effort.
Poor Ol’ Bazza now finds himself between a rock and hard place, after vowing on national television that he was going to clean up his act and couldn’t see how anyone could not benefit from him playing a valedictory year next season.
Now he’s got the Commentariat howling that he’s played his last game for Sydney, or anyone else for the matter.
Straightforward comments like “If I was Roos, I wouldn’t go on with him next year” to inflammatory statements like “well, yes, Hall, just another one of those players who failed to live up to his potential”.
The Great Man even appears to have his coach against him, with quotes like “I don’t know if Hally really wants to play football, whether his mind is on boxing, or on something else, I just don’t know. I will discuss it with him in due course”, “people can retire mid-season, y’know, just ask Mickey O”.
SC Roos could always just drop the bloke to the seconds, as he did with another character with problems -- Nick Davis Come To Save Us -- and then put him in the column marked in capital letters DELIST.
But you’d hope the super coach is better than that.
Despite his public pronouncements, SC Roos among few others, would privately suggest that a negotiated, graceful exit, stage left for the ageing lunatic would be best for all concerned.
The stats guru’s couldn’t help but gloat that BBB Hall has been rubbed out by the tribunal for something like 26 matches over the course of his illustrious career, that’s a season, a whole season they shrilled, more, far more, than any other current player in just about any Australian Football league going.
Surely it’s just another case of an eccentric character being hounded out of the game.
It’s the same in sports across the globe in this politically correct world of ours.
Soon, we will end up with a bunch of footballers who all play the same, look the same, act the same, speak the same, and think the same…like so many footballing robots.
Australian cricket has already gone down that path with autonomons now playing the game, after stark ravers like Roy “doesn’t mind a drink in a crisis” Symonds, TSC MacGill and Long Donger Matthews, just to name a few, were ruthlessly expunged from the caper.
Could go on about it, but back to the match.
How did the Swans manage to contrive surrendering a 25 point half time lead for a three goal loss at the dénouement on the back of a vociferous home crowd with hopelessly biased umpires awarding ridiculous home town free kicks?
Should have done better in making sure the flood gates didn’t open.
Was it the Adelaide hoodoo?
Being scared of winning away?
Inability to put the jackboot on the jugular?
As St Paul says “I just don’t know”.

ADELAIDE: 1.3, 3.4, 9.7, 12.13 (85). Goals: Porplyzia 4, Tippett 2, Edwards 2, van Berlo 2, Stevens, McLeod.
SYDNEY: 2.2, 6.5, 8.6, 10.9 (69). Goals: Hall 4, Mattner, Jack, Shaw, Kirk, Brabazon, Crouch.
At Football Park, Adelaide.
Crowd: 38,064


If SC Sheens hadn’t realised before, that the obvious shortcomings and overwhelming problems of the Balmain pack are probably, even just past the half way mark in the season, insurmountable, he does now.
St George are not top of the table for nothing, and when you are faced with a mob of man mountains playing in concert, as a mate remarked “like a panzer division”, ruthlessly cutting a swathe down the middle of the battle field with the infantry jinking and weaving in behind them with all guns blazing, you know you are in trouble.
There’s no coaching against that sort of heavy artillery.
Thankfully in a season cruelled by injury there is very little blame to apportion, you can only do your best with limited resources against blokes who are too big, too strong, too fast, and too fanatical.
No use having perhaps the two best try scoring wingers in the game on your team when there’s very little genuine go forward from the pack.
No doubt the Club Secretary has by now given the abacus another whirr to a different set of calculations, racked up the salary cap dollar numbers, and wondered out loud to himself, “now, which big brown bastards can we buy for next season?”
At least SC Sheens has sensibly decided to discontinue the experiment with Benji at half-back, given the bloke is a dead-set born centre or five-eighth.
So you can add a new classy half back to the list for next season for that matter, Mr. Secretary.
Paradoxically, the Tiges are just two wins out of the top eight despite being second last on the ladder, so the diehards can live in the faint hope of a late season purple patch, in the sure knowledge that if they made the semi finals by some kind of miracle, they would be slaughtered.
The radio call did make mention of “aaahhh no, just look at that, the Tigers have gone and slaughtered yet another try”.
Nuff said.

WESTS TIGERS 10. Tries: Ryan, Marshall. Goals: Marshall (1).
ST GEORGE ILLAWARRA DRAGONS 21. Tries: Morris, Creagh, Hornby, Sailor. Goals: Soward (2). Field Goals: Soward (1).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 15,211.

