Crazy Craves

five bells

2012-01-29T04:34:00.001-08:00

Cathedralists,

Well, well, well.
What to make of MJ Clarke being undefeated in Test series since becoming Strayan Skipper?
The word on the street is that he has scored five tons, two of them very heavy, since assuming the top job, including the well documented triple in Sydney, backed up with the double on a six-lane highway masquerading as a pitch against a dispirited attack in Adelbrain, that was there for all to see.
All the shots, the trademark strokes.
Never mind the 27 boundaries and the elegant cover driving and the straight hitting, you'd have to wonder if there has been a better exponent of such stylish leg side play in the modern game?
Seems to have largely put the pull and the cut shots away, as he doesn't need them, which is a pity, as anything he hits through point is invariably pretty to watch.
Don't see it as much these days.
But MJ Clarke, still, has a credibility problem, despite scoring 594 test runs in not much more than a fortnight of cricket, and captaining the team in an exemplary fashion, which has been widely commented on by purists.
Why is it so?
Surely he can now be forgiven for being a precociously talented idiot buffoon in his yoof?
How long does that take for people to forget about it?
Let's face it, when the deposed Captain was asked before the last test about his relationship with the current Captain, Punter replied "I think we are both grown-ups".
You'd hope that the general public would realise this at some some stage of proceedings.
You only have to take the Siddler on the Roof picking up the Man of the Match Award for taking six wickets in the match and scoring two runs in Flat City; never mind Pup's 210, and the fact that Cockhead's 221 was quite likely a better knock altogether on the whole.
What the???
They begrudgingly gave Pup the Man of the Series Award, which was reportedly a small cream cake that you could barely cut into 12 pieces.
Big whoop.
My spy at the ground - who seemed to spend much of his time in the finest bar in world cricket - the salubrious air-conditioned Col Egar Bar [named after the late, good local Malvern boy, who became a famous test umpire and a legendary massive pisstank] - right down there at the River Torrens End with a perfect view of the ground through port-hole windows almost right behind the bowler's arm - was taken with some big-time Curry Munchers' fan who appeared at the ground dressed in the full Indian ODI kit, with "Match Fixer" in the name space on the back.
Nice touch.
Disturbingly, it appears the Col Egar is earmarked for demolition, in another appalling error of judgement.
If it's not broke, why fix it?
Everyday, some underpinning slips away...
Not here to say that the Indians were weak & feeble.
They had plenty of excuses; comprehensively outplayed for starters, the chai was obviously all wrong, and served in inappropriate china, the curried egg sandwiches at lunch just didn't cut the mustard, they weren't being taken to the right restaurants, the girls were fat and ugly, and they liked to whinge about each other behind each other's backs etc.
Not to mention the fact that they probably decided amongst themselves to throw the series completely from the outset and take the narrow margins on a Strayan clean-sweep on offer at the books.
However it was done, at 4-nil, 4-nil, 4-nil, 4-nil, some gloating is in order, especially after the Ashes Disaster a mere 12 months ago.
Pulled the tickertape off of the last cable that chattered in on the bush telegraph in the corner of the loungeroom from the sceret agent at the Oval, and it read: "STOP PRESS: Indian team seeks political asylum in Australia. Tendulkar honoured to drive your cab, when next in Adelaide".

