Seafarers,
Some people get spooked by Hobart.
There have been yachtsmen of my acquaintance who do it year after year, in the full knowledge that the place generally gives them the creeps.
Some people have even been known to suffer from Paris Syndrome.
Especially during The Quiet Little Drink.
The symptoms usually include throwing yrself on the ground, then twirling about like a Whirling Dervish, and banging yr head into walls while loudly uttering gibberish - completely unable to attend to any task at hand.
Not the Swans, or me, but North Melbourne were prime candidates for a positive diagnosis.
After a customary slow start, the Championship Quarter was just about the best quarter of football you could possibly pay to see.
With North suffering from utter helplessness, it was as if Sydney had the Midas Touch on everything.
The Stats Guru was delighted to send in a telegraph message saying it's been 18 years since The Bluds have kicked eleven goals between half and three-quarter time.
And added "that should tell you something".
The fishwraps were struggling for superlatives and could only come up with "astonishing" "stunning" "blistering".
Best described, for mine, as a total destruction of a demoralised, deranged enemy's front lines with heavy artillery.
No survivors.
After going completely missing in the opening stanza, Odd Head went on to play Best on Ground up front for the second time in as many matches to pick up some kind of medal named after an obscure Tasmanian who no one has ever heard of who played a few games for North back in the day, sometime then.
Mr Malceski came in a close second down back, followed by the entire attacking mid-field, collecting one Brownlow vote - each.
You couldn't possibly out flank that and the full-on remorseless assault was as close to perfect as anyone could imagine.
What ever else happened didn't really matter.
It would have made more than a few rival coaches sit up in their straight-jackets and take notice.
On interview after the game, SC Horse was asked about the Champo and just said "we've got a pretty hardened bunch of blokes here".
Thinking that he was saying match fitness is now up to scratch, they put in the hard yards on the training track, and are playing rather well.
And it's all done through orthodox methods.
Fancy.
No need to inject snakey substances into the eyes of the players, there doesn't appear to be any elephant juice designed to make horses go faster floating around in the back room, and the medical staff are well aware that's it's all gone downhill since Cuz won a Brownlow on ice.
Besides, everyone's happy with the old fashioned way.
The players know they get their reward after the game - a couple of ice cold schooners and a hot pie & sauce in a brown paper bag.
And...Bob's your uncle...
NORTH MELBOURNE: 4.2, 7.8, 8.11, 13.14 (92). Goals: J Bolton 4, McGlynn 3, Hannebery 3, Goodes 2, McVeigh 2, Parker 2, Everitt, Kennedy, Jetta, O’Keefe.
SYDNEY: 3.4, 5.6, 16.10, 20.11 (131). Goals: Thomas 3, Cunnington 2, Hansen 2, Tarrant 2, Wells, MacMillan, Wright, Goldstein.
At Bellerive Oval, Hobart.
Crowd: 13,221.
The SCG is an anachronistic ground to be playing rugby league at it in this day and age, which is probably why they schedule only one game there a year.
It's the worst viewing ground for the code in all of Sydney, with the stands set so far back from the playing rectangle; spectators are a mile away.
But it was the Heritage Round nonsense; Balmain played in Western Suburbs colours to mark the 50th anniversary of the 1963 Grand Final between St George and Western Suburbsb which was played on the hallowed turf [Wests lost in the knee deep mud, by the way].
But, last Sunday's match never came anywhere near close to greatness, and was in fact a tawdry affair from start to finish.
Tigers robbed blind in the early part, with the opening try disallowed due to a non-existent obstruction, and the second try disallowed due to a non a existent shoulder charge.
And then the Bamfords missed a blatant forward pass from the Dragons, and in they went.
What the?
Should have been up 12-0 after ten minutes but it was still 0-0 after half an hour.
Despite officialdom conspiring against them, the truth is the Tigers had too many passengers and made too many mistakes.
A gallant comeback in second half was undone by three dropped balls in the denoument and a bloody one-point field goal with two minues left on the clock by that prick Soward.
Turns out harsh words were spoken between Farah and Soward in a shirt pulling incident just before half-time
Seems Soward put in a particularly offensive sledge on Farah, who thought about clocking the bloke until Soward realised in a second that he had said was wrong, and instantly apologised.
Neither was saying after the game what it was all about, insisting "we've both agreed to leave that on the field".
But you could imagine it might have something to do with Farah's life long mate, a Sydney Airport baggage handler and major league drug importer who's facing a long stretch at The Bay for stacks of kilo's, who Farah gave a character reference for at the sentencing hearing last week, you know "he's a good kid, known him all my life, quiet as a mouse, respectful of his elders, loves his Mum...", that sort of thing.
Little wonder Soward is widely detested for being a serial pest, no one likes a loudmouth who looks like some kind of weird deformed weazel.
Even though Soward is probably the best exponent of kicks-in-play in the caper and is the premier field goal marksman, and won the game off his own bat, he commands no respect, from anyone of any stripe.
Coach Harry would have less hair on his head than he had at the start of the game as he pulled it out in great tufts.
In his first year coaching a first grade side, he's be miffed that he had no honeymoon period to speak of and presided over a team that's 2 & 4 after six and 13th on a ladder of 16.
The Club Secretary has shown the new boy how to work the antique abacus in the office, but however much they whirr the beads, it doesn't changes the numbers.
No Marshall, no cigar, in short and simple terms for the next little bit.
With the Great Benji out for a minimum of six weeks with a toe mischief [Club Doctor: "A shocker. Worst toe I've ever seen. Blew up to the size of salami, and was as black as the ace of spades with purple edges. Dead set."], the season teeters on a knife edge.
Mr Potter would be happy enough to have the week off with a round of representative games on this weekend and club football in abeyance.
He might even slot in a personal, private, first-ever visit to the Room Full of Mirrors down on the Balmain Road, just to see what it's like.
WESTS TIGERS 12. Tries: Moltzen, Murdoch-Masila. Goals: Anasta (2).
ST GEORGE-ILLAWARRA DRAGONS 13. Tries: Cooper, Morris, Vidot. Field Goals: Soward (1).
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 21,844.
