The Mess in Marvelous Melbourne

Loyal Supporters,

What a relief.
After The Mess in Marvelous Melbourne, my bloke becomes 43rd Captain of Straya.
And not before time.
For gawd's sake.
They didn't give him the captaincy of the Under-19's for nothing, and they knew then that he was already interested in girls.
That was ten years ago, so nothing's changed.
Born leader.
Soon after his first class debut, saw him a Sheffield Shield match at Newcastle No. 1 Ground batting with Mark Waugh when he launched a mighty fine on-drive off some hapless spinner that was still on the up as it cleared the ground's perimeter fence, bounced a few times across the netball courts, and ended up in Mullet Creek.
Lost ball.
Sold on MJ Clarke then and there.
He's currently averaging 21.4 since moving from No.5 to No.4 in the batting order, so must try harder.
Will he bat at 3 in Sydney, or leave it up to Mr Cricket, with the Token Muzzie at 5?
You have to worry about RT Ponting, at his age.
The Board now has a full seven months to give him the tap on the shoulder before the next test in Colombo or Kandy.
There can be no other course of action after losing the Ashes, not once, not twice, but thrice.
Giving the bloke another game on that track record would be difficult to justify.
Having lost all public confidence, it appears highly likely that there will be no dignified farewell match for the Punter.
Even from an ardent critic, have to say that that'd be a pity, but sometimes when the constellations collide you have no say in it.
Cricket is a hard game; the fools purportedly in charge of the caper can be even harder..."thanks for all the fish Ricky, now here's you pension".
Pup only needs to tonk a very large backs-to-the-wall ton in Sydney to silence the critics and seal the deal.
Just treat the bowling with the utmost of contempt and play all the trademark shots off the front foot, and jam the four inches of bat up the Pommy runter, for good measure.
A couple into the top deck of the MA Noble Stand off Swann would be a nice touch.
Can't be too much to ask, surely?

the choice is yours

My Dear Chairman of the Board,

People keep saying that Pup is out of form, some, even calling for the bloke to be dropped for Boxing Day.
Outrageous thinking.
Can't for the life of me see it.
What are they on about?
So, he made a mistake and executed a really dumb shot in the first innings in Perth along with the rest of the top order, and was about to get set in the second innings when he somehow contrived to play on to an ol' fashioned nothing ball, on 20, and then freely called himself an idiot.
Who can blame him?
Never mind that the chronic dose of Shagger's Back precludes him from bowling his left arm dibbly-dobblers; old timers at the ground have been on the bush telegraph saying Michael did do some very handy work at point, throughout.
Can't be faulted in the field.
How easily people forget his second innings of 80 in Adelbrain.
Saw it with me own eyes from the Colin Egar Bar.
Are they trying to hold against him the fact that he got out at a critical match defining moment, for gawd's sake?
Or that Straya only needed to bat for about two and three quarters of an hour on the last day in Flat City to save the game before the deluge arrived?
That'd all be Pup's fault.
GS Chappell appears to think so -- going on his smarmy backlit appearance on Ch9 on the crystal bucket last night -- where he intimated that Clarkey was no longer the pea for the captaincy, and no one was really in the pod.
Really, Greg?
Is anyone in charge?
Then had to back-flip today, re-assuring the general public that MJ Clarke was going to be the next Australian captain, whether they liked it or not; an issue made more pressing by Punter's buggered pinkie.
Could call the weirdo Chappell brother a two-faced-cunt, but won't.
After the Abomination in Adelaide, winning by the length of the street in Perfect Perth was a welcome filip.
One-One becomes the promoters dream, and the opportunity for sharp practice increases exponentially.
The Selectors can meet in the MCG Members Car Park on the morning of the match for all anyone cares, and make no sense at all to anyone; they can do as they please.
So it's up to you.
The choice is yours.
Drop the useless loop, or make him Captain.

ten spinners since TGW

Did note mid week that MJ Clarke has been silent on the matter after declining to the join the recent chatter about the ten players who have been picked for Straya as spinners since the retirement of The Great Warnie.
Probably because he forgot who they are.
And who can blame him?
How easy it is to forget:

Name Tests Played after TGW retirement Wkts Ave
SCG MacGill 4 10 65.10
GB Hogg 3 8 60.13
NM Hauritz 16 58 36.22
B Casson 1 3 43.00
CL White 4 5 68.40
JJ Krejza 2 13 53.23
BE McGain 1 0 --
SPD Smith 2 3 27.33
XJ Doherty 2 3 102.00
MA Beer -- -- --


How many are still playing first class cricket, then?

scenes of unspeakable horror

Fellow Aghastees,

It was like watching a bright beacon as it suddenly, without warning, just disappeared with a final flicker over the horizon, signifying the loss of all hope of salvation.
Found myself on the deck outside the Colin Egar Bar at the southern end of Adelbrain Oval when it happened.
Waiting very patiently for stumps on Day Four with my 100th beer of the day in hand, when KP Pietersen bowled what would have been the second last ball of the day - a nothing ball - and MJ Clarke played a nothing stroke, somehow contriving to put a huge inside edge on it that could be heard resonating around the ground, which short leg duly trousered.
Never mind what happend before or after that moment.
Out for 80. Four down and a long, long way behind.
One brain explosion and it was game over in the blink of an eye.
Just at that instant, Cricket Australia sent me a text message saying "we're officially fooked".
Believed them, for once.
Mind you, did get to see Pup put together a tidy well-made half century between tea and stumps, and that was more than welcome relief after watching The Evil Empire bat for a two full days, and then some.
Still the best exponent of the late cut in the modern game, some lovely work against the spinner, leg side play, as usual, impeccable; the classical on-drive to a vacant field will always give you value for your shots, while he doesn't mind the odd straight hit that clangs into the sightboard.
But it was precious little consolation.
Could, but won't, take you through the Abomination in Adelbrain chapter and verse - nothing good would come of it given the utterly miserable woefulness of the entire experience; the torture was just too hideous.
Suffice to say that after Straya lost any chance of winning in the first 16 minutes of a five day match, the local fishwrap, The Advertiser, was moved to comment in the next day's edition:
"the pictureseque outlook at the Oval and the festive atmosphere of the opening day soon gave way to scenes of unspeakable horror".
With the Ridiculous Little Urn now safely locked up at Lords, surely the Chairman and the Three Wise Men must take the only honourable course of action available to them and sack themselves, after RT Ponting has fallen on his sword.

hammer'n'tongs

Canine Fanciers,

There's something up with Pup.
Maybe playing hurt?
Only had to have had a look at him in the crystal bucket over the past five days.
MJC tried hard all week to hide his humanity.
Always keen on Day One on doing nothing at all in the field, constantly scouting for a position where the ball was consistently not going.
Might as well have stood under a shady gum tree.
Day Two, came out and put together a well made 9 in 81 minutes, before offering a gimmee to the Poms.
Obviously intent on just holding up an end...ran nothing more than a single until Mr Cricket forced him to make a four, all run!
Ambled rather creakily to the crease to make his ground at the end of that.
Spent Day Three on the massage table having his spine walked on by a 4'6" Thai massuese.
Day Four; the only time anyone spotted him, he was dressed in cotton wool at point or cow corner; a good look that.
Then did his best work on Day Five, contriving to grass a sitter at slip.
First he saw of it was when he looked down and it was spinning around on its axis at his feet.
What's more, his second shocker of the match.
Shaggers Back is as good a thing to blame it on than anything else.
A chronic injury in the true sense of the word; longstanding, lingering, loitering, incurable and inadvertedly but seriously aggravated when he started going hammer'n'tongs on Our Lara.
That's when he needed to hire a life coach.
Pup'll end up one day in the Compo Chair, and finish his career in a Jason Recliner.
Will he last long enough to see Punter fail to survive the workings of the razor gang after losing The Ridiculous Little Urn, yet again --- to take on the Captaincy, however briefly?
Do the fools allegedly in charge aka the Chairman and the Three Wise Men have a Plan B for anything, let alone the Ashes or the succession?

the idea of not doing anything

Bleachermen,

It's a funny game, cricket.
On the strength of Sudsy's hat-trick, Bubbles' chances of playing in a test match this summer have just taken a critical nose dive.
Only faint hope is to take a bag in the Shield and replace Joke Johnno for Perth.
But, as it appears, while Cap'n'Cockhead remains as skipper, Poor Ol' Frenchy might as well put his baggy green in a glass case.
Shame, that.
Thought Pup hid himself very well in the outfield today.
Keen on the idea of not doing anything.

safely locked up at Lords

Aghastees,

And so, it has come to this.
Straya drops to fifth in the test rankings, behind, guess who?
That's right.
Engerland.
Poms must be licking their puffy chops thinking they will have us like kippers for breakfast.
The Silly Little Urn safely locked up at Lords, without much risk of being disturbed.

