Bleachermen,
Left my hat in Melbourne.
Don't know where, otherwise it would still be on my head, but probably in some small bar on the crawl back to the hotel after the G.
Could have been on the first floor terrace of a former brothel at the top of Bourke St with a marvellous view of the Parliament building.
It was a nice hat.
A Robert Trimboli style straw fedora, that had just started to get that look of lived-in tattered elegance.
Just one of a few things that went wrong.
Never did check the Swans recent record at the MCG before booking flights, accomodation and tickets.
Should have.
Turns out that the G, where the Swans rarely play, probably for good reason, is the quintessential hoodoo ground for them.
Sydney have now lost 12 of the last 13 games they've played there.
If, and the operative word is "if", they get back there in September, they will be odds-on to lose again.
It wasn't exactly a bumper crowd that flocked to the game.
No expert on estimating crowds, of course, but be buggered if the joint was more than a quarter full.
After brunching in the finest French cake shop in all of Melbun, ducked into Young & Jackson's for a couple of sneaky snifters, and then got on an almost empty express football tram on Flinders St -- and in a town renowned for turning out to watch two flies crawl up a wall -- they weren't exactly thronging the turnstiles.
Would have had plenty of time to go to the Richmond face painting tent and ask them to black me up; "make me look like Goodesy, will ya?"
At least there was a Richmond clown dressed in all the funny gear from head to toe who was getting a lot of photographs taken of him.
Hard to know if he was just some random wild-eyed lunatic supporter or a club employee.
If it's the latter, all clubs should follow suit - every team needs a certified clown.
It appears that Richmond are not very popular, and who can blame their few loyalists, coming into the match off the back of six straight losses?
If fact, there were almost as many South Melbourne fans there as Tigers followers.
Among them were ancient diehards who are still wearing the by now threadbare pre-re-location to Sydney scarves
Vintage hand knitted red and white jumpers also made an appearance on some of the more distinguished old ladies.
The G is certainly the most spectacular stadium in the country.
The sightlines are magnificent.
Haven't been there since standing in standing room for the 1987 VFL Grand Final; the day that David Rhys-Jones won the Norm Smith Medal for closing down Dermott Brereton and keeping him from playing any significant role in the game.
The year that Lil' Johnny Platten -- who also played on the day along with Robert Dipierdomenico and Bruce "The Flying Dormat" Doull -- won the Brownlow in a tie with Plugger.
The joint has been pretty much transformed since then, but not sure if it's any better than the old ground for the ordinary patron.
Sure, the Great Southern Stand is an imposing edifice and the view from the new Members Bar in the new Members Stand would be pretty much heaven on earth for any footy/cricket fan; however, to fit close to 100,000 seats into the place, the raking is quite shallow and there's next to no leg room.
The back office hasn't been organised very well either.
Spent a long time looking for toilets, and in fact never found them, given that we are now both on walking sticks in public venues, just used the cripple bogs that were the only ones available on the same level as the concourse in front of the Olympic Stand where we were.
Hello?
Tried to put a bet on the Goodes Train kicking the first goal of the match [which he did at $9] but never got close to finding a TAB outlet despite asking for directions from clueless attendants; saw a couple of prominent signs that pointed to the alleged "Gate 3 Sportsbar", but the signs just led into an outdoor dead end with nothing in it.
What the?
Not a patch on the brilliant simple efficiency of the Olympic Stadium at Homebush, where each pair of bays has its own bar, fast food outlet, toilet block and smoking lounge all the way around the ground.
It would be very easy to get lost at the MCG.
Swans were never in it from the get go.
It was apparent very early on.
Just didn't turn up to play.
No mojo working.
Won the ruck marginally, but had nothing going on in the midfield and the forwards were as flaky as ever, while the backs appeared to be asleep on the job.
Mummy tried hard, but found himself outclassed.
Poor Teddy Richards would have had his worst game ever, allowing Reiwoldt the Younger to crawl all over him and set up goal kicks at will.
The Hanneberry Kiddie battled on bravely all day, but had next to no support in the midfield; Rhino, Son of Gary, and co were all missing in action and once again the Goodes Train was asked to do far too much, and ended up doing not much, as his old legs were shown up to be a yard or two short by some of the Richmond youngsters, who don't have even a fraction of his skills.
The Train, did tho, take an absolute screamer just inside the 50 that would without doubt be in the top ten candidates for Mark Of The Year.
At least that was worth the price of admission alone.
The Great Irishman was clearly playing on one leg, and Oddhead and Jack both looked a bit proppy for mine.