backyard cricket at gate G in a thunderstorm

2012-01-09T03:30:00.001-08:00

Bleacherites,

Last Sunday evening, found myself at the Olympic Stadium for the Twenty20 match Sydney Thunder v Sydney Sixers, whoever they are, with me ol' mate Trev in the company of his two young lads aged ten and 15.
After the third and final, fatal, rain delay, a most extraordinary thing happened.
We went out to the smoking lounge near the toilets out the back of Bay 115.
Trev fished out a cricket bat about a third the size of a regulation willow from his bag, and a ball that was a touch heavier and bouncier than a tennis ball, and chucked to his two boys.
After they'd been hitting about aimlessly for a bit, caught the sight of three boys about 11 or 12 out of the corner of my eye, who were standing around taking a keen interest in the proceedings.
Suggested to Trev that he go over to his boys and suggest to them they ask the lads watching if they'd like hit.
The thing then took on a life of its own and went completely viral.
Soon there were half a dozen more boys playing, and it wasn't long before a couple of adults had cottoned on to it, and had set up some stumps using those tall witches hats, the ones with 'caution wet floor' on them, and organised a rudimentary field.
Then it was on; serious overam bowling.
More boys joined in, and then a wicketkeeper appeared in the form of a bearded hipster in his early twenties, who played very well with his bare hands.
He soon put in a slips cordon with his mates and it was on for young and old.
Boisterous play with the boys given their head to bowl and bat how they liked.
As if it was the most natural thing in the world, a chorus of older men had gathered behind the bowlers arm and became a vocal Umpire's Chorus, turning down most leg before appeals and stumpings and bump ball catches; but if you were out, they made sure that you knew you were out, and the bat was quickly passed to the kid bowler.
The Umpires Chorus were referred to the DRS once, when a particularly good stumping was given out by general acclamation.
A few of the young lads could play, and were smacking the ball all over the shop at pace, to the point where the rubber ball started to become a problem, as more younger boys became involved in the game, and they changed to a regulation tennis ball.
In the end there would have been more than a dozen batters and bowlers, but there were also more than 30 active fielders - so no one lasted at the crease very long - and in excess of 300 spectators, who had gathered around after being attracted by the loud noise and the cheering, with the match going on in the entry/exit chute next to the closed Gate G.
After about half an hour of observing this frenetic action, with real live thunderbolts and lightning all about, and the rain bucketing down big time on the stadium awning under which the game was being played, which was booming with the constant raucus appealing, security closed it down, saying there were too many people in such a confined space - and although they were called names and accused of being wankers - they were quite right for a change, and besides the main match had been declared dead and buried, and they were trying to close the ground.
In reality, it was in danger of getting out of hand, if it hadn't already,
Early on, me and Trev stepped out of the loop and just let it go, surveying the scene and looking at each other in astonishment saying "what have we started!!??"
In the dénouement, Trev boldly chested a security guard, so had to step in and subtly pull him off the bloke before there was any kind of fracas, and tell him in a quiet and sociable way to go get his bat and ball and go home.
Which we did, after the storm had moved off to the north-east and the rain had all but stopped.
The exuberant spontaneity was 100% politically incorrect in this day and age of absurd rules and over-regulation and public liabily etc etc - but jeez, just for that snap shot in time, it was so much illegal fun.
There was enough cricket played on the main arena to see Fidel Edwards off his long run -- funny to watch as he started his run up a few yards in from the insanely short boundary rope and the ball flew through to the keeper who was standing an equivalent number of yards in from the boundary at the other end!
Any bat that happened to connect with that sort of stuff would be guaranteed to send the ball twenty rows back.
Watching Chris Gale bowling off a three step run up was simply hilarious.
Bing Lee proved he can still play at his age by sending down a couple of overs at full pelt [then again, Bingers always did chuck his really quick short ball, so he's ideal for the format].
MA Starc took three wickets in four balls to have the Thunderbirds in all sorts of doggy do before the final deluge came, and yet the home side was still not saved by rain.
What the?
With the Pattinson Kiddie gorn for the season, you'd pick Starkers straight up for Perth, wouldn't you?
The only disappointment was that TSC MacGill failed to get out of his Zimmer frame at any stage, and didn't bat or bowl.
None of the other superstars involved in the match did much.
Think: Dunk, Floros, Coyte, Abbott, Mora, Nevill, and two Smiths among other household names.
The size of the crowd surprised - having seen plenty a Swans games at the ground thought it was more than 25K, so the offical attendance figure of 31,262 was just about right on the money, and there would have been more in, no doubt, if there hadn't been the threat of dodgy weather about.
Guessing that the people know what they want, and it aint outrageously overpriced test cricket.
Twenty20 is very keenly priced at just over $10 a ticket for a four game package deal and $20 for walk up general admission, so why not?
Cheap, fun, simple entertainment for the bread and circuses crowd.
Another interesting phenomenon was observed; at least two different groups of well dressed young folk who would have been in their mid 20's, who had with them one of those classic Tupperware circular trays with the compartments in it, you know the sort of thing, one holding the cabanossi, the next the cheese cubes on toothpicks, the next the gerkins and pickled onions, the next the olives, the next the crackers and french onion dip, the next the tinned asparagas spears wrapped in ham and devils an horseback etc etc.
Thinking that this was either a seriously retro statement, or that they had just been taught well about the finer things in life when it comes to finger foods by their Western Suburbs parents.
Who knows?
After it was all said and done, found an abandoned incandescent fluoro lime green wig that some bloke had thrown down on the Olympic Sprinter platform at Lidcombe station in an desultory fashion, and stomped on.
He was obviously unhinged by lunatic soup, and made filthy by the rain delays and the fact that the Thunderbirds were officially declared the losers under the Duckworth-McIntyre-Hare-Clarke-Lewis system.
How anyone could possibly conjour up a winner out of that mess has got me and Trev beat.
Somehow, the laughable toupée ended up on my bonce.
Enough to do your head in.