let the pogrom begin

Disappointee’s,

However begrudgingly, you’ve got to hand it to Collinwood fans.
From the middle-aged woman attired in rather attractive two-tone black and white knee high boots, teamed with a black leather mini-skirt and this year’s model Collingwood top, crowned with a particularly fine black and white jester’s hat festooned with the buttons of all the current players, to the old blokes with seriously greying hair & beards wearing equally ancient Collingwood jerseys bearing hundreds of signatures that mustn’t have been washed in 30 years, to the half dozen jovially intoxicated Collinwood supporters who had no idea how they had managed to get on the No. 4 event bus in Campsie when they were staying in a city hotel.
More than 30 Magpies supporters buses did the all day drive from Melbourne, only to turn around and go back again straight after the game, in a long all nighter.
They are a class unto themselves.
Swans only had themselves to blame.
Young Teddy Richards crystallized the game with a brain explosion when he gave away a 50 metre penalty in the championship quarter that put the Magpies in their own goal square to snatch back a narrow lead from which they never looked back.
Worse still, earlier, Marty Mattner, playing at full back, kicked out from a rushed behind and only managed to put the ball clean into the bread basket of some grateful Collingwood player well inside the fifty, who returned the favour, played on, and booted an easy goal.
You could go on and on about the woeful sub-standard Bamfording, but why would you waste your breath?
Found myself on my feet agreeing with BBB Hall when he sacked some hapless Collingwood back in a bone crunching ball-and-all-tackle and then stood over him Mohammed Ali style giving him a bit of lip along the lines of “cop that, Sonny Jim”.
But it was about the only time.
Spent the first half shouting myself hoarse screaming “kick long, for gawd’s sake, kick it long!”
The short kicking game and a million hand-balls was always going to come unstuck on a heavy track [it had been raining heavily all day in Sydney, but remarkably, not a single drop fell during the game] against quality opposition.
It was the kind of conditions that Collingwood exploited perfectly with a “kick and hope” policy from the outset.
Didak was probably best on ground, which only goes to show that being run over by a Melbourne tram is no impediment to playing good football.
The stats guru’s couldn’t help but note that the Swans had a club record 418 disposals in the game!!
That’s right, four hundred and eighteen, the vast bulk of which were completely ineffectual.
Cap’n’ “never had a bad game” Kirk and Rhino Keefe had more than 40 each.
Never at any stage did SC Roos revert to Plan B, or if he did, it was obvious the players were taking no notice of him.
[Aside: Interesting that last week St Paul did concede in the press that from time to time, while in his cups, he has contemplated giving the game away himself at the end of the year, as the awful realization sinks in that he is now Sydney’s longest serving coach, given that he has always considered himself as just a “temporary” mentor].
Kirk, along with most seasoned observers, was absolutely furious come the final siren, and personally questioned several players’ commitment on the ground, something he later confirmed to the fishwraps
The crowd figure only goes to confirm that Sydneysiders are the most fickle football fans in the whole wide world, who will have no hesitation at all in deserting a losing team in droves.
In my estimation, at least a third of the audience were Collingwood supporters.
Just compare that mob with the Homebush record for a Swans Magpies fixture set in 2003, when 72,393 decided to go to the football.
You can easily see how a handful of journos, some match officials, a few ground staff, and The Man and His Dog would be just about the only people who’d bother to turn out for a Western Sydney game.
And who could blame them?
The atmosphere on the No. 4 event bus home, full as it was of red and white, was akin to something you might sniff in a dead dingo‘s donger.
Then, lo and behold, Michael O'Loughlin, clearly anticipating and then cleverly forestalling the inevitable tap on the shoulder, marches into SC Roos’ office on Tuesday morning and announces his retirement from the caper at the end of the season, acknowledging that it’s very tough when people in the game who you admire and respect are telling you that you have lost a yard or two.
While a glowing obituary for The Great Magic is for another time, suffice to say here the bloke has been an absolute ornament to the game.
500 goals and most likely 300 games in The Red and The White, well, for what more could anyone ask?
That should be enough to garner the great man life membership to just about anything that’s going, although the small matter of skin colour would probably preclude it from being offered by the Australian Club in Macquarie Street.
Shame.
Mickey O earned “The Great” honorific a long time ago, perches very high up in the Swans pantheon, and has been nothing less than a scholar and a gentleman for the past 15 seasons.
At least, in the final paralysis, he had the decency and sense to call it quits while he was still ahead, get out on his own terms, and put it all down to his mum.
He’ll be further admired for that as he goes around for the lap of honour.
Vale you good thing you.
If other ageing players who shall remain nameless fail to take his lead after what is highly likely to be another inevitable away loss to Adelaide this weekend, then let the pogrom begin.

SYDNEY: 2.2, 5.3, 9.6, 9.12 (66). Goals: Jack 2, O'Keefe 2, Hall 2, Goodes, Moore, Barlow.
COLLINGWOOD: 4.2, 7.7, 9.9, 13.11 (89). Goals: Davis 3, O'Bree 2, Didak 2, Dick, Brown, Anthony, O'Brien, Fraser, Swan.

At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 41,042.



Speaking of fickle football fans, the Tigers match in Melbourne pretty much passed me by, as there were simply better things to do in the Emerald City of a Sunday afternoon.
The Good Lady Wife has even gone so far as to say that she might have lost interest in rugby league.
By the look of the scoreline, they gave it a pretty good shot, but SC Sheens reportedly suggested after the game that the Tiges had been “frightened of the ball” in the second half and were unable to push home what could have been a match winning momentum.
Haven’t received any eye witness accounts of the match at al+l, not surprising really, given that no one was in the ground, so not in a position to make any informed comment.
While Melbournians are well known for turning out in numbers to watch two flies crawl up a wall -- and despite having a former premiership winning team in their midst -- it appears rugby league would struggle to better lacrosse in terms of spectator interest in the Athens of the South.
SC Sheens will, as is his usual custom, eventually get around to marking that one down on the “we’ll learn from our losses” side of the coaches ledger, but the Club Secretary would no doubt by now be dusting off the abacus in the back of the sporting equipment room, seeing that Balmain is just to about to fall into the mathematical realm of making the top eight


MELBOURNE STORM 14. Tries: Cronk, Cross. Goals: Tomane (3).
WESTS TIGERS 12. Tries: Ayshford, Moltzen. Goals: Marshall (2).

At Olympic Park, Melbourne.
Crowd: 10,417