ICC rankings for Test teams:
Ranking Team Matches Rating Points
1 India 34 130
2 South Africa 29 119
3 Sri Lanka 23 115
4 England 39 112
5 Australia 37 110
6 Pakistan 23 83
7 West Indies 21 79
8 New Zealand 25 78
9 Bangladesh 19 7

MJ Clarke certainly had an unhappy time, and could fairly be asked to shoulder much the blame for the Debacle in India; not a lot of centre wicket practice ahead of the Ashes with scores of 14,4,14, 3; managing to get himself stumped in the second innings in Banglaore without even knowing it.
And this at the venue where he made a century on debut.
Pup's test average has now dipped to 48.91.
The bloke is obviously looking for more responsibility than the Vice-Captaincy, so he can lead from the front.
In any other country, there would be an urgently convened Royal Commission, with the Captain and Selectors called as the star witnesses.
But, no, everyone will just continue on their merry way as if nothing had happened..."oh, well, you get that in India"...being the weakest of weak excuses.
Surely, surely, surely the buck must stop on the desk of Straya's Worst Captain in 22 years, RT Ponting?
Said it before, say it again; for how long can Cap'n'Cockhead survive on shaky ground as yet more underpinning slips away.
Warnie, the best Captain Straya never had, was quite right to have a mighty go at the shabby treatment Punter handed out to Uncle Horrie in Bangalore.
Ponting's defence? "what? I didn't do anything, yr Honour, honest".
Precisely the problem.
Lord, save us.

wept openly

Disappointees,

"a bloody point".
As my former mother-in-law used to say.
A bloody point.
Amatuer mathmeticians describe it in football terms as the "slimest of margins".
You can't be done out of playing in the Grand Final by half a point.
And there's only one way to get a bloody point in the rugby league and that's via the courtesy of the bloody field goal.
Not that Balmain didn't use the device to get to the post on more than one occasion during the season.
But still, it's still a bloody point.
The scoreboard doesn't lie.
Can't argue.
Those who drifted into the ground on a whim remarked on how it was such a lovely balmy night for football.
The Olympic public transport system had been cranked up to full scale for the evening and everything - then as now, ten years on -- worked perfectly.
No waiting, no delay, anywhere, anytime.
Magnificent [but will no doubt be topped by Delhi].
Nicely seated in the SW corner just back from the corner flag with a tip top view of the southern in-goal; seats not plated in platinum, but pretty good for thirty bucks.
Found ourselves next to a very vocal Rabid Western Suburbs Fan.
We got on well; me yelling "c'mon Balmain", him yelling "c'mon Wests" or "c'mon Magpies", in the true spirit of the joint venture.
The first half was a curious affair; as the Good Lady Wife remarked drily just before the break "we've been robbed blind in the penalty count, you know" [5-0 as it turned out], then, just as she said it, the Tigers finally got one for inside the ten..
Suddenly its dawned on me why the St George defence is rated so highly -- they continuously play from an offside position with the connivance of the cheatin' Bamfords!
Nice work if you can get it.
And yet Balmain somehow led 12-6 at half time, while looking good about it.
The Dragons are a pretty dirty side too; one of the worst in fact, putting on cheap shots a plenty.
They've not had a terribly good track record down at The Tribunal, as you'll recall.
The deliberate knees into the back of Lote "wot I do guv" Tuquiri, while he was on the ground and defencless, was a prima facie case.
In my day, that was clearly a send-off offence, and yet in this day and age of weakness on the part of officialdom when it comes to clear cases of foul play, the Bamford's attention had to be drawn to the fact that Lote had copped it bad in the back door, by the Bamford upstairs!
Can't abide that.
Lord save us.
As the massive crowd roared with that peculiar sound of a rugby league crowd in full throat; could not help thinking that the forces of evil were conspiring against "us".
Still, there was nothing to complain about heading to the bar at the break.
The pack, as usual, aquitted themselves well, while the backs did enough -- almost -- but it was that sort of game from early on where there didn't appear to be any stand-out Tigers player.
It was always going to be hard to pick a man of the match.
Not looking for heroes, as there were none to find.
The Rabid Western Suburbs Fan spent a lot of the second half warning the Tigers in no uncertain terms about the dangers of allowing the opposition too much field position where they might get into a place where they might consider trying to pot a drop goal.
Everyone's jaw dropped when that strange freak Soward did just that in the 75th minute from a fair way out at a fair angle.
And that was that.
Game Over.
Kaput.
Balmain turned over to receive the gigantic tusk up the runter through no fault of their own.
The Rabid Western Suburbs Fan wept openly on the full-time hooter; there was no way he could hide his humanity or the tears streaming down his cheeks from his convulsive weeping.
It was a pretty raw scene among the sobbing Balmain fans all around, really.
Is this what football does to people??...crossed my mind.
Then we all went home, profoundly disappointed, perhaps even "shattered".
They could have just put "all played well" in the Best: column in the Wests Tigers scorebox in the Sunday fishwraps.
That would've been enough.
In the dug out, SC Sheens could be seen resting his chin comfortably in his hands, showing not a hint of emotion at the denoument.
The bloke is reputed to only ever having smiled once.
He would have -- some time later -- in his cups, scratched that one into the "we'll learn from our losses" side of the Coach's Ledger, signed it off, and closed the book.
Ducked my head into the Front Bar at The Local mid week as is my wont, to be told that the result was met with a general shaking of lowered heads among the afficiandos on the day.
The Philosopher, in a rare outburst, was reported to have railed against the Hare-Clarke-McIntyre-Lewis-Duckworth system as "a complete joke", and left it at that.
As they say in the classics, there's always next year.

ST GEORGE-ILLAWARRA DRAGONS 13. Tries: Nightingale, Smith. Goals: Soward (2). Field Goals: Soward (1).
WESTS TIGERS 12. Tries: Lui, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (2).
Crowd: 71, 212.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.

And so endeth the Winter Game wire for another year.
Thanks for all the outrageous suggestions, crazed comments, cock'd'up criticisms, downright abuse and drunken ramblings...
It's been fun.
There will be the occasional post on the Summer Game wire on the escapades of MJ Clarke and any first class cricket that may be witnessed first hand, so, until then, get a dog up ya.

The Fear

Bleacherites,

Never in doubt.
Even if, yet a-bloody-gain, found my self reaching for the industrial strength heart pills, washed down with a few powerful snifters to stop the damnable thing missing a beat, settle the nerves, that sort of thing.
Not one to unduly bag a beaten opposition, but the Raiders were the least likely in the top eight for mine as they didn't have the overall class across the paddock all season and their young blokes were gripped by the fear of dropping their bundles in front of a gangbusters sell-out record home crowd, and absolutely mortified, when they duly did.
To wit, the Croker Kiddie; one of the most accurate and reliable goal kickers in the caper.
The look on the poor bloke's face when he shanked the penalty goal shot just wide from right in front of the black dot that would have to leveled the match at 26-all and pushed it into extra time, had "oh, joisus, even me mother is ashamed of me" written all over it.
Very pleasing to see Roycey Simmons took the advice to give Benji a wheelbarrow of footballs, to punch through the slot on the training paddock.
He hasn't kicked five from five in a while.
The Tigers have got to where they needed and wanted to be be via the circuitous route under the Hare-Clark-McIntyre-Duckworth-Lewis sytem, remembering that they faced the distinct possibility of being knocked out cold in week one.
There is no doubting Benji is in career best form five years on from just coming out of his rookie kiddie days, and while acres of newsprint devoted to stories about the mercurial brilliance of one man in the Balmain backline have been recycled as fish wraps, not nearly enough has been said or written about the Balmain forwards.
Under-rated, under-valued, though probably not under-paid, but over-performed.
It's been well known for a hundred years or so that forwards win games of rugby league, and backs, as always, can go please themsleves.
Perhaps the Tigers pack is unheralded on account of they do not boast a single huuuuuge South Islander amongst their numbers; only the Best Leb In The Game, a Pom, a few wizened journeymen [some now wearily consigned to the bench], a retiree from time to time in the form of The Great Skando [who, at last, seems to have retired, telling SC Sheens in no uncertain terms, "for gawd's sake, don't pick me this week, coach. you bastard"], a Bludnut and a Refrigerator.
Said it before, say it again, but if Ellis is not the best second rower going around in the comp then they'll be some hat eating going on, surely?
If Farah hasn't got the best football brain at dummy half of any of his contemporaries over the last five years, and yet still can't get a game for NSW; more felt in the gob.
Blokes like Gibbs, Fulton, Heighington are unashamed high class mercenaries, who play for good money, but are loyal to their paymasters to the last.
Galloway is a special head case.
And no-one wants wants a full-on shirt-front from The Refigerator, as you'd probably end up TPI.
No one can argue with that, and sensibly, no one does.
In the backs, the miracle reappearance of Lawrence after being counted out for the season with a purported broken jaw just two weeks previous, was, well, a miracle.
They need the Try Scoring Freak to do what he does best - score tries.
On paper the Dragons should win this week, and the bookies certainly see it that way - you can get luxury odds about the Tigers straight out - given the Saints line up is a pretty good one and the fact that they had a massive advantage in the points scored for and against, more than any other team in the comp by the length of the street, at the end of the regular season.
But if you could be bothered to drill down into the stats, most of those points were scored against weak teams, while the Dragons did tend to struggle against good relentless defensive outfits, who had some explosive power in the backs and at least one good finisher on the wing.
Lote 'wot'd I do, guv?' Tuqiri, anyone?
For mine, St George will be gripped by the fear that they won't even make the Grand Final after winning the Minor Premiership by a whisker, while the Tigers won't have anything of the sort that to contend with and really have nothing much to lose; as it was in the Miracle Year '05, everything, then and now, is just a bonus on a season well played, notwithstanding that another Winfield Cup would be a good thing to have in the trophy cabinet down on the Victoria Road.
It'll also be a very very interesting battle of tactics and strategy from two very old, very wily Super Coaches, who have no shortage of Premierships between them, to see who comes out on top.
Betting on my man, even though SC Sheens has not managed extra time all that well this season, but he would have learnt from that...
If it comes to that.
God Forbid.
With both clubs having huge supporter bases [as noted many times previously, you see Tigers fans, everywhere, every day, in all sorts of unusual places and situations] there should be a bumper crowd in, but you'd expect the Balmain/Western Suburbs conglomerate of supporters would shade the Dragons fans slightly in the attendance figures, giving Balmain something of a home ground advantage.
But not much, mind you.
They sold 35,000 seats in the club member's pre-sale by all reports, so should get about 60,000 in at a minimum, plus some walk up.
But, in breaking news, the senior bureaucrats who support Balmain at Shitty Rail have decided to make life difficult for St George fans by scheduling trackwork for Sutherland, Kogarah, Rockdale, Dapto, Wollongong and Thirroul.
If that goes ahead, the pressure on the event bus system will be enormous.
The Club Secretary would no doubt be madly shuffling the beads back and forth on the abacus working out the percentages on the gate receipts as his faithful assistant goes ching! ching! on the old back office cash register, all the time thinking, praying, dreaming, of the spectacular box office bonanza that is the premiership decider.
Tickets to the cheap seats are in hand; and cheap they are at just $30 a throw.
See if you can spot us on the telly.
We'll be the photogenic screaming delerious ones waving at the camera from our angle right on the try-line in the south-western corner of the ground, shouting lame stuff like "go you good things".
Was reminded this week of that wonderful work of art that appeared on the old brick wall barrier on top of the road bridge over the railway line at Petersham in the week before the '89 Grand Final, hand painted with a wide brush, in two foot high white letters:
"THERE IS NO FEAR LIKE THE FEAR OF FEAR ISELF, EXCEPT SIRRO"