fruit for the sideboard

2012-01-06T19:16:00.001-08:00

Canine fanciers,

The Knight in Shining Armour on an impressive white steed appears on the ground with Straya at 3/37, and dismounts.
Oh, the Majesty!
The Imperious cover driving, the Right Royal square cutting, the Imperial straight hits, the Celestial leg side play...and it just seemed to go on and on and on, for day after day after day...that's perhaps because it did.
When Pup scored his hundred, found myself in the front bar of the Clovelly Hotel, ready to have a lash at the lunch menu with me ol' mate the Twisted Darkie as the Tasman Sea was over my shoulder a shimmering and a sparkling in the heat.
It was good of the bloke to work his way out of the nineties just in time so all could relax for a chow down as the sun was tempered by the sea breeze starting to kick in.
Never mind Punter on 97.
By the time he got to 200, noticed myself being gripped by a state of delirium somewhere in La La Land, but with the aid of some powerful pharmaceuticals had recovered enough by the time he made 250 to be enjoying a cheeky highball on the terrace of the Customs House Bar at Circular Quay, as if nothing had happened, with the dust and grime swirling about as a classic Sydney southerly buster swept through, like an exclamation mark on an extraordinary day.
A Fleet Foxes concert at the Opera Hoos in the company of the GLW proved to be a welcome distraction from the tumultuous events, and it all ended as a rather late night.
All of these places are within a few kilometres of the cricket ground, so kept kicking myself that of all days to be at the game, this was the one, the only one.
But.
Missed it.
Bad timing.
Pulled the wrong rein.
[Well aware that this is a Drunkard's Excuse, but there were more than a few disincentives to attend the ground; the intolerable temperature for a day in full sun in the "hot seats", the outrageous ticket prices, the exorbitant fee for the execrable light beer only and offal pies, Pup could have been out first ball on Day Two for all anyone knew, and the joint is crawling with fun police hell bent on ruining your day, et al, blah blah blah...]
If you had had a crystal ball and could have predicted how the day would pan out, you would have gladly paid the money and put up with the pain and suffering to see a slice of history in the making.
But not me.
Couldn't find mine - pretty sure there is a crystal ball somewhere down there in Dad's Shed - so it'll just go down as one of those, oh well, "much to my chagrin" days.
There've been a few.
On Day Three, awoke just in time to grogily switch on the digital radio as Pup and Mr Cricket began setting about grinding out some genuine test cricket, just nudging the ball here and there for one's and two's and incessantly running up and down, up and down, up and down between the wickets, with the Captain's eyes only occasionally lighting up at the sight of a bad ball - he duly smacked the rubbish to the boundary where it belongs - so, it seemed the only sensible place to be, on getting the act together, was in the Front Bar at The Local.
Walked in and straight away ran into The Philospher in a rare standing position as he breasted the bar to ask the barkeep for another dose of this week's favoured tipple - a Bacardi and soda with a twist of lemon - you'd have to agree, a refreshing drink on a warm summer's day.
Mainly a football fan [as you know, he takes a keen, but generally silent interest in the aussie rules and the rugby league], The Philospher shakes his head and gives a grudging nod of respect to cricket, largely due to its devilishly clever inexblicabilty and the inabilty of the players to hide their true humanity during six hours in the field - but he's certainly no ardent follower of the game.
He glanced at me sideways and put a bamboo umbrella in his glass and said "well, Craves, looks like your bloke has done alright", before resuming his seat in his usual corner.
The Usual Suspects and the Brown Bros were more boisterous than they would usually be just after one o'clock of a Thursday afternoon, and there was already clear evidence of the piss talking.
Needless to say, the Front Bar went ape shit when Pup scored 300, even the Asian punters in the TAB bar down there through the looking glass, were giving the lone telly with the cricket on it a standing ovation - as some random at the bar commented - at risk of having their citizenship revoked if they didn't.
Thinking it was more spontaneous than that.
By the look of the cables and telegraphs that came in soon after the event, it appears the vast majority of people in this metropolis who have not the slightest interest in the caper were still looking out of the corner of their eye at the outcome, fully aware that MJ Clarke was the talk of the town.
It was as if the whole city was cheering when it was all said and done, while having a collective oomph.
In a clear act of unanimity,The Maori boys purchased three jugs of draught with the small change out of their pockets, and perched them on the bar for anyone to have a drink out of.
It was a touching scene, that was deserving of high-fives.
When things settled down, and Pup continued to plough on, there was some discussion about the fact that he did it all with a nude bat.
Some wag said "I can see someone yelling down the phone in the bat maker's marketing department right now, screaming 'What were you thinking?! I don't care if he wants a head job at every drinks break. Just make it happen!!'".
Marketing blunder of the century.
Got to thinking that KD Walters has been out to lunch for his entire life, and still continues to this day to dine out, on the back of his 242 at the SCG.
Given the small matter of the 329 not out, Uncle Doug will now probably have to have a slight tinker with his well-worn endlessly-rehearsed after dinner patter.
Did like the hand painted banner that appeared at the ground on Day Three that simply read WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT?
Summed up the miracle perfectly.
As if the Skipper hadn't single-handedly won the match by a country mile, and then some, wasn't enough, the fact that MJ Clarke managed to deceive the Little Master on what turned out to be the last day of the match with one of his funny left-arm dibbly-dobblers and was entered in the scorebook at SR Tendulkar c.Hussey b.Clarke 80, was just fruit for the sideboard.
We'll be very lucky to see or hear of anything quite like it again in our lifetimes.

