Umbrellarists,
It was a fairly typical autumn weather week in the Emerald City, before the advent of climate change.
Completely normal.
Coastal showers followed by more heavy coastal showers, with the diurnal range starting to bite.
About 80mm in the gague at Camp Campsie over five days, so it was always bound to be a heavy track at HQ.
In the end, the players destroyed the centre square, and the SCG groundsmen would have been after both teams muddy guernsey's and shorts to put through the copper to wash out the priceless black Bulli soil to re-cycle as top-dressing in the summer.
You could see why the Goodes Train had his cranky head on, as it's hard to say whether he ever had a clean take of the soap-cake ball in the entire match, and spent most of his time clocking opposition players and knocking them over, and pointing and glaring at his own blokes.
Forgot a few times that he's given up the captaincy.
Never mind.
The current two skippers were Best on Ground, for mine.
3 votes Odd Head for being the most mud covered player on the ground.
2 votes Son of Garry for sitting on and shutting down Son of God.
1 vote for the Haneberry Kiddie just for being a top bloke.
Special mention should also be made of Spida Jnr and The Crazy Canadian.
Just for throwing their weight around in the bog.
After the Champo, the result, of course, was never in doubt.
With Gold Coast tired and pretty much in disarray, the floodgates were always going to open after three-quarter time, and with six goals in the denoument, so it came to pass.
A game that never looked like achieving great heights.
SC Horse would take very little from it, apart from the improvement in match fitness and being a good training run in the wet.
And they're bound to encounter some of that in the completely insane road trip they are about to embark on.
Pop down to Hobart to play North at 'home', then back to HQ for the trifling matter of a game against Geelong, on a rarely scheduled Friday night in Sydney, before rowing across The Ditch to take on the out-of-sorts and under-manned Saints on Anzac Day at The Cake Tin in Wellington, of all gawd forsaken places.
Still, after unfurling The Flag - which actually looks more like a pennant, as it should - at home for the first time as defending premiers, might as well take The Champions of the World on an international overseas tour to spread the love.
Whoever the bright spark was who dreamt that up was a dead-set genius.
SYDNEY: 2.1, 6.4, 11.10, 17.12 (114). Goals: McVeigh 4, Everitt 2, Parker 2, Pyke 2, O'Keefe 2, McGlynn, Bolton, Kennedy, Jack, Jetta
GOLD COAST: 2.2, 3.4, 8.6, 11.7 (73). Goals: Dixon 3, Hall 2, Matera, Hutchins, Shaw, Day, May, Smith.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd 20,372.
What a silly game of football.
Tigers cruelly caned in the penalty count to the ridiculous tune of 14-7!
The Umpires certainly liked the sound of the little birdie singing in their whistles.
Never mind that Balmain came to play smart and dirty, and were officially warned no less than three times about pinning the player down in the tackle to slow down the play-the-ball, and were threatened with the skipper being sent to the sin bin in the end, while the Best Leb in the Game consistently held that line with the Bamfords', "but it wasn't us, yr honour, we never done it, honest".
As Joey Johns said on the wacky MMM radio commentary in Dad's Shed "giving the referee a bit of lip is like talking to yr wife or girlfiend, it doesn't matter if she's right or wrong, there is absolutely no point in going on with it".
Trying something different by playing Robbie out of position a bit, effectively giving him a roving brief through the back line and the Great Benji handing over the goal kicking duties to Braith Anasta; a job he had at the Roosters - he's a better sharp-shooter at the black dot, anyway - were both smart moves.
With the forward pack putting in some very solid work, it worked a treat for the first 60 minutes, but then, all of a sudden, without warning, the Bamfords went off their tits, and Melbourne ran in three unanswered tries off penalties to put the thing in the dilly bag as the fat lady started singing.
Fancy leading 12-6 at half time, and getting done 26-12 through no real fault of your own [sort of]?
Rules are made to be broken, but still, robbed blind.
Captain Farah, on interview after the game understated the matter: "I am sure some of the penalties were warranted...there were some that were frustrating and my view was different on them to the refs view."
Coach Harry would probably be perplexed, as he can see that even if the refs are on your side, the truth is the Mighty Tiges will struggle to be competetive with the really good sides this season, and in a comp with no real also-rans - anyone can win anything on their day - they'll have to continue to win at home and snag a few away to have any hope at all of making the top eight.
But that should go without saying.
Mildly comforting that Balmain have played the two most likely Grand Finalists this season in the last two weeks, so handy to get them out of the way this early on.
However, Mr Potter will have to put his thinking cap on, followed by his wizard's hat, to get them out of the bottom eight on the table, even in the near term.
To make matters worse, Marshall has done a mischief to his toe, of all things, and could be out for any number of weeks you might nominate - there's been no word from Sick Bay, on the fear that it looks bad.
If that's the case; season over.
And two Balmain players, including Anasta, have been rubbed out for a week on hastily cobbled-together trumped-up "dangerous contact" charges.
What next, Fawlty?
MELBOURNE STORM 26. Tries: Cronk, Fonua, Vave, Waqa. Goals: Smith (4), Widdop (1).
WESTS TIGERS 12. Tries: Marshall, Tedesco. Goals: Anasta (2).
At Melbourne Rectangular Stadium.
Crowd: 18, 866.