CANBERRA RAIDERS 24. Tries: Harrison, Monaghan, Thurling, Tongue. Goals: Croker (4).
WESTS TIGERS 26. Tries: Heighington, Ellis, Tuqiri, Lawrence. Goals: Marshall (5).
At Canberra Stadium.
Crowd: 26,476. [Ground Record]

Craven.

For the record:
2nd Preliminary Final
St George Illawarra Dragons (Winner 1 Wk 1) v Wests Tigers (Winner Semi-Final 1)
Saturday 25 September 2010, 7:45pm AEST - ANZ Stadium, Sydney Olympic Park.
Dragons: 1. Darius Boyd 2. Brett Morris 3. Mark Gasnier 4. Matt Cooper 5. Jason Nightingale 6. Jamie Soward 7. Ben Hornby (c) 8. Neville Costigan 9. Dean Young 10. Michael Weyman 11. Beau Scott 12. Ben Creagh 13. Jeremy Smith
Interchange: 14. Nathan Fien 15. Trent Meriin 16. Matt Prior 17. Jarrod Saffy; Reserves: 18. Nick Emmett 19. Kyle Stanley 20. Jon Green 21. Luke Priddis.
Tigers: 1. Mitch Brown 2. Lote Tuqiri 3.Blake Ayshford 4. Chris Lawrence 5. Beau Ryan 6. Benji Marshall 7. Robert Lui 8. Todd Payten 9. Robbie Farah 10. Keith Galloway 11. Liam Fulton 12. Gareth Ellis 13. Chris Heighington
Interchange: 14. Ben Murdoch-Masila 15. Daniel Fitzhenry 16. Simon Dwyer 17. Bryce Gibbs; Reserves: 18. Mark Flanagan 19. Andrew Fifita.

only themselves to blame

Coronary Arterists,

Being involved in perhaps the best finals match in living memory is, of course, no consolation whatsoever to the losers, is it?
No sooner than Anasta had potted the drop goal from behind the 33-yard line with mere seconds left on the clock to level the thing up at 15-all, than a message chattered through on the ticker-tape on the bush telegraph in the corner of the loungeroom from a long-time student of the game and hard-bitten Balmain fan, which simply read "all the blood has drained from my face".
Never have the heart pills and a large snifter come in more handy than after that, as the arteries began to twitch.
But they had only themselves to blame.
Once again, Mighty Tiges should have been easily up by 30+ points at half time, instead of 10-2, given the number of times they went into the in-goal; all disallowed by referees who should be taken out the back and lined up against a wall and shot at the end of the season, and then we'll start with new ones next year.
Joisus!
Even Bryce Gibbs went over after not having visited the try line since the '05 Grand Final, for gawd's sake, only to be denied by some completely blind imbecile Bamford.
Two soft tries to Eastern Suburbs late in the second half didn't help matters, as punters moved towards the edge of their seats.
Everyone was wondering, as the end of the second period of extra-time loomed, what on earth was going to happen.
The match ref dived for the rule book to find it was a case of just play on until someone scores.
There were no less than eight unsuccessful field goal attempts in extra time, which only goes to prove the "get one when you can get one..." adage.
With Benji off the field for the bulk of extra time and the team having run out of interchange and finding themselves with only 12 men on the paddock, a grim outcome looked likely.
Crikey!
Under those harsh conditions, it was little wonder that they were rolled over and bummed by an intecept try in the 101st minute.
There was some brilliant stuff in there from both sides for a great spectacle; a promoter's dream, but the intrinsic problem for Balmain supporters was and is that in the end the scoreboard doesn't lie.
In the final paralysis, it was Benji's kicking boots, or lack of Mum's boot polish thereon, that was the difference between two sides that had otherwise played within a cigarette paper of each other.
Former Balmain coach Warren "The Wok" Ryan, who usually speaks arrant but well thoughout nonsense, did make some salient points on the radio post mortem the next day re: where the Tigers were going wrong at the pointy end of the season, chief among them "the Tigers were always going to take a huge gamble by going into the finals with a sub-standard goal kicker. I've been saying for months, despite all his magic&brilliance, Benji Marshall's goal kicking is simply not up to first grade standard, and I just don't know why. I can only think that he doesn't spend nearly enough time sending them sailing over the black dot in practice".
That's probably somewhere where someone like Royce Simmons could step in; feeding footballs to him as he kicks 25 goals an hour on the training paddock, while quenching his own nervous thirst with a bucket of beer.
The season's number one coach killers can keep the blame to themselves for choosing the very rough end of the pineapple.
To think, after meekly giving up second spot on the ladder in the last minor round when, if they had not lost to Souths, twice, would have won the wonderful JJ Giltinan Shield; and then came out and lost by a whisker in the first week of the finals, when a win under the crazy Hare-Clark-McIntyre-Duckworth-Lewis system would have seen them propelled to week three on the back of the Penrith loss, anyway; but as it was they had to rely on Manly getting beaten on the Sunday, or be the first top four team to go out in week one in many a long year.
And as it is, they are condemned to playing Canberra, on the wastelands in Canberra, in a sudden death final, and then, presumably, having to beat the white-hot in-form side St George-Illawarra, to make it through to the Grand Final, against either the Titans, Easts again, or Penrith.
Good Lawd, help me!
The prospect is not very palatable, and it looks for all the world like a road too far, especially as they had the very real chance to be just one win out of the decider and avoiding the Dragons in the process, as if that needs mentioning again.
Ever the optimist speaking here - but if they do somehow manage to get that far -- you'd back them from here to breakfast, surely?
However, just to make matters that little bit worse, at the traditional Tuesday naming of the teams for the NRL, SC Sheens was forced to pick a 21 man squad for a 13 man game, to cover all contingencies.
What with McKinnon out, again, at full back, Benji in doubt with, you guessed it, a knee, and Ayshford, according to the club doctor, coming down with a suspected case of glandular fever after getting too kissy kissy nice nice with some floosie post-match.
Yaaargh!
As SC Sheens has no hair left on his scone after this season, you'd have to be left wondering what else he has left to pull out.
The short and curlies, perhaps?
There's been no shortage of dead set miracles in football over the years, but if the Tigers manage to pull this one off, it'd surely have to take the biscuit, wouldn't it?
The Great Skando's work as the Balmain forwards coach -- and a playing coach from time to time, to boot -- has been shockingly under-rated all year.
As he was quoted saying on reflection at the recovery session, "while there's still a game, a chance, there's hope, good hope, you watch".