no laurels to rest on

2011-12-14T04:15:00.000-08:00

Critics,

Well, well, well.
What to make of MJ Clarke's third series as Captain?
Only thing that can be said for certain is that he remains undefeated, and even at 1-1 through the odd quirk of the last time they played them, still managed to retain the Trans-Tasman trophy.
After Brisbane, you could understand that the very long gap in tests played between Australia and New Zealand (1946-1973) was perhaps the right call.
After the Blicks first win on Strayan soil in 26 years in Hobart a week later, you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise.
Joisus.
Just what is going on?
Pup's big ton in Brisbane was as pretty as a picture.
He's undoubtedly the best cover driver in the game when he gets the sweet spot, and there's no better square cut around at present.
Game changer, as they say in the modern jargon.
He had every right to be filthy that he didn't get man-of-the-match.
What the??
So, isn't it strange that in match where the Skipper makes virtually no contribution at all with the blade, the Kiwi's come up and bite them on the arse, hard.
They should bear the fang marks for a while.
Not that 241 was ever going to be easy to get on that pitch at Bellerive, after making 136 in the first innings to find themselves 14 runs behind.
You'd only have to ask Clarkey what he thought about it after being bowled neck and crop while not offering a shot in the second innings for sfa.
It's just like Clarke, who constantly fidgets and fiddles with himself while he's at the crease, to be a touch hyper-active with his field changes, for mine, as he hops about in the slips, which certainly contributes to the appallingly tardy over rates.
Something else he could tidy up.
Very sad to see Ponting being a fool to himself and a burden on the community.
While he's still pretty sharp in the field, and doesn't quite yet need the old man's motorised buggy with a red flag on the back and a shopping basket out the front to run between the wickets, he seems to have lost his eye in his advancing years against honest seam bowling that's on the move, and the way he slowly shuffles across his crease, suggests that he's lost the fancy footwork as well, and that leaves him wide open to be trapped leg before, playing on, or being bowled through the gate.
Surely he must know in his heart of hearts that he should have taken the ultimate responsibilty, fallen on his sword, and retired gracefully with some dignity after the Ashes Debacle.
Why put enormous pressure on yourself and the new selectors by being a shadow of your former self?
Someone has to draw a line in the sand, and for the best accumulator of runs for Straya since Bradman, it should be him.
Thanks for all the fish Ricky, we'll see you down in the Legends Lounge at the Twilight Home.
Mr Cricket finds himself in the same predicament, at his age, with the eye and the timing all but gorn.
Time to get on the Jason Recliner and take it easy, Mike, ol' boy.
The selectors would also want to have a look at how many byes Hadds has conceded and the percentage of fumbled takes in recent games; he's looking like a slow moving bus behind the pegs of late with an erratic driver behind the wheel, notwithstanding his excellent stumping in Hobart - mind you, it was a carefully planned set play, and only the fourth of his test career.
Poor ol' PJ Hughes looks like being sent to the spelling paddock; the fact that he's been caught by the same fieldsman in the slips off the same bowler four times in a row would have to count against him, and he'd be rueing the fact that there's no first class cricket between now and Christmas, by dint of some stupidly clever work in Cricket Australia's Match Scheduling Department, who've decided to put on a Mickey Mouse two-day game and a three-day match, neither of which are first class, as the Indian tour matches, with most players tied up by good money to the Big Bash, which is yet to show if it can draw crowds, and hence gate receipts, or indeed, any interest at all.
The Token Muzzie is so full of promise and yet continues to disappoint by his apparent inablity to go on with it after making a start, but should probably be persisted with for the time being.
The Suburban Boy, who not so long ago once feared that he'd never play first class cricket, let alone test cricket, obviously looks the goods in the long form and is likely to be a big star in all three.
And he's a good, honest kid to boot - all power to his oars.
Happily, the fast bowling stocks appear to be fairly deep for a change, despite the number of young tear-aways who find themselves in Casualty Wards all over the country, and the Token South Australian [mind you, he was born in NSW] looks to be developing into a solid, efficient, if unspectactular, offie.
MJ Clarke, Mr RJ Inverarity and the faceless men have some work to do, before they can settle into the Christmas Pud with Brandy Sauce and double cream while sipping on a draft of fine tawny port.
Oh, yessiree.
Simply no laurels to rest on.

