Bleacherites,
After sneaking into the ground on a spare Member's ticket [nice one, Trev], found myself perched on the edge of my seat, hanging over the guardrail in front of the chairs reserved for cripples on the top deck of the Brewongle Stand at the denoument, with all ten nervous fingers firmly stuffed in my gob, watching as the pill flitted and skipped into the Swans forward line.
Odd Head was the loose man in front of an open goal square as the Adelaide defence struggled to get back.
All McVeigh needed to do was arrest the progress of the ball, pivot, drop it onto the boot, and kick the match winning six-pointer.
Only problem was, just when he got the thing in his hands, the full time siren sounded.
The clock was stopped at 30m59s.
Not a second less, not a second more.
Joisus.
Heads in hands as far as the eye could see.
Done in by the Official Time Keeper, after being robbed blind by the umpires.
Swans appeared to be constantly pinged for every technical infringement in the book, while the opposition were allowed to get away scot free with blatant holding the ball, dropping the ball, illegally disposing the ball, not to mention the incessant holding the man in the ruck contest and when the ball landed at full forward.
Another very tawdry display from the Bamfords.
But, hey, what do expect?
Apparently this round was the Be Kind to Umpires Round as the culmination of the AFL's Bamford's Appreciation Week.
According to the official account, the officials wanted some feedback from supporters on how they do their job, so we gave them some, don't you worry about that.
The appeal to not call officialdom by nasty names fell on deaf ears.
Purple patch over.
Sydney appeared to be all at sea in the opening term; no structure in the mid field, defence floundering, and certainly no attack.
The classic 'slow start' for which they have become rightly famous.
Got the mojo working in the second, poking the ball forward on every possible occasion while wrong footing the Crows defence, to get back on level terms more or less at the long break.
Relaxed and comfortable with that.
The half time smoking lounge is the same as it was last year, out on a closed off Driver Ave, and you need a passout to get there.
Until this innovation, it's was a long long time ago since passouts were issued at the SCG.
It's wrong that the politically correct rules and regulations say you can't take your drink out with you to sip while you have a smoke on the street.
Why?
But no one was arguing with the 6'3" 140kg Samoan bouncer at the gate.
There is though the compensation, that once the couple of thousand chuggers have been banished outside, they disperse over a quite wide out-door area completely unpoliced, so it's eminently possible to thoroughly enjoy a "funny cigarette" under the Port Jackson fig trees with complete impunity.
We weren't alone.
Swans won the Championship Quarter convincingly, as they needed to do to take the lead, but were then blindsided in the final stanza after the Crows had scored a couple of quick soft goals, when the Goodes Train - who up to that point was Best on Ground by the length of the street - did himself a mischief and immediately retired himself to the bench, put on his favourite dressing gown, and called for his dog to fetch his pipe & slippers, and spent the rest of the proceedings as a spectator.
The match was won and lost there and then.
[As it turns out, Goodesy will be out buggered for up to six weeks because of it. A fair blow to the season.]
A striking feature of play was that the Swans were outplayed in the air all night, out marked, pure and simple.
Not that the Crows are that much taller, they were just better at it on the day, and it gave them superior control of the ball.
If they had utilised it well, they could have won by a very wide margin, but they didn't.
Their Walker Kiddie also has the longest kick on him seen on the ground in many a year - set shot goals from 65 metres out are a snap for him.
Also, have you noticed - and you only really can if you are at the match - how the handball has evolved into more of a rugby league pass [with no offside rule involved], in recent times?
The ball is heaved with both hands in a curving motion and the fist at the finish of the movement has little or no impact on the flight of the ball, and is only there to keep up pretences.
Back the day, most of the so-called handballs in the modern game would've been called throws.
The Jetta Kiddie had a mighty game; can comprehensively out-run anyone in the caper, they are feeding him properly so he's bulked up with the necessary upper body strength, and after two years of practice, can kick straight.
He's going places, big time.
JP Kennedy hasn't played a bad game all year, and while Bolts and Rhino did some good things, the bulk of the side did just enough, but there were also a few passengers for the first time this year who shall remain nameless.
They know who they are.