WESTS TIGERS 15. Tries: Ryan, Ayshford, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (1). Field Goals: Farah (1).
SYDNEY ROOSTERS 19. Tries: Anasta, Pearce, Kenny-Dowall, Goals: Carney (3). Field Goals: Anasta (1).
After extra-time.
Full time: 15-15.
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 33,315.

There's no better example of going nowhere in September, when you kick the princely sum of precisely no goals whatsoever in The Championship Quarter in two consecutive finals matches.
That's close to an hour of football with nothing, read me right here, nothing doing.
What the?
They haven't called the Championship Quarter the Championship Quarter since time immemorial for nothing, on account of the team that kicks the most goals in the Championship Quarter in the Premiership Decider, more often than not, wins.
The Championship.
The Flag.
It's not hard, is it, the concept?
The long and the short of it is they have only themselves to blame.
Squandering the five goal lead they had late in the second stanza after cruising into the long break was a classic case of choking for mine.
Even Greg Norman could see that.
Not enough goal kickers, either.
After weeks of deliberate going where there were 9-11 individual goal kickers every game; Swans could only come up with six when it counted.
Found myself humming, to the tune of to dream the impossible dream "to lose, the unloseable game" well before full time.
Oh well.
Finished up.
Up in smoke.
Gorn.
Just like that.
All done.
And dusted.
Cactus.
Can think of only two players in my memory in any code, who each played more than 200 games for their respective clubs, who quite rightly earned the middle name moniker of "Never Played A Bad Game", and that'd be the former Balmain stalwart and captain in the late 80's, Wayne "Never Played A Bad Game" Pearce, and the lately Swans captain Brett "Never Played A Bad Game" Kirk, who both maintained their hard earned reputations right through to the end of their careers.
Neither of them were superstars, but they go down in the annals as dead set champions.
Just a shame that Pearce never won a premiership despite two grand final appearances.
Kirk got one in '05, and he would have to be happy with that, despite the cruel saying that he's sat on his laurels ever since; but that would be a touch harsh for someone who consistently never got best on ground, and went nowhere in the Brownlow year after year, yet still frightened the shit out of opposition's on account of his remarkable doggedness as a centre-man and his astonishing work rate.
Kirky will probably spend the summer in some ashram somewhere contemplating his navel, along with the meaning of football in one's life, as he gazes out to sea to see if he can see Nirvana.
Then he'll come back and lead the monks cheer squad in the stands, every week, home and away.
Everybody is dying too see the great man in sandals and a saffron robe, with a Swans beanie perched upon his bald head.
All power to his oars.
No doubt he would have led the Mad Monday leadership group in a round of group hugs and meditation, before the monks ordered the frosty foaming jugs of Toohey's New, and then mulled over a season that exceeded expectations, but one that wasn't particularly well handled in the denoument.
You would have thought buggering it up when it counted would have been high on the agenda, but hasn't everyone done that at some stage?
Some new talent was unearthed in the course of the year for a change, and you'd think there would be more retirees to come, The Great Irishman and The Great Goodes Train chief among them.
If the Swans can buy a good new full-back and half-back, another ruck-rover, keep the full-forward they have fully fit, and pick well at the draft, they could be anything [or conversely, nothing] in 2011.
SC Roos, the "accidental coach" who never in his wildest dreams thought he'd be able to make a career out of it, was admitted to the Swans pantheon a long time ago, and can comfortably go to his grave with the Super Coach appelation; only those who win Premierships are entitled to the Super Coach title, and like a life peerage, no one can take that away from him.
It'll be interesting to see how he now goes with the under-10's, and who he can pull through to the top grade in the next 8-15 years.
Long term is always a good thing to think about in theory.
All power to his oars.
The rest of the season now becomes merely academic of course, but as the Good Lady Wife remarked..."if it's any consolation, Craves, the Saints will swallow the 'Dogs whole in week three, and probably go on to win the thing".
No, not really, love, but thanks, anyway.
As they say in the classics, 'there's always next year'.

WESTERN BULLDOGS: 3.4, 5.6, 8.9, 11.11 (77). Goals: Hall 4, Giansiracusa 3, Addison, Hooper, Grant, Murphy.
SYDNEY: 3.4, 8.4, 8.9, 10.12 (72). Goals: Bradshaw 3, Shaw 2, Goodes 2, Bolton, McGlynn, Jetta.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 39,596.

beyond belief

Screaming believers,

Anyone who has even casually followed the Swans this season could believe that they got away with being thumped 0-5 goals in the Championship Quarter and still won the game.
There must have been a moment approaching three quarter time when all the Swans people at the ground found themselves self-flagellating with their merch at the prospect of a perfectly acceptable season being undone in a whimper in the team's third goaless Championship Quarter this year.
Beyond belief, really.
Only when Our Boy From Burma sacked the hapless Double Blue in the goal square minutes from time and the Bamford had no option but to rule the tacklee was in infringement of the rules and blew his whistle for "ball", did anyone take the result of the game as the gospel truth.
Thank the Good Lord Joisus the scoreboard doesn't lie when they press the button marked "final siren".
The irony is that someone should tell Coach'n'Horses that six goals in the opening stanza might be all well and good, but a quarter of football does not a match make.
Surprised myself on becoming a quivering mass of nerve-endings in the last quarter, but shouldn't have been, after screaming at a ridiculously huge flat screen crystal bucket for a full third quarter as the Swans were totally distracted from their usual game, completely sucked in by Carlton into a brand of football that looked for all the world like an under-7's "swarm", where there's a scrimmage and a ball up every half a minute.
Completely lost the plot.
SC Roos would have been furious.
Looked it.
Swans build their game on handball to the loose man and a good kick to the uncontested mark, patiently staking out territory, before getting in front of goal.
So, it's ugly, but it works.
It was plain for all to see that Plan B wasn't a happening thing, and why fix something if it isn't broke, in any case?
Coach Longmire still has a lot to learn.
Little wonder Carlton were dead set filthy at losing.
Sydney should have enough in the kit bag to out play the Dogs, again, in week two.
It won' take much niggling from The Goodes Train to make BBB Hall's brain implode like some kind of Black Hole, given the bad man's performance last week, and narrow escape at the tribunal.
Not at all convinced about the wisdom of playing Daniel "Ol' Crock" Bradshaw in a semi-final, for gawd's sake, when he's been in the rehab ward and out of the game for so long.
You would have thought the first and last requirement for players going around in finals is match fitness, and he certainly aint got that.
Same goes for the injury-fragile "In Like" McGlynn.
In any case, who do you drop out of the current 22 to make way for that stepping-on-eggshells pair?
Can't think of anyone off the top of my head who deserves to be omitted for someone wrapped in cotton wool after a five game winning streak late season purple patch.
Surely they can't be thinking along the lines of a 'last in, first out' policy, as Dennis-Lane and the Jetta Kiddie are having the time of their lives.
The yoof .v. experience conundrum comes into play, yet again.
That'd be up to brighter minds than me on the match committee to decide, and good luck to them
SC Roos and Cap'n'Kirk live to fight another day, which can't be a bad thing for ol' times sake.
If the antics they got up to together after the game are any indication, who knows what they'll do to each other if they win this week, and find themselves one game out of the Grand Final?

SYDNEY: 6.6, 11.8, 11.11, 14.15 (99). Goals: Dennis-Lane 4, Bevan 3, Shaw 2, Jack, White, Goodes, Jetta, O'Keefe.
CARLTON: 4.3, 7.8, 12.12, 13.16 (94). Goals: Walker 3, Waite 3, Warnock 2, Garlett 2, Henderson, Murphy.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 41,596.