a mix of yoof and experience

2011-11-28T03:25:00.000-08:00

Spectators,

Trundled my vintage Toyota Camry [just re-registered at 21 years old] along Driver Ave on Sunday morning and parked right out the front of the Members Gate [jeez, don't the crowds flock in for the Shield? They were beating back the unruly mob trying to get in with rattan canes] at the advertised start time and wandered into the SCG without anyone noticing, only to find that they had been playing for an hour already, with NSW very well placed for the first innings lead.
What with the first two days being seriously affected by heavy rain and the way they are mucking about with the lunch and tea breaks in the Shield this year [they are now half an hour each, so lunch is now too short, and tea is too long. Progress, apparently. Can't see it, for mine. If it's not broke, why fix it?], no one really had any idea if or when any cricket would be played on the day.
As it turned out it was a picture postcard perfect day in the Emerald City; 25 degrees, a pleasant breeze and fluffy white clouds across the sky.
Me ol' mate Trev ambled in later with his tow lads in tow, and we got to talking why Katich wasn't picked in the current test team, just as we started to have a look at The Kat go about making a very good hundred, along with the 18 year old debutant Kurtis Patterson, batting at No.6 [who went onto to make 157 - the highest score by the youngest player on debut in Strayan first class cricket, no less] and put on a 200+ run partnership.
Brilliant, plain & simple.
From time to time we mumbled to each other, that back in day, a mix of yoof and experience was considered an essential requirement in any winning sports team.
We wondered why The Suburban Boy had been picked to open in the first test against the Blicks, when the Kat has opened for Straya more than once or twice, and has the small matter of 56 games under the baggy green to his credit.
And he can't get a game?
Just a sorry shame that his mouth and one man - who just now happens to be a selector - who he tried to strangle at one point, stands in his way.
The Mongoloid who was sitting a couple of rows across from us kept on calling out "Where's Michael?" "Where's Michael?" "Where's Michael?", until his minders told him to shut up.
Don't quite know what he was implying, but if it was that the Australian Captain should've been playing, or at the very least, standing around in the Members Bar with his Selectors Hat on having a very good look at proceedings, then he was spot on.
MJ Clarke was in town, after all, but nowhere to be seen at the ground.
Not that we don't like Warner.
Oh No Siree.
Just a few weeks a ago we'd both been at Bankstown to see Justa put on plenty, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with the way he clean clubs the ball with that great thumping tree stump that he's got for a bat [Lance Cairns' old baseball bat has nothing on it]; the thing is, he's fine bat, but still really untried in the first class game, so to ditch him into test cricket might end up being to no one's advantage, particularly as he's just filling in for the perpetually injured FIGJAM.
All things being equal, Katich should be playing in Brisvegas, but he isn't, and that's that - another of the many iniquities to be found in the summer game.
The Kat wasn't in much of a hurry to do anything starting the day, as he knew he had all day to shuffle about on the crease.
Against a dead-set pop-gun WA attack [they used seven bowlers on the day] with nothing much more penetrating than some sharpish medium pace from a bloke called Rimmington, Simon Says was happy enough with his immaculate forward defence and to rock back and forth on the back foot and just patiently wait to smack the rubbish.
And smack it he did, smacked it good.
At one point he clocked the perfect pull shot; by the time the sound of the ball cracking off the bat reached you in the MA Noble Stand, the ball was already at the boundary and the sound of it clattering into the fence hoardings followed soon after.
The Patterson Kiddie, in contrast, was keen to get on with it.
He was nervy and edgy to start, as could be expected, putting a couple over the heads of the slips that better batsmen would have hit at head high and been caught, but soon settled in.
A tallish upright left hander with a compact stance, he's clearly in love with the cover drive, and why wouldn't you be when you can play it that well?
Some good boundaries via that stroke, but he's a bit airy fairy in his leg side play that could see him caught out there on any other day with a few too many balls played in the air.
Also pushed plenty of balls to point for singles and some two's and three's backward of point.
Looked like a pro.
Obviously, you don't make a very good hundred on debut if you can't play.
Kurtis' Mum and Dad were in the ground forming the nucleus of the cheer squad, along with his two younger sisters who were flitting around with cameras, and by the time he's notched up his half century and word had got out on the street, another fifty people had joined them, all loudly boostering the kid when he made a good shot.
Lovely.
All in all, a good day out.
Seems like they've refurbished the beer taps in Monte's Bar to pour a half-way decent, and cold, Carlton Draught as we thank the Good Lord Joisus that the execrable, warm, Toohey's New has finally been relegated to the sluice bucket where it belongs.
A welcome development, even if they are still slugging you six-fitty for a schooner.
The offal pies were the same as they've ever been down the years; allegedly delicious served piping hot out of the thermo-nuclear pie warmer with all the sauces.
As we nibbled around the burning edges, we also pondered the poor fate of Trent "The Muso" Copeland, who of course, was never called upon to do anything all day.
We both saw him on debut at the ground a year or two back, and he's done nothing wrong since.
He's already got a baggy green, so you don't have to mint a new one, having played in all the recent test matches in Ceylon, and yet he can't get a place in the first test side to play the Kiwi Kuzzins, even with so many injuries in the bowling ranks.
What the?
He must be scratching his head and wondering what he has to do and if he's now a prime candidate to become a three test wonder, and put his cap in a glass case.
Beyond belief.
It's a funny game.

47 all out and all that

2011-11-22T19:26:00.001-08:00

Critics,

The most contrary test series in recent memory.
The only certainty about the whole saga is that MJ Clarke got out of it undefeated as Captain in test series', but only by more than a few strokes of luck and twists of fate.
Take Cape Town as a case in point.
Perhaps Pup's finest test century to date [although his debut ton was pretty good by any account].
Leading from the front in a difficult situation, played all the shots; some of the best leg side play and straight hitting seen in the shadows of Table Mountain in quite a while, not to mention the pretty cover driving.
22 balls rolled away to the boundary in a quick smart innings of 151 with his ton coming off not too many more than a hundred balls.
Seeing it like a watermelon as time went on.
Then of course it all came to nought, when they got the Seth Efreakens on the back foot with a dead-set pop gun attack and came to within an inch or two of being able to enforce the follow on, and then found themsleves all out for 47 in the second innings, and were then thrashed piteously by plenty in the dénoument.
More than enough has been said about it, but no one can say for sure exactly how it came about.
"Inexplicable" is probably the best word to describe it, given that no one has been able to come up with a plausable explanation for it -- just like a UFO sighting.
Pup is probably still tossing and turning in his sleep wondering if any lesson can be learnt from it.
It was certainly enough to do Roebuck's head in.
Joisus.
[Got down from the bookcase the hefty tome of Wisden test scoreboards from the year dot up to 1977-78 to look up the the previous lowest total of 36. The Strayans found themselves in England in the notoriously wet summer of 1902, and were caught on a sticky wicket at Edgbaston - so at least they had something to blame - Trumper top scored with 18, and they still managed to get away with a draw in a three-day match ruined by rain].
Move the binoculars to Joburgh, and Pup makes absolutely no contribution with the bat, his field placings in the Kaffir Kickers' 2nd innings are heavily criticised in some quarters, and yet he still manages to get away with one of the most improbable victories seen on the veldt, all on the back of the The Childe Cummins.
An unbelievable fairtytale on debut.
Mind you, it puts eternal pressure on the kiddie, as he will no doubt level out in coming campaigns, and people will inevitably say "oh well, not as good as he was on debut".
And, a mere slip of a lad from the foot of the mountains, at 18 years of age or some such, he now faces the prospect of trying to play in six test matches before Australia Day.
Good luck to the lad.
Just a shame to see the old guard hoisted by their own petards for playing on too long.
Punter, of course, should have retired immediately after the Ashes debacle, Joke Johnno the same - always had a feeble cricket brain but to see him disintergrate utterly and completely to a shell of his former over-rated self is an awful thing to watch - Sidds was probably never a test class bowler for mine, and was very lucky to get the baggy in the first place let alone the number of games he got, while Hadds should have had the good sense to hang up the gloves stuffed with porterhouse steaks a while ago now.
Pleasing to see Clarkey stake his claim in the power play and insist that he be a selector in the new scheme of things.
Of all people, he should know his men.
It's always struck me as an anomaly that, in the past few decades at least, the Captain in Strayan cricket has never been a selector.
The new regime will certainly have their work cut out, but surely they can do no worse than that bunch of clowns, who at long last, have been forcibly pushed out the back door along with all their worthless baggage.

