Meteorologists,
Holy Camp Boy! 76 points in the game!
Whatever happened to early season defensive work?
Then again, you can understand it, with the mercury tipping 32 degrees in Paddington at the time of the kick off.
The Tigers, in retrospect, were fools to accept the local rules that called for a drinks break every 20 minutes.
After scoring two early tries, Balmain were cruelled by the Bamford when he said "do you want a drinks break, boys?"
Completely lost their momentum, and then The Chooks planted two soft tries on them.
By half time the backs were going ga-ga as their eyes did Marty Feldman impressions, and the forwards were frothing at the mouth like distressed standardbred racehorses, and the second stanza looked like a mere technicality.
You had to feel for the poor Timmy Moltzen kiddie, who had a shocker at full back.
No less than three Eastern Suburbs try scorers found themselves in the in-goal without Moltzen having laid a hand on them.
As the Good Lady Wife commented "maybe it's the metal plate that he has installed in the back of his skull, you know the one, the result of that accident he had when he was a schoolboy footballer; maybe in the heat, it's melted into his brain and sucked out all the 'play good football' hormones and nerve endings?"
As good a theory as any.
In his weekly letter home to his folks in Terrigal, Moltzen would have talked about the rigours of training and everything he'd had for breakfast, lunch and dinner in the week prior, before signing off "didn't play very well on Sunday".
SC Sheens would have pulled the unfortunate boy aside after the game for a quiet talking to, but you wouldn't have imagined that he came down very hard on the bloke.
It's probably too early in the season to send anyone to the Room Full of Mirrors down on the Balmain Road for a good look at themsleves.
Keefy "Bludnut" Galloway was the Tiges man-of-the match for mine, if you look at the pedometer he was carrying measuring the miles he ran, and the number of hit-ups and tackles he made.
On Monday morning, SC Sheens would have pulled out the leather bound Coaches Ledger kept in the Club Secretary's office, neatly ruled into two columns marked "we'll take our wins" and "we'll learn from our losses", and made his customary scratch in the second column.
Not quite back to the drawing board, but The Great Skando as forwards coach would know that he has some work to do, and SC Folkesy would be subjecting the detailed fitness and conditioning charts to some close scrutiny.
The Club Secretary would just shrug his shoulders as he totted up the gate takings dollars and cents at yet another long lunch.
Parramatta will be no cake walk in the park this Friday night, and while you can take an away loss on a bloodied nose, it doesn't take Einstein and his damnable Theory of General Relativity to work out the mathematical value of winning at home, even if the venues, strangely, are the same.
SYDNEY ROOSTERS 44. Tries: Graham (2), Guerra (2), Pearce (2), Aubusson, Minichiello. Goals: Carney (6).
WESTS TIGERS 32. Tries: Marshall (2), Tuqiri, Ayshford, Schirnack, Fifita. Goals: Marshall (4)
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 19,021.