Ducked my head into the Front Bar at The Local mid-week and just said one word "Mighty Tiges", only to be greeted with a general shaking of heads in dismay that Balmain had limply given up second place on the ladder when the guaranteed double chance was there for the taking.
Beyond belief, really.
With so much on the line, the local drinkers found it hard to fathom why they played so badly in the first half; all the dropped ball and other silly mistakes and plain spastic penalties given away, and that's not to mention the softest two tries scored against anyone all season very early on in proceedings, the first 11 minutes in fact, to find themselves well and truly behind the eight ball, only to cop a gigantic tusk up the runter in the form of a field goal to make it 13-0 down before the half-time hooter!
The students of the game were still finding that a difficult one to work out, while the old fashioned drunks were just dumbfounded, as usual.
After getting a Saturn rocket up them at half time from SC Sheens, Tigers came out in the second half with quite a bit more steel to the backbone to score two good tries off the bell, to be just a point behind, yet never looked like winning.
Talk of the lunatic 77th minute penalty goal aroused yet more shaking of heads among the imbibers, and then some gnashing of teeth, soothed only, days after the event, by a deep draft of the schooner that's to hand.
The Philosopher was blunt on the matter:
"well, that's typical Titans for you, isn't it? You cannot afford to let them continue to have the lead with 20 minutes to go, no matter how small the margin, as you will always find it dreadfully difficult to get it back".
Otherwise, it appeared or all intents and purposes to be situation normal, with the forwards getting on with it and the backs doing the job.
Go figure.
Current form is impossible to read across the top eight, given that it's all over the shop like a mad dog's breakfast.
On paper, Balmain should do Eastern Suburbs like a hot dinner.
Should have more strike power in the light artillery to out-point 'em, while the forwards should have little difficulty wrapping up the Roosters pack.
Should being the operative word.
Wade "I can't spit six metres, Your Honour" McKinnon back at full-back will add a measure of safety and security in the last line of defence, while Fulton's return will no doubt add the other half of the starch to the second row, and he's a perfect foil for That Pom Ellis.
The selection of the SFS at the finals home ground is a curious, but ultimately sensible one.
Leichhardt Oval would have to have been the obvious first pick, but with 20,000 capacity at best, the Club Secretary, flanked by a phalanx of bean counters and nut crackers in the back office, would have made it very clear to the board that a 45,500 full house potential at SFS is a much better deal on the turnstiles.
To add the curioisty, SFS is also the Roosters home ground, so both teams are playing at home, if that makes any sense.
With Balmain hosting the home final and having first dibs on the ground, they have locked the Roosters out of the SFS [even though Easts administrative offices are actually in the ground], and put in security guards to deal with the problem of football spies.
Easts have labelled the move as "paranoid".
Whatever.
If you can't get 2nd, 3rd on the premiership table isn't a bad option; in theory anway under the strange Hare-Clark-McIntyre-Duckworth-Lewis finals system, the Tiges can't be knocked out in the first week, and a win and the unlikely event of a Penrith loss would see them sail straight through to week three under a wet sail, one win out of the Grand Final.
At least SC Sheens doesn't have to carry through with the threat he made the day he extended his contract to the end of next season on the back of a paper napkin in some cafe in Chiswick earlier in the year that he would retire at the end of this season if the team he had didn't make the top eight.
The side he's got on the park is good enough to win the thing, but only, it seems, on "their day".
While SC Sheens is busy working on the game plan, Messrs Folkes and Simmons would have been reaching into the back of their complex football brains to coach some more of those beautiful set plays on the training paddock this week.
They know, better than anyone in the caper, that strength, speed, and surprise is the secret to finals football.

GOLD COAST TITANS 21. Tries: Harrison, Zillman, Gordon. Goals: Prince (4). Field Goals: Rogers (1).
WESTS TIGERS 18. Tries: Heighington, Ellis, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (3).
At Gold Coast Stadium.
Crowd: 26,103.

a hard road to hoe & a saloon passage

Rabid Loyalists,

And so, after a winter of comfortable-enough content, we come to the pointy end of the season.
But first things first.
The result of the Collingwood-Hawthorn match was so obviously rigged in a crude attempt to diddle Sydney out of a home final, it wasn't funny.
Not even remotely funny.
Why didn't the stewards call for the betting sheets?
Where are the calls for a Royal Commission into the bare-faced scandal?
With the Collingwood Mafia running the show, it was no skin off their nose that, in the end, the Hawks got the rough end of the pineapple from the Swans, and were despatched to Subiaco in the first week of the finals.
Of course, if Collingwood had won the game, Sydney could have lost to the Bears in Brisbane, and still hosted a home final.
On being informed, the GLW simply remarked "farking hell!".
As it was, it came down to a simple equation: Sydney wins = home final, Sydney loses = MCG final...no other permuations.
Armed with that knowledge, the Coach'n'Horses made sure the game plan was precisely written, while SC Roos was off doing what he has been doing best behind the scenes in the last half of the season - putting a rocket up those playing in reserve grade, taking it upon himself to coach the rookies, and telling them where to get a good breakfast with the caveat "there will be papers in there, son. don't read 'em."
And the pay off has been perfectly timed.
For the first time this seson, Malceski eschewed the long sleeved jumper in favour of the regular short sleeved tunic, no doubt a nod to the tropical conditions at the Gabba.
Probably wound up best on ground, although the Canadian Tall Timber in Mike Pyke could easily lay claim to man-of-the-match as well, as he found himself half a foot over the top in the ruck everytime, and got close to 100% of the hit outs.
The ol' rah rah boy even got a few kicks and took some good marks in general play.
Little wonder they stitched him up to a new contract mid-week, with the sharks from the Gold Coast on the lookout out for a ruckman, circling.
Pleasing to note that Malceski has earned selection in the long list for the All Australian Team, while the odds on favourite Pretty Boy Hannebery picked up the Rising Star Gong.
Minor rewards for seasons well done.
SC roos will not countenance any comparison to the Miracle Year 2005.
Quite right too.
As he points out, it's easy to forget the Swans won the flag in the Miracle Year from fourth on the ladder.
Winning it from fifth is a different bottles of mussels altogether.
Going into the finals on the back of a four game winning streak means that winning in week one would constitute a late season purple patch, but then to win three more, all away, with the guarantee that you will come up against a top four side in the last two games to win the Premiership, and it's apparent that that's a very hard road to hoe.
As The Philosopher, forever the pessimist, puts it "probability is always be against you. winning 8 on the trot's slim on the sliding scale. the longer you go on winning the more prone you are to the 'due for a loss' syndrome"
The Goodes Train has a longer memory, harking back to 2003, when the Swans also had a nice mix of yoof and experience and a good bunch of junior players, who are now the senior players [those that hung on and lasted the distance that is, or what's left of them], and made the finals in 4th that year too, against all expectations, and then fell at the penultimate hurdle.
Aiming to go one better, and then give the game away.
Look at the scorebox and the young kiddies in the side kicked nine of the 16 goals, among the 12 individual goal kickers.
Five goals to two behinds in the Championship Quarter will win you any game of football every time.
It's not complicated, is it?

BRISBANE LIONS 3.2 6.5 6.7 10.8 (68). Goals: Brennan 2, Proud, Staker, Adcock, Polkinghorne, Power, Hanley, Banfield, Collier.
SYDNEY 4.1 6.4 11.9 16.10 (106). Goals: Jack 3, Dennis-Lane 3, Goodes, Meredith, J Bolton, Kennedy, McVeigh, Jetta, Malceski, O'Keefe, Shaw, Reid.
At Brisbane Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 24,789.

SC Sheens is a certified grand master at dragging a fishy-smelling red herring across the path, when it suits his purposes.
Witness him wheeling Benji out for the press mid-week last week, where Benji swore black-and-blue, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die, that he was going to reign in the jink, the weave and the step and take a more sensible approach to his attacking football.
And what does he do?
Blows away the smoke and mirrors to play an absolute blinder, featuring, at it's very best, you gessed it, the jink, the weave, the step
Brilliant!
Had a hand or a foot in everything that went on in the backline.
Only goes to prove that he's been craftily building up for the finals for the best part of a month.
Fitter than ever and has also put on a few kilo's in order to get down to final business.
"Come and get me".
If Ellis is not the best second rower going around in the comp, then blow me down and tickle me with a feather.
Can't think of a much better one since '05.
Found myself too slow out of the blocks on Sunday morning and the 445 bus timetable conspiring against me to make it to Leichhardt Oval.
They are my excuses, anyway.
Probably a good thing too in retrospect, as 20,000 in at the Spiritual Home is less than two thousand short of the ground record and downright uncomfortable; 16-17-18 is very squeezie at the best of times.
Got no further than The Local.
Where the usual suspects were arrayed along the Front Bar, the big bastard brown brothers, the odd student of the game, a few reprobates, a couple of old fashioned drunkards, and The Philosopher sitting in his usual corner nursing this week's favoured tipple - a vodka & tonic with a twist of lemon.
Marshall's first try of the match was without doubt the best of the season in terms of ingenuity, opportunism and execution.
Forgot to mention, there was also an art critic in the bar.
He kept on yelling out as the first try was being scored "oh, the hands! the hands! oh! the hands!", in an obvious reference to the number of passes made conveying the ball to the in-goal, and how it became a thing of beauty in its own right.
The brown brothers were slapping each other on the back, nodding and winking and saying "not bad for a Kiwi, eh, bru?"
The Tigers pack can mix it with any other, no matter how big they are -- you wouldn't want to meet Todd "the Refrigertor" Peyton in a dark alley -- while the backs will out-razzle and out-dazzle all the centre-three-quarters in the caper.
A win against the Titans (a) in the last game of home and away will see the Tiges finish in second, with the minor premiership now out of reach.
That'd be good form on the way in, and the saloon passage afforded [in theory anyway] by the weird Hare-Clarke-McIntyre-Duckworth-Lewis finals system to the teams finishing one and two -- clean through to week three.
The September prospects are therefore looking bright.
The smart money certainly thought so after this week's flood of money at the books on Balmain, who have got under the bagman's radar in recent weeks.
Odds slashed in half across the board.
The Philosopher remained mute throughout the match, as is his wont.
When pressed by the brown brothers after the game for his opinion on the Marshall performance, the sage remarked:
"He'll do. If they can keep the Kiwi and & That Pom fit, they'll lift the Winfield Cup."
Wise words that are hard to argue with.