the man and his dog

2011-11-07T05:01:00.000-08:00

Canine Fanciers,

Wandered into the picturesque Bankstown Memorial Oval with me ol' mate Trev on Sunday morning without being noticed by anyone, to watch the the first spot of first class cricket for the season.
A delightful ground that is almost a perfect circle with a picket fence all the way around and then ringed, as it is, by oaks, lilli pilli's and Port Jackson figs along with four spectactular Jacaranda trees in full bloom, and a scraggy looking pine tree near the front gate that was germinated and planted from a seed that some digger brought back from Lone Pine in 1915.
If nothing else, a very nice shady place on a hot day, and a good viewing ground.
Not too big - you can hear what is being discussed out loud among the players on the ground - and some excellent sight lines from the bleachers.
After lunch, without warning, the weather suddenly turned ominous with dark clouds building out the west behind the scoreboard.
In the end, it never amounted to much more than a thundery shower, but they were off for an hour and a half.
Kids played tennis ball cricket in front of the small grandstand, while the old blokes shuffled around drinking beer and having a chat.
During the rain delay a few people we hadn't seen before wandered into the ground, followed by a small dog trotting along behind.
Said to me mate "have a look at that, Trev, the man and his dog have just arrived in the ground!"
He was a white short-haired terrier type with brown blotches who also had some Daschund in him so had a bit of an elongated body and stood on short stumpy legs, with a furiously wagging tail.
The dog siffed about a bit and went on his merry way as no one took any notice of him.
As the half a dozen council groundstaff were lazily taking off the covers, affecting a look of not being in too much of a hurry, and then banging the stumps back in, the Umpires went out for a pitch inspection.
The Bamfords left the gate open, and the dog followed them out onto the ground, trotting dutifully behind the two blokes in white lab coats and fedora's.
The dog went for a bit of a perambulate around the field of play before Trev said "hey, look at this Craves, that dog is dead set going to piss on the stumps".
As he approached the three sticks with intent, some groundsman who was out there supervising the removal of the covers gently shooed him away, before another groundsman who was near the boundary called out to the errant canine, sat on his haunches, and then beckoned the dog to come over to him, which the hound duly did.
When he arrived at the groundsman, the dog flipped onto its back look for a tummy rub.
The groundsman gave him one and picked him up and put him under his arm, gave him a pat on the head, and carried him off the ground.
We didn't see the little woofer after that.
He looked like a local, but we couldn't find out his name.
The dog probably snouted around in the bins out the back of the canteen, feasting on some tasy leftovers, before going home.
The canteen had a small blackboard at the window listing the bill of fare in blue & white chalk.
It read, in order:
"pies, sausage rolls, beer, assorted bread rolls, also, chips, drinks, icecreams".
The third in the list of priorities happened to be three types of beer in very cold stubbies; Carlton Draught, Carlton Cold, and VB, all at $4 a pop.
The canteen [marvellously run by the ladies from the Bankstown District Cricket Club) didn't mention that they sold the cheapest beer of any cricket ground in the known world, no need to; there was always going to be a run on supplies at that price even with no more than 500 spectators in the ground.
When they ran out of the Draught at tea, the delivery van from the Bankstown Sports Club simply rolled up with more.
There was some first class cricket that went on as well.
Watched the Bluebags openers put on 233 for the first wicket against a Rednecks attack that contained a one-test wonder in PR George [who bowled a lot of half-way handy overs] along with the medium pacers Mennie and Christian operating on a largely flat, truly-paced, unresponsive pitch and the leg spinner CB Bailey, who didn't do much on the day except try to tie up an end, unsuccessfully.
The Maddinson Kiddie impressed; a tall straight backed bloke who plays mainly off the back foot and drives well and straight -- virtually all his boundaries were straight or square of the wicket.
Hasn't got many shots and virtually no leg side play, but that'll come with age and experience for a 19 year old from Nowra who finds himself opening for NSW for a second season.
As one wag in the crowd called out "you should be doing an apprenticeship, Nic".
Maddo might be wise to put his hooks and pull shots away until he perfects them in the nets because they were risky and not very successful.
Still, a very well made innings from one of the best of the yoof of today.
He was kicking himself when he got out to a very lazy shot for 92.
He could be something;n but at first glance you'd doubt he'd play test cricket, but might enjoy a ten year career as a first class opener.
But you never know at his age.
He reminds me a bit of Greg "Snail" Mail, who made a poultice of runs for NSW in the 00's without ever threatening to do anything spectacular.
As opposed to Dave "I'm Just A Suburban Boy" Warner.
After being in mortal fear of being pigeon holed as a T20 or 50/50 specialst pinch hitter, he's matured into an opener who, for mine, is likely to go places in all three forms of the game.
Paced the innings perfectly; blazing start, consolidation in the middle with the weather looming, and then flaying the bowling something fearsome towards the end.
Warner has got all the shots, and tremendous power through the stroke of the ball, which can ping to the boundary with that unmistakable crack of a good shot - but seemingly without effort - with that huge club of a thing that he uses to clout the nut.
The Suburban Boy decided to bring up his hundred by launching a huge on-drive that made virtually no sound at all as it hit the sweet spot.
We both saw it off the bat; it sailed over mid-on and was still on the up as it cleared the boundary rope, and then hit the very top of the huge jacaranda tree next to the groundsman's shed under which the tractor was parked, tumbled down the branches and into the massive open stormwater drain out the back of the ground.
The groundsmen rushed out of their shed and went to have a look just in time to see the ball roll down the drain to the Georges River, and waved their arms to the Umpires to indicate the thing was long gone.
Lost ball.
DA Warner 100 no [went on to make 148], standing ovation, then everyone in the ground rested on their laurels, had another drink, another chat, while a bloke in a tie and shirtsleeves conveyed a large wooden box of balls onto the ground.