Kicking a total of seven goals in a game that goes on for far too long is never going to win you football matches on the wide open spaces of the G on a perfect day.
Beaten 3-2 in the Champo Quarter, but still in with a chance at three-quarter time, only to be blown out of the water in the first ten minutes of the last; game over.
The Good Lady Wife has a finely attuned football brain, and so reduced her analysis of the match to just one word: "rubbish".
It was nice of her to find it in the goodness of her heart not to round on me for taking her to the Athens of the South on false pretences.
The long and the short of it was that it doesn't matter if they make the finals or not, there was no pleasure or enjoyment to be had in watching another season crash and burn with your very own eyes.
Oh no.
On interview, Coach Horse described the whole affair as "inexcusable", but stopped short of issuing a blanket apology to the fans.
Why?
He should have gone the whole hog and told anyone who wants to listen that he'd sent the entire team for a couple of sessions this week in the Room Full Of Mirrors down on the Balmain Rd and told a select group of players that they have to write out one hundred lines saying "can do better" to be presented to the Club Secretary by Tuesday afternoon.
Late in the evening, we came upon a busker in some laneway who saw the scarf around my neck and started singing some ditty that mentioned Paul Roos and John Longmire and some witty line with a play on the words "Roos" and "Lose" - we didn't stop to listen, or drop a coin in his hat [although toyed with the idea of giving him a 5c bit], and just stumbled on by, having had it up to our necks by then.
The reason for my weekend abscence from the Front Bar at The Local had been noted, so when my head was sheepishly ducked in mid-week, the Brown Brothers just sniggered behind the sleeves of their work overalls before laughing out loud amongst themselves.
Without saying a word, approached the Philospher, who seems to have gone back to the brandy, lime & soda's this week.
He just said to me, without prompting, "Oh, shit. Sorry to hear about that, mate. An all-round fiasco, then?"
Had an idea of his general meaning, but fiasco is not a word that you hear in everday conversation, so went home and looked it up.
fiasco, n, [fee-as-koh]. A complete and ignominious, absolute, abject or utterly humiliating failure.
RICHMOND: 1.4, 5.8, 8.12, 14.15 (99). Goals: Nahas 3, Riewoldt 2, Martin 2, Vickery, Houli, Deledio, Miller, King, Morton, Cotchin.
SYDNEY: 2.6, 3.9, 5.11, 7.14 (56). Goals: Kennedy 2, O'Keefe 2, Goodes, Meredith, Bird.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 34,337.
The regulation win they had to have.
And there's yr purple patch for ya - five wins on the trot deep into the season - nothing better.
Never in doubt at the foot of the mountains against the Chocolate Soldiers.
A match they were expected to win and did comfortably.
Penrith have a half way decent pack, but their backs are not really competitive, especially with Jennings suspended; rubbed out by the club board for a week, for turning up to training last week, still pissed.
Now, there's a bloke for whom Mad Monday can't come soon enough.
The Farah/Masrshall show on fire for the third week running put the thing to bed before half time, really.
It should be easy to coach against, but SC Sheens has made sure it's not; his set plays get more clever week by week, thinking that there's nothing like rugby league players thinking about what they are doing exactly, and then thinking about executing a plan for points.
For the most part, in the 13 man caper, it works...every time.
As a coach, you just have to have a feel for each man's football brain and intelligence; you know what skills and stamina he has.
If That Pom Ellis hasn't been man of the match for four games out of the last five in the purple patch, hat-eating would be in order.
Scored two tries as if he wasn't really trying - extraordinary - just steam rollered over would be tacklers, clocked the really big blokes with a stiff arm, muscled his way through a brick wall as if it wasn't there, and burrowed the ball into the try line like some kind of blind mole with no inches to spare.
Looks like SC Sheens' novel idea of taking the team down to the south coast to get away from the "distractions of Sydney" and putting them in "camp" for a few days at Kiama last week in order to concentrate their minds, appeared to be a good idea.
Moving the boys around at short notice makes it harder to pry for the football spies from clubs you might play in the finals, who tend to come out of the woodwork at this time of year.
Don't want yr strategy known to the enemy, let alone broadcast in the press.
PENRITH PANTHERS 18. Tries: Waterhouse, Purtell, Walker. Goals: Walsh (3).
WESTS TIGERS 32. Tries: Ellis (2), Farah, Heighington, Ryan, Moltzen. Goals: Marshall (4).
At Penrith Football Stadium.
Crowd: 15,152.