WESTS TIGERS 26. Tries: Marshall (3), Farah, Fifita. Goals: Marshall (3).
MELBOURNE STORM 14. Tries: Hoffman, Isa, O'Neill. Goals: Smith (1).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 20,168.

yoof and experience

True Believers,

Been on my sick bed this week, soh'been barely able to pick up a pen, let alone wrap my sore head around the tumultuous events of the weekend.
Suffice to say, it was more entertaining to watch the Swans go round on the crystral bucket than a bunch of self-appointed boffins and pointy-heads totting up the complete range of entirely inexplicable numbers, for no result.
At least in football, the scoreboard doesn't lie.
It's only taken them all season, but for the first time Sydney finally got the mix of yoof and experience completely right.
Trent "Our Man From Burma" Dennis-Lane found the radar, the Jetta Kiddie found his feet in senior company, Son o' Gary Jack has been more or less on song all season, while Pretty Boy Hannebery is now a clear favourite with the books to win the AFL Rookie of the Year Award, while Reece "Rick" Shaw and Jesse "James" White continue to be hungry in a forward line without an obvious target.
Combine that with old workhorses of the likes of Kennelly, Bevan, Bolton, McVeigh et al doing the business as usual, and its always going to be a winning combination.
If they can play like that through to Mad Monday, then who knows what's possible in September.
The Goodes Train's only job on the night was to annoy the shit out of BBB Hall, which he accomplished with aplomb, spoiling anything the came his way and delivering the odd little rabbit punch to the ruffian's solar plexus whenever they came into contact.
Fitting that they picked out The Great Brett "Never played A Bad Game" Kirk to boot the final goal of the match in his swansong at the G
Did like The Great Mickey O's mid week assessment of Cap'n'Kirk's career:
“For a guy who can't run that quickly, who can't jump, mark, or kick, who's not that strong; geez, he's a pretty good footy player though. He's one of the best and I'm proud to call him my mate”.
A classic example, if ever there was one, of a player lacking in natural ability and talent who made a name for himself and achieved greatness through sheer determination and intestinal fortitude.
No one can argue with 238 games and 96 goals in 11 seasons, after coming into the big league as pick #40 in the '98 draft.
An ornament to the game who has long been admitted to the pantheon.
Vale the club's spiritual leader, who will no doubt go on to find Nirvana in retirement.
As for SC Roos, he effectively retired weeks ago when he started tearing up game plans, and as a bloke who doesn't stand on ceremony or sentimentality, didn't appear to care much that it was his last time in the dug out.
Entirely clear that The Coach'n'Horses has taken over the top job and implemented his own way of doing things, to wit, always try to make a smart start out of the blocks with points on the board, reassess where you are at quarter time, and then be prepared to switch to Plan B at any stage.
Seems Sydney will more or less finish in fifth or sixth place, barring any major accident against the Bears in Brisbane this weekend, for a single home final, but without the double chance.
Shame that that final has to be played at the Western Paddock due to contractual arrangements, when everyone would far prefer the Cricket Ground.
For once this season they'd have 'em hangin' from the rafters at the G, while they'll struggle to half-fill the Olympic Stadium at the inflated ticket prices they will no doubt charge for the finals and no free public transport thrown in.
Call me an old fashioned forever hopeful and an idiot optimist if you like, but as fanciful as it may sound, a Collingwood/Sydney quinella to make the Grand Final is not the roughest of chances and very well priced at the current 50/1.
"yeah sure, right" said the Good Lady Wife, always the pragmatist.
But, that'd be one for the true believers...


SYDNEY: 4.4, 10.6, 13.10, 17.12 (114). Goals: Dennis-Lane 4, Jack 2, Bolton 2, McVeigh 2, Bevan 2, Jetta 2, Kirk 2, White.
WESTERN BULLDOGS: 5.1, 6.3, 9.7, 10.10 (70). Goals: Hudson 2, Eagleton 2, Hall 2, Grant 2, Gilbee, Jones.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 36,554.


The Mighty Tigers pick up yet another get-out-of-jail-free card!
Who would have thought that the Burt Kiddie of Parramatta, perhaps the most reliable goal kicker in the caper, lining up a penalty goal shot from pretty much in front with 26 seconds left on the clock to push the match in extra time with Eels having all the momentum and the season to play for, would have shanked it just wide of the uprights?
Once again a heart-in-the mouth first half for Balmain fans as they bombed at least four tries, conjouring up every way possible to mess up a four-pointer, from just dropping the ball stone cold to passing the thing clean into touch in the first 20 minutes, and crossing the line twice only to have the tries disallowed on the say-so of some dodgy Bamford, and then let in the softest opposition try in the shadows of half time.
Joisus.
That said, amid all the chaos, there were a couple of brilliantly coached set plays in there that would have easily made the "try of the year" highlights reel, if only they came off.
Although it might not be immediatelyy apparent to the casual observer, it appears more and more like SC Sheens is playing a very clever percentage game here, working out the exact chances of a set play succeeding and putting it out there in match conditions; if it doesn't come ff, too bad, all the good if it does, and if more succeed than fail, then you'd have to be in with a tip-top chance of winning the game every time.
Takes a very large football brain to do that.
SC Sheens hasn't had a side that he can try that trick with for five years, but it worked back then, so why not now?
The forwards again did very well to out muscle the big mob of brown brothers in the Eels pack, laying a solid latform for the backs to their magic, with Benji getting the mojo working in the jink, step, and weave department.
His best game in a month or so, and the goal kicking boots at least have a patina of polish on them.
Anything could happen this Sunday as the Tigers take on the Dirty Rotten Cheatin' Mexicans at the Spiritual Home of Balmain rugby league.
How do you prepare for game against Melbourne who are entirely unpredictable given they have absolutely nothing to lose, or gain, apart from the possibility of theiving two premiership points off a side sailing towards the top of the table.
Despite the stoush for the top four remaining very tight indeed, Balmain at this late stage would have to a shoe-in for the double chance - or at least the double chance in theory, under the plain weird Hare-Clarke-McIntyre-Duckworth-Lewis finals system the NRL still insists on employing, against all advice to the contrary.
No doubt the Club Secretary, having flipped the abacus and done the permutations on possible play-off match-ups would have been dipping into the Injured Players Benevolent Fund to have a punt, having noticed that the books have wound the Tigers/St George Grand Final quinella back into a narrow third line of favouritism; a special at the still juicy odds of 8/1.
Now, that'd be one for the true believers...


PARRAMATTA EELS 18. Tries: Inu, Horo, Mitchell. Goals: Burt (3).
WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Ryan (2), Lawrence, Fifita. Goals: Marshall (2).
At Parramatta Stadium.
Crowd: 19,854.

"even a third grader can work out the Premiership ladder"