NSW V SA.
Toss: NSW.
Stumps Day One:
New South Wales 1st innings 283/3 (SM Katich 13*, SPD Smith 19*, 77 ov).

appears to know what he is doing

2011-09-22T06:28:00.001-07:00

Followers of fashion,

So, what to make of MJ Clarke's first test series as Captain of his country?
1-0 speaks for itself, of course, but all reports coming in on the bush telegraph from Ol' Ceylon suggest he deported himself most satisfactorily both on and off the field.
Skippered a comprehensive win in the first test on a featherbed that turned into a Death Valley dust bowl, found himself a rain victim in the second test through no fault of his own while well placed, and played out a sensible draw to secure the series win in the third test, while scoring a century himself on the last day of the last match to put the issue beyond doubt.
Pulled off a couple of strokes to genius, most notably putting on that formidable strike weapon MEK Hussey to bowl, and pick up the crucial wicket of Sangers on the opening day of the second test.
Huss said "he couldn't believe" that he'd been asked to warm up the bowling arm, but afterwards described Pup as "the thinking man's Captain".
The poo-bah's down at the Sinhalese Sports Club in Colombo suggest Clarke followed all the local customs to the letter, was very gracious towards his hosts, got on well enough with officialdom, and commanded the confidence of his men.
They say he appears to know what he is doing.
All in all, a debut that can't be faulted, and above all resisted singing his own praises.
Respect.

