Hillites,
The first thing observed on shambling into Leichhardt Oval on Friday evening was two NSW cops on bicycles.
Oh dear.
Utterly ridiculous.
What were they thinking?
With thousands of punters crawling all over the hill, the terraces and in the stand, what hope did plod ever have of getting around on two wheels?
The sergeant who sent them there had either never been to a football match in his life, or is as dumb as a fence post; probably both.
In any case, the pair of hapless constables soon realised that they were fools to themselves and a burden on the community, and pedalled on out of the ground, never to return.
At the bar, ran into a well known lunatic regular at The Oval.
She's a wizened, loud-mouthed woman about my age who sports something of a mohawk hairdo and stands dwarf like at about 4'9" tall, if that, and is always dressed in the same Balmain kit from the seventies.
She was saying to no one in particular [because no one listens to her], as she chugged away on a durrie, "that's the thing I love about fookin' Leichhardt, the whole farkin' place is a designated smoking area!! Reckon us smokers should start putting out our butts up the arses of them wowser non-smokers, don't y'reckon?".
Never been one to be short of an opinion.
In an interesting segue, soon afterwards went into the dunnies for a pre-game straining of the potatoes, looked down, and saw an almost full packet of Stuyvo's that had obviously been accidentally dropped in the trough.
They were ruined of course, and the owner of the urine soaked fags would have been spewing, dead set.
Unusually for Leichhardt, things had gone awry with the catering.
On entry to the ground there were no pies available.
What the?
"Sorry luv, there's been a mix up with the pies, there should be some later" said the granny behind the snack bar.
Never saw any evidence of them for the rest of the game.
If there ever were pies, you'd expect to see a dropped one or two on the ground here and there.
After that, things did not auger well from the off, as the Tigers let in two soft, tatty tries; one of which it must be said came off the back of a plain wrong decision by the Bamfords; it could have been a technical infringement in the play the ball, there might have been a hint of offside, or something completely different, but who knows?
Every punter was shaking their head and asking the person next to them "what on earth went on there?", looking for the explanation that never came.
Standing, as we do, on the terrace at the 20 metre line at the Swimming Pool End, where the Tigers were kicking to in the first half, we hardly ever saw the ball in front of us, as Balmain made one single solitary line break in the entire first half.
The fact of the matter was they were being hammered relentlessly down the other end.
Wests were playing rubbish and getting severely punished in defence as a result.
What attack there was just looked so predictable, and hence inffective, without the Best Leb In The Game driving the engine room, with the bloke away on State-of-Origin duties.
No doubt at half time, SC Sheens would have inserted a rocket up the rectum of each and every player, while saying a few choice words.
The Good Lady Wife ventured to suggest that the Supercoach in his half time address might have said to them "If you think you played anything other than crap football in that half, you have rocks in your head" followed by an expletive or something similar.
Whatever he said, it worked
And, on the face of it, 0-10 down at half-time still looked manageable.
Things continued to go not so good when soon after half the ice cold $6 cans of Carlton and VB ran out.
Don't know that it's ever happened before; maybe the punters were just unusually toey and thirsty.
But then Balmain ran in two class tries off some well worked play by the forwards, and they were back in it.
When Matty Utai crawled his way over the line in the 63rd minute for what was effectively the match winning try, wriggling like a worm in what looked for all the world like a double movement, but the Bamford ruled he wasn't effectively tackled and so was entitled to continue to play the ball, and blew the whistle and pointed at the spot, the crowd went absolutely apeshit, as they do at Leichhardt.
No finer venue for that kind of noise in world sport.
With Farah absent, the centres all moved in a spot with Humble going to hooker, where he was uncomfortable.
Benji played really well, but his temporary move to half back didn't quite work, for mine - he's really a specialist five eighth - but he certainly remembered to bring his kicking boots with him, potting all four conversions, with two of the goals coming in from difficult angles way out on the touch line.
In the final paralysis - the difference between winning and losing.
Seen many games of better football, but the Balmain supporters wandering the back streets of Rozelle when it was over weren't complaining, and why should they?
On interview after the game, SC Sheens made an observation on ficklessness, saying "early in the season we were criticised for not grinding it out, and now that we are grinding it out, we are being accused of not playing like the Wests Tigers".
He didn't go on to say he couldn't care less about pleasing all the fans all the time, but he might as well have.
Knows the value of any win, any way you can, "at this time of year".
Looked forward to popping my head around the front door of the Front Bar at The Local on Saturday morning.
Noticed that the Brown Bros were in as usual, so just yelled out "Gotcha!"
The boys instinctively ducked for cover, and then looked all sheepish when they saw my visage, but they beckoned me to come in as they poured me a schooner from their jug.
After some back-slapping, we discussed the in and outs of the match in a quiet and sociable way.
Most convivial people they are; the antithesis of sore losers.
The Philospher took a keen interest in the conversation, but declined to participate, saying not word.
He just smiled and nodded his head as he nursed a glass of bone dry sherry.
On exiting the bar to go down to the shops, one of the Bros called out "no worry bru! We'll see you in the Grand Final, eh! That'd be choice, eh, bru?"
Bless.
WESTS TIGERS 24. Tries: Moltzen, Ryan, Tuqiri, Utai. Goals: Marshall (4).
NEW ZEALAND WARRIORS 22.Tries: Hurrell (2), Henry, Tupou. Goals: Maloney (3).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 16,406.
Well, if you don't beat Melbun by at least ten goals in the current set-up, you might as well pick up your ball, pack your things away in your kit, go home, and give the game away.
Sad.
There was absolutely nothing at all to be learned from this match.
Perhaps the only thing of note was the deliciously ironic fact that in the fixture that marked the 30th anniversary of the forcible shift of South Melbourne to Sydney, the Best On Ground was Keiran "Son of Gary" Jack, the spawn of one of the greatest rugby league legends of all time.
But, there really should be a mercy rule.
Torture serves a purpose, and is all well and good in itself, except for when it goes on too long.
Under the rule, once a team leads by 100 points, the game is declared over, and the winners are awarded 15 bonus points to go towards their percentage.
The losers can suit themselves.
Speaking of long, drawn out spanking sessions, this game was a classic advertisment for AFL games to by shortened by five minutes a quarter, with five minutes also shaved off the ridiculously long half time break, to reduce the total match time by the length of a current quarter.
Not one to go on like a pork chop about it - it won't happen of course - but you know it makes sense.
You have to wonder what it'd be like to be a Demons fan at present.
Wholly disappointing, you'd expect, and while they probably accept that the club is going through a rough trot, they'd certainly be saying whatever they pay their players is too much.
My spy at the ground found himself utterly uninspired by anything that went on, witnessed by what he described as a "poor crowd".e telegraphed through the message that the crowd figure was clearly cooked in the books, saying there was no way they would have got anywhere near 18 thousand in - unless they counted everyone in the bars - in Paddington.
Par for the course.
And those who were actually there, began streaming out of the ground at half-time.
With that silly 4.40pm start time again, for me, must say that whipping up a cheeky pancetta & portobello mushroom risotto took precedence over watching the last quarter on the crystal bucket.A tawdry affair that everyone very quickly became disinterestered in.
Not to worry.
Four points in the dilly bag.
Next!
SYDNEY: 7.1, 11.4, 16.9, 21.12 (138). Goals: Parker 3, Jack 3, Jetta 3, Kennedy 3, Walsh 2, Dennis-Lane 2, McGlynn 2, O'Keefe, Reid, Mattner
MELBOURNE: 0.3, 1.5, 2.7, 5.7 (37). Goals: Jones 2, Green, Sylvia, Bennell.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 20,818.