Thrillseekers,

Joisus!
The Mighty Tiges are the quintessential coach killers, aren't they?
Fancy bombing no less than four - that's right, four - dead-set certain tries in the first ten minutes of the match, and then gifting a hapless opposition who have been all at sea for the best part of a month, two tries before half time off the back of really stupid penalties that not even a team representing the Spastic Centre would dream about giving away.
Surely, SC Sheens, at his age, would have been down at Centrelink on Monday morning looking for rent assistance to hire purchase his new toupe.
That said, Balmain do show that there is still some room for spectacularly speculative football in an age of conformity and political correctness, as a good mate put it, "at least some crazy ideas are allowed to get out of the box".
It's a view of things that's also widely admired in the Front Bar down at The Local, where the Philosopher, when you can get a word out of him as he ponders his form guide and brandy&dry, thinks Balmain are by far and away the best team in the caper to watch in aesthetic terms, despite, or perhaps because of, their unorthodox methods and willingness to chance the arm, have a stab at an unsual idea, try out a freak set play just for the sheer sake of it, which, he suspects is all the work of SC Sheens as the gears in his brain crunch and mesh to determine the probability of risk versus reward.
The Philospher reckons all this pulling out of tufts of hair is just show on the coach's part.
The Penrith coach knows what going on, as he admitted on interview after the game, "I was just out-coached in the end. It's as simple as that".
No kidding, Matt?
There's no doubt the Tigers pack has been on fire in recent weeks, with the props and the second row hammering the advantage line in the traditional softening up period and handing out plenty of "don't argues" and "how's your father's" on the way through, to the point where Todd "The Refrigerator" Peyton, Bludnut Galloway, and Man Mountain Heighington are tuckered out after the first 20 minutes, and pretty much buggered by half time...but not to worry...the Charging Fifita and the Great "Ol' Man River" Skando are there on the bench to take up the slack in the second half.
Not to mention That Pom Ellis, who can go all day, is playing out of skin, and is tougher by half than any other forward going around in the comp.
His two four-pointers this game were by far and away the most outstanding forward's busting barreling barnstorming tries scored by anyone in any team this season, leaving no end of defenders upended in his wake.
On that platform, it was only a matter of time until the backs opened the flood gates..
The Best Leb in The Game has been working assiduously all year on being the premier dummy half in the caper.
And that's not counting his uncanny ability to pot the field goal when no one is looking, or expecting it; least of all his own team.
Farah is working on the SC Sheens theory that "it's always good to get a field goal when you can get one one account of you can't always get one when you need one".
And the one he scored here was a classic example; kicked off a threep'ny bit and sailing sweetly over the black dot to surprise even the touch judges.
Little wonder then that Balmain are the leading exponents of the field goal this season.
Something that could come very much in handy in close encounters in September.
Can't remember which coach it was who said mid-week that "even a third grader can work out the Premiership ladder", so the Club Secretary would have noted that Balmain are now a single point on for&against difference out of second place on the table, two wins from the top.
The critical importance and the true horror of those two completely inexplicable losses to Souths has only just dawned on the Sec and the denizens of the Back Office.
Still, the beancounters would be rubbing their hands in glee as the dollar coins spilled out of the turnstiles with the best crowd of the year at the No.3 home ground.
South Western Sydney does like a winner.
A quick whiz of the beads on the abacus reveals the minor premiership is still not mathematically out of the question, however slim and problematical the prospect, with the tight, tough and testing run home of Parramatta [a], Farkin' Cheatin' Melbun [h] and Titans [a] to come.
On interview after the match, TP Ellis was talking up the prospect of a Miracle Year 05 repeat, Cap'n'Farah was visibly relieved at just being guaranteed a top eight spot for the first time since 05, while SC Sheens had no opinion on the question and nothing to offer on the subject.
As he would.

WESTS TIGERS 43. Tries: Ellis (2), Fifita (2), Farah, Lawrence, Lui. Goals: Marshall (7). Field Goals: Farah (1).
PENRITH PANTHERS 18. Tries: Gordon, Jennings, Pritchard. Goals: Gordon (3).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 17, 208.


Found myself forced to reach for a fistful of heart pills and a schooner of Drambuie at three quarter time.
This game in particular, and this team in particular, are not for the faint-hearted or those of a nervous disposition.
You just have to look at the margins in the score box.
3 points, 3 points, 3 points, 9 points.
Never mind the 10 lead changes.
After settling down on the final siren, told myself that it didn't need over-analysing, because in the final paralysis, the only really concrete thing to come out of it was confirmation of just how evenly matched the bottom four in the top eight are, and how they will be unmercilessly spanked and then eaten alive by the top four, who are a class apart, very early on during the pointy end of the season.
SC Roos spent the last few minutes of the game with his head in his hands as he couldn't bare to watch it.
Who could?
Came as no surprise that, after a 30+ possession career-high game, the Swans formally acknowledged mid-week that the Young Hannebery Kiddie had served his apprenticeship and stitched him up to a three-year senior contract on a fair-to-above average wage with performance bonuses thrown in.
No longer does he have to play for a ham sandwich and a longneck on match day; quite right too, with the Gold Coast recruiting squad circling like great whites with very deep pockets.
He's been identified and tagged as a Ten Year Man for Sydney, thank you very much.
Nice to see that Fremantle continues to play the game squeaky clean; just as "In Like" McGlynn looked like he was about to blow the whole shooting match wide open, he was wiped out by some screaming banshee masquerading as a Painter & Docker, who managed to bust up ILMcG's cheekbone, and then suffered no retribution at the tribunal whatsoever himself, while his victim is out for the season.
How does that work?
Cap'n'Kirk looked like the Cheshire Cat throughout, as if he was grinning at himself while saying to no one in particular "I'm thanking the Good Lord Buddha that this is the last time I have to ever come to Subi".
Suppose it'll be the same during this weekend's swansong at SCG.
The Club pensioned off SC Roos quite nicely this week; a touching finesse just before his last appearance at headquarters, by appointing him head coach of something called the Swans Academy, which by all accounts is some kind of wonderful new machine that's been designed to groom potential Australian Rules players from the moment they turn nine years old!
Junior park footy is just the thing to keep St Paul off the streets, and give him something to do in retirement.
The best Sydney can hope for now is for Coach'n'Horses to take over, make a play for sixth place on the ladder and a home final, weasel their way through to the second week of September, and then face up to the facts.

FREMANTLE: 3.2, 5.6, 10.6, 13.9 (87). Goals: Walters 2, Bradley 2, Hasleby, Johnson, de Boer, McPhee, Morabito, Hasleby, Broughton, Schammer, Suban
SYDNEY: 2.5, 5.8, 9.9, 14.12 (96). Goals: McGlynn 3, Dennis-Lane 2, Mumford, Moore, Bevan, Jack, Pike, Mattner, Jetta, White, O'Keefe.
At Subiaco Oval.
Crowd: 34,087.

blow torch to the belly

Mystics,

Who'd try and tip the AFL, let alone even consider having a bet on it?
The exposed form is completely unfathomnable.
If you were a punter from outer space that came across the caper fresh, you'd be forgiven for thinking the entire schemozzle was massively rigged.
After SC Roos publicy admitted last week that no-one was listening to him, not least the young kiddies playing in the reserves, who reputedly had all sorts of excuses, it was pretty clear Horse Longmire had taken the senior players, the so-called "leadership group" by the scruff of the neck and told them in no uncertain terms that they should just get on with playing their own game and not fall into the awful "zone" theory nonsense that other teams put on them, and just force their opposite number to play mark-up, one-on-one football.
As a result, Hawthorn found themselves befuddled.
Goodes revels in that sort of game plan, and The Train really is, after all these years, unstoppable when he puts his mind to it.
Rhino Keefe came back to form, and Odd Head McVeigh had his first good game in a while.
And the young blokes did well too, Dennis-Lane showing he might be something with three goals, while The Hannebery Kiddie already is something, Reg Grundy proving valuable, and the Son of Gary Jack will no doubt get the "most improved junior player" at the end of season awards dinner.
Also pleasing to see young Jetta get his first goal after kicking 19 behinds straight since debut; that hopefully, as he says, "will get the monkey off me back", and it will kickstart his AFL career.
The lad has undeniable talent and would out-run anyone in the game over 30 metres, but remains very much a greenhorn.
Cap'n'Kirk, really, although he battles on bravely, is having a sad shuffle out to the spelling paddock for good; he should confine himself to chanting mantra's in the dressing room, and then going and joining the monks in the stands, rather than play the game, otherwise his middle name of "Never Played A Bad Game" could be called into question right at the very arse end of an illustious career.
Why do it to youself when you having nothing left to prove?
On the back of being seven goals up at the long break, the Swans found themslves whip-sawed to the tune of 6-3 goals in the Championship Quarter, and still won the game.
That had the Horse written all over it
Stick to the game plan, don't tear it up and don't start chucking it at people seems to be a perfectly reasonable way to go
10-9 is good enough three games from the finish, but Freo at Subi this weekend is another bottle of mussels altogether.
PS. At the risk of sounding like a broken record; yet another completely outrageous fiction from the Swans Marketing Dept in concocting the plain-silly crowd figure.

SYDNEY: 5.4, 10.10, 13.12, 19.15 (129). Goals: O'Keefe 4, Goodes 3, McGlynn 3, Dennis-Lane 3, Moore, McVeigh, Jack, Kennedy, Jetta, White.
HAWTHORN: 1.1, 3.5, 9.6, 13.7 (85). Goals: Franklin 4, Lewis 2, Roughead 2, Stratton, Ladson, Bateman, Moss, Burgoyne.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 29,431.