Not a big fan of the 7.40pm start.
Call me a weak invalid if you like, but even after haggling for a cab at Central, didn't get home until after midnight, which is not so good when you are old, tired, and emotional, and if you are a Country Member, like me Trev mate, after getting down to the park'n'ride depot on Liverpool St and driving directly back to Newcastle on the freeway, don't expect to get in through your front door before 1.30am.
Too late.
By the end of the game, the sole [yes, that's it, the only] creakingly slow disabled lift in the entire Brewongle Stand had ground to an almost complete halt, with more than a hundred cripples in various states of affliction waiting in line to get on board the bastard thing for the ridiculous ride down.
They would've been there all night by the looks, so was forced to stumble down six flights of stairs to the concourse level and exit, using my walking stick to fend off various unhinged buffoons.
Then waited in line for about 40 minutes for the event bus to Central.
But that wasn't the worst of it by any means.
Oh, no siree.
The random bus I had the extreme misfortune to get on filled up with hideous Adelaide fans, most of them awful middle-aged women in full regalia who had clearly been deranged by the drink.
Despite my telling them several times to "oh look, just 'shoosh' up, will you?" they paid no attention to me whatsoever and, probably for the first time on a Government bus in Sydney, insisted on loudly singing the Crows club song all the way through Surry Hills.
Some dreadful doggerel about being "the pride of South Australia" or some such nonsense.
Remind me.
What's it like to lose at home?
It's just appalling.
SYDNEY: 1.2, 7.6, 12.7, 14.10 (94). Goals: Goodes 5, O'Keefe 3, Jack 2, Jetta 2, Kennedy, Bolton.
ADELAIDE: 5.2, 8.3, 11.6, 15.9 (99). Goals: Walker 5, Petrenko 3, Callinan 3, Jaensch 2, Tippett, McKernan.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 23,969.
With the Tigers playing on the Gold Coast simultaneously as the Swans match, didn't see a frame of it, of course, not even on the newsreels.
But by the look of the scorebox, the Tigers have well and truly taken over the "Cardiac Kids" mantle from the Swans this year.
Three of their four wins this season have come by one-point margins, and they've also lost one by a bloody point!
Fancy that.
Had no spy at the ground up there, so the radio score updates were coming in on the crystal set surgically implanted in Trev's ear.
He reckons The Best Leb in the Game had a blinder by all reports.
Farah conjoured up a first half try out of thin air, made a charge down late in the game and attracted the penalty, with the resultant penalty goal leveling the scores at 14-14, and he then calmly slotted the field goal in a beautiful set-play inside the first couple of minutes of extra time for the win.
Well done.
But, of course, it will be situation normal next week, when Farah is overlooked by the NSW selectors.
For some completely unknown reason, ever since the late 80's and early 90's when Balmain supplied most of the NSW side, they have been shunned for representative honours, with hardly anyone playing in a black and gold strip getting a guernsey, not even in the '05 Miracle Year.
Unfathomable.
Inexplicable.
In his capacity as Captain, Farah didn't even turn up to the post match press conference, substituting Vice-Captain Benji instead, who said the skipper was heartily sick of all this talk about the Blues.
When pursued by the press into the car park being pestered about if he had anything to say at all, Robbie replied "Nah, mate".
At least the blowies got their quote.
And didn't Wests desperately need the win to go four and five?
SC Sheens would be more than happy to mark that one down in the "we'll take our wins" column in the Coach's Ledger, and take the week off.
Everyone will enjoy the traditional BBQ round at Robbie's place this week on the first bye weekend, when you get two premiership points in the dilly bag for doing nothing at all.
No doubt they'll ask the much loved [now retired due to cruel injury] Daniela Tuiaki to come on over and roast the whole pig - how they like it "islands' style".
He's reportedly very very good at it.
Goes well with beer, too.
Choice, eh bru?
GOLD COAST TITANS 14. Tries: Gordon, Mead. Goals: Sezer (3).
WESTS TIGERS 15. Tries: Ayshford, Farah. Goals: Marshall (3). Field Goals: Farah (1).
At Gold Coast Football Stadium.
Crowd: 14,254.