Well, it was only a matter of time before the Mighty Tiges were not given a get-out-of-jail card free.
And the most remarkable game of rugby league this season, by any measure, to boot.
At 28-12 deep into the second half, Balmain were home and hosed, with the slippers on and the port & pipe in hand, and yet still managed to hand the opposition two Premiership points on a silver platter.
Really, they did almost everything right on the night, but fell for the trap that they thought they found themselves on a leisurely walk in the park against a team that was missing no less than eleven regular first graders through suspension and injury, when in reality, they weren't, and then got the timing all wrong, missing several opportunities, some would says gifts at field goal in extra-time, all the while underestimating the Rabbitoh's will to win.
Retired for the night on Saturday humming to myself..."to lose the unloseable game" to the tune of "to dream the impossible dream".
The Best Leb In The Game, as usual, was running the show, the pack put in from beginning to end with the front row in particular doing in some excellent work all round, while Keefy "Bludnut" Galloway had a blinder off the second row.
Benji, as usual, was doing the jink, the step, the faint, the cut out pass and the other ballet moves, after coming to the game with his goal kicking boots well polished, for a change.
All the wingers Lote "Wot I'd Do, Guv?" Tuqiri and That Try Scoring Freak Lawrence scored tries, and lets face it, that's the only reason that they are on the paddock - points on the board - while Ayshford got himself over the line after he found himself playing on the wing by mistake.
What's not to like about any of that?
All of the above is mere hearsay, of course.
Didn't see a frame of the match as there was some potterring to do in Dad's Shed, so only caught the radio call and later reports on the bush telegraph from spies who were there.
Only saw some highlight reel vision of the quite eerie final try, scored as it was at the end of the second period of extra time at 90 minutes just as the AFL style hooter was hooting at the Western Paddock to bring the proceedings to a halt.
But there was a pass in it that appeared to have a hint of a forward pass about it, although to some seasoned observers at the ground close to the action, it was a mile forward, and yet the Bamford decided not to send the thing upstairs for adjudication.
What the?
Home side favouritism, probably.
People, days afterwards, are still stratching their heads saying "how on earth did South Sydney win that one?"
The Balmain coaching staff haven't got a clue, so what hope the ordinary punter?
Thought SC Sheens restrained himself admirably at the dénouement, while the Club Secretary, no doubt, in a back office somewhere, would have been leaping about like some kind of wild-eyed crazed ape at the prospect of the possibility of not getting the gate reciepts from a home final.
A golden opportunity for Balmain to go to outright second on the ladder and even challenge for the glorious JJ Giltinan Shield [now awarded to the minor premiers] gone begging, and now they find themselves bumped back to fifth on the table.
Barry Crocker.
And Penrith, Parramatta, Melbourne and Gold Coast to come will represent a keenly-felt blow torch to the belly viz a viz September prospects.

SOUTH SYDNEY RABBITOHS 34. Tries: Farrell (3), Wesser, Sutton, Talanoa. Goals: Sandow (5).
WESTS TIGERS 30. Tries: Farah, Galloway, Lawrence, Ayshford, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (5).
[After extra-fucking-time, full-time 30-30].
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 23,298.

on being toyed with

Fellow Appallees,

No mystery in any of this...
Woke on Sunday morning not feeling all that well also, after giving the drink a bit of a nudge at the ground and particularly after the game, with a burning desire to get the backyard incinerator going fiercly and setting fire to all my Swans memorabilia.
All the old tickets, programs, soveniers, about two dozen free hats collected over the years, and the guernsey that never did fit, with the scarf thrown in on the top for good measure.
Still don't know what stopped me.
Even the most disgruntled fan can take a loss, but to be rolled over like that and subjected to a brutal gigantic tusk up the runter without so much as putting up a fight is just plain unacceptable.
There was not even a hint of excitement or exuberance on the event bus to the ground.
Everyone knew what was going to happen, as all the passengers had that same bad feeling in their water.
The atmosphere in the ground was pretty drear from the off with the home fans already downcast, and the smattering of Geelong fans their usual dour selves - they are not prone to excitability, as only one thing matters to them, and that's winning the flag.
Lots of collective groaning from the assembled throng.
It was very obvious for everyone in the cheap seats to see, after about ten minutes of the first quarter, that we were looking at the 2010 Premiers in action.
Swans crunched with no mercy in the backs; forwards completely impotent against dogged defence and tall timber.
Systematically demolished in all aspects of the game.
Not a single winner on the park all night.
It's all very well and good that Sydney has got the Son of Gary, but Geelong of course, has the Son of God!
The Pontiff's Seed Is Strong.
Enough said.
He had a blinder.
Remarkable that we remained in our seats past the Championship quarter, just to witness the Swans being toyed with, and said so much in no uncertain terms in the barracking.
But, no one was listening.
In an unprecedented move, we decided to join the ever growing exodus out of the ground after ten minutes of the final quarter as the massacre by then was just too painful to witness any longer, with Geelong in front by a full 14 goals, yes you read right, 14 goals, forgetting the ridiculous number of Sydney behinds, by which time any interest in barracking was gone.
Simply no point.
It was all the more painful given that the Geelong players were under strict instructions from the coach at the last break to take their foot right off the accelerator pedal, relax, conserve energy, prevent any opportunity for injury, while they benched their star players, and still the Swans were on struggle street.
As the Good Lady Wife succinctly put it during three quarter time:
"It looks as if the Swans are a semi-decapitated mouse, with it's little legs still twitching about, while it's being pawed at by some hideously ugly cat, before being swallowed whole".
Not interested in ever seeing that sort of thing again.
Found ourselves on the very first event bus out of the joint, the "Miserable Express", while beating myself up by drafting in my head a well worded letter to the people in the Sydney ticket office, demanding my money back having had the misfortune of attending three pitiful losses in three games at Homebush this season.
Then wearily factored in the why bother factor, and gave up.
Simply no point.
Sydney people are very quick to shun losers; even the seriously inflated crowd figure was the second smallest at the Western Paddock since the Swans started playing there the year after the Olympics.
There was no one in.
Absolutely no pressure on the bars; in fact there were beer pourers standing around twidling their thumbs, who were more than happy to take the time to prepare you a couple of tumblers of cheeky Shiraz [just 60c more than the execrable ale], while they would have re-frozen plenty of left over steak-and-kidney pies for next year.
They were pulling down the shutters on the food outlets at half time.
SC Roos made his first sense in weeks defining the team's finals prospects on interview after the match as "we'll just be making up the numbers".
"the huge talent gap is insurmountable, at present" sums it up nicely.
While the ladder position might still look reasonable on paper, with no one really breathing down their necks, 9&9 nonethless points to a season through the S-bend with the run home to come, all confidence gorn, and the team playing like shot birds, and a Mad Monday on the 30th of August.
Now, if ever there was one, is the time for a session in the Room Full of Mirrors down on the Balmain Road.
Everyone involved could benefit from taking a good hard look at themselves.
Despite all that, doubt that St Paul would have spent much time on pulling his hair out at Sunday morning smoko down by the Magic Waters, leaving that up to The Horse, but there would have been plenty of that far away look as he gazed out to sea contemplating the fact that you are "a long time retired" in this caper.

SYDNEY: 3.7, 4.12, 5.16, 9.18 (72). Goals: Goodes 3, Bolton 2, Jack, Kennedy, White, Kirk
GEELONG: 5.1, 10.1, 18.3, 20.5 (125). Goals: Johnson 6, Ablett 3, Mooney 3, Ottens, Varcoe, Hunt, Kelly, Byrnes, West, Ling, Mackie.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 30,710.

Haven't seen a single frame of the Tiges match as it was played simultaneously as the Swans game.
You don't get any League score updates at The Rules.
Would have jumped at the chance to swap my Swans tickets for a seat at Leichhardt Oval on Saturday night, but sadly, it was perfectly clear that the Swans tickets were unloved and unwanted and effectively worthless.
Spies who were at the ground suggest it was yet another case of Balmain being handed a get out of jail card free, against a side with a caretaker coach who are running stone motherless last in the comp, this time courtesy of a benevolent Bamford!
You don't see that very often.
Those close to the action, as best as they could reckon, say a hapless Sharkie was denied a perfectly good try in the dying minutes that would have won them the game, after he was ruled to have infringed the "fair advancement of the ball at the try line" rule [a fancy new name for a "double-movement", apparently] when it was clear the bloke was not tackled, was not held, and had used the not-illegal advantage of momentum to plonk the ball on the chalk.
But all accounts, it was a further example of how real time action observed by the naked eye on the spot beats slo-mo replays every time, because as everyone knows, the television lies, and yet the decision comes down to a legally blind referee looking at a crystal bucket and it's taken out of the hands of the man who was there, but who wasn't quite 100% sure of what it was that he actually saw.
Who'd be an umpire?
Little wonder the Sharks were spitting chips and then spewing about being robbed blind, and told everyone within ear shot who wanted to know, but its a conundrum that will never be solved.
Not that the Leichhardt faithful cared one bit.
It's only a good excuse to have that extra schooner in the Orange Grove Hotel on the way home, while disecting the game in the post-mortem.
The only other highlight of the fixture in the bush telegraph reports was Benji being given a rollicking Bronx cheer when he finally kicked a goal.
The home crowd are on to him.
Thinking the win mathematically guarantees Balmain a berth in the top eight - could be wrong there - but there is certainly now a log jam for a top four spot, which is worth its weight in shiny shiny gold in the Hairy Clarke finals system employed by the NRL.
SC Sheens would have just scratched that one in the "we'll take our wins" column in the Coach's Ledger, and think nothing more of it, while the Club Secretary would be looking to give that old cash register in the back of the Revenue Office a good polish, as it's been unused for five years, on account of it only goes ching! ching! in September.

WESTS TIGERS 24. Tries: Fulton (2), Brown, Lawrence, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (2).
CRONULLA-SUTHERLAND SHARKS 22. Tries: Collis (2), Ferguson, Gardner. Goals: Porter (3).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 14,942.