only had themselves to blame

2011-09-20T17:19:00.000-07:00

Flabbergastees,

Devastated, crushed, shattered, heart broken are all good words in the circumstances, but none adequately sums up the bitter, bitter disappointment felt by thousands upon thousands of fans world wide at such an ignominious finish to the season.
SC Sheens was "too distressed" to attend the post match press conference.
If the coach was speechless, so was everyone else.
For a bloke who won the '05 Grand Final and knows what it's all about, Marshall described the result as "the worst loss of my life".
We are right there with you on that one, Benji.
And it's never nice to be done in by a stroke of extraordinarily appalling bad luck.
Not that they weren't without blame, oh no, sir.
Just in a game when they didn't need it, a poor performance in defence resulted in the leaking of soft tries; all but the last Worriers try can only be described in classical terms as "soft".
It was clear to me that a touch of arrogance afflicted them at 18-6, along the lines of "we've got you beat here, all we need to do is put the fruit on the sideboard, without having to work very hard".
More often than not that's a fatal attitude.
Two failed field goal attempts just before half time were a good idea [ie it's easier to get them early than late, in theory], but they worried me.
For mine, it planted the psychological seed in the opponents mind that the Tigers were intent on putting the game to sleep with a good lead, when it was patently obvious that more than one point was needed on the scoreboard.
It was like trying to take out an insurance policy, only to find the bastards refused to pay out in the end.
It aint over until the Fat Lady sings when the Bamford blows the whistle after 80 minutes, no more no less.
At half-time the bush telegraph in the corner of the loungeroom chattered into life with a message from Mary MacKillop.
Pulled the tape off the machine and saw that it read "New Zealand needs a miracle".
And so it came to pass.
The, by now, old ploy of grinding the opposition into the dust and waiting for them to tire and the gaps to open up just didn't work here - it never happened; this mob of Brown Brothers are some tough nuts, to be sure.
The Worriers just kept on taking it up time and time again and managed to keep the scoreboard ticking over.
With two minutes left in the match came the bad luck to end all bad lucks.
Desperately trying to hold out the opposition within a couple of metres of the try line, Inu took the ball at fair pace and looked like he had crashed over, but he knew he was inches short and had never lost control of the ball and wasn't effectively tackled even though he was fully stretched out on the ground.
Inu accepted the invitation and scored with a legitimate double movement, as he was perfectly entightled to do, putting the ball on the chalk to win the match.
Joisus.
Moltzen was clearly to blame; he thought he had made the tackle, but he only played at the ball without stopping the man, never mind that the defence was in disarray and he really had no one onside to help him
Lord help me.
The Bamfords had a poor game - the winning coach complained about them, for chrissake! - but the TV umpire got it quite right in this case.
To think that a season that promised so much could be snuffed out in an instant by a matter of centimetres.
Sat stunned on the lounge thinking how on earth this could happen; to mix a metaphor, you wouldn't read about it in your wildest dreams.
The Good Lady Wife appeared to be distraught.
After she recovered from her eyes glazing over with the aid of a large draft of dry red, she asked me straight out, with a heavy sigh, whether the whole season had been a worthwhile excercise, with a suggestion in her voice that the time, money, emotion invested in it might not have been.
It really wasn't a good time to ask the question, but tried to be positive and put on a brave face, and mumbled something along the lines of "well, you know what they say, it's all about the journey, not the destination".
She pulled me up there.
"No it's not!", she cried, "That's bullshit! And you know it. I'm really upset by all of this, to go out like that in the semi-finals. It's f*ckin' f*cked."
Who's to argue?
We agreed that four games at Leichhardt Oval was well worth doing, that the late season purple patch was a thing to behold, after they hovered in the bottom of the eight half way the season and for a while there looked for all the world that they might not make the grade.
But, of course, it was naive to think that the patch could go on forever.
Losers of course can please themselves, and there is the temptation to fill the off season with questions of "what if", but SC Sheens will make it his business to put a stop to that forthwith.
Walked past the Front Bar at The Local on Saturday morning pretending to be on my way to the shops; just eased the door ajar and peeped in surreptitiously.
It was no good, the Brown Brothers spotted me and burst into uproarious laughter, before one big boofhead came over to the door and opened it wide saying "sorry bro, bad luck, eh bro? don't worry, bro. come in, mate, its alright"
They poured me a schooner out of the jug and passed on their condolences while extolling the virtues of the Kiwi victory and their chances of going further.
Didn't last long in that company, finding it rather distasteful.
On leaving the bar, found The Philsopher alone, slumped in his usual corner, nursing a large brandy balloon.
He looked catatonic, as he compulsively shook his and muttered to himself over and over again "they only had themselves to blame."

WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Farah, Galloway, Marshall. Goals: Marshall (4).
NEW ZEALAND WARRIORS 22. Tries: Hohaia, Inu, Maloney, Mateo. Goals: Maloney (3).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 27,109.

The failure to kick a single goal in the first quarter of a semi-final well and truly put the writing on the wall.
Mr Ed was seen in the coaching box scratching his head and his chin simultaneously, while his legion of assistants frantically scrabbled through the sheaves of gin-soaked game plans, desperately looking for Plan B.
By the time they found it, the match was long gorn.
Going into quarter time with but a single solitary behind on the scoreboard was screaming "no coming back from this".
And so it came to pass.
Sydney found themsleves 28 points down before they put one through the big sticks, and catch up football is never going to work in big games.
All the more puzzling as Mummy dominated the hit outs early.
John F Kennedy didn't have a bad game; Rhino Keefe, Rick Shaw and Odd Head McVeigh battled away manfully, while the Goodes Train kicked a few beautiful goals; as for the rest, they were just spectators as the Hawks ran rings around them.
As predicted last week, class will always win out in the end at the pointy end of the season.
It didn't help that they once again ran into the Lance Franklin Show; never mind that Buddy was playing on one leg.
Given that the rugby league and the rules games were played simultaenously, really only saw the second half, which was a good thing in the final paralysis, as it was an entirely unsatisfactory thing to watch.
The flock of seagulls at the MCG might as well have umpired the game; there were so many of them, and they were real pests.
They might have to ban chips at the ground for the rest of the finals, or if the punters won't cop that, the authorities should just spray the arena with 12-gauge shot guns as part of the pre-game entertainment.
Dead and dying shot birds have always been a spectacle, just ask the duck shooters, so why not?
And since when have seagulls been a problem at night?
Do they not rest?
A very disappointing, if predictable, end to the season.
What made it worse was the Swans weren't even that gallant in defeat, going out with a whimper.

HAWTHORN: 3.5, 10.5, 12.6, 19.8 (122). Goals: Franklin 4, P Puopolo 3, Bateman 2, Hale 2, Rioli, Lewis, Hodge, Shiels, Bailey, Osborne, Suckling, Burgoyne.
SYDNEY: 0.1, 4.1, 9.6, 13.8 (86). Goals: Goodes 3, O'Keefe 3, Bird, Rohan, McVeigh, Spangher, Mumford, Reid Kennelly.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 55,198.

The Tigers have jettisoned the dead wood and have already bought well, securing the services of Adam "Stink" Blair and paying him a minor fortune to lock the pack next year, they have a marquee hooker and five eighth on long term contracts, the centres are fine and they have enough wingers, but they could really use another highly experienced half-back and full-back.
No doubt that will be seen to.
Otherwise, right as rain.
The Swans are developing their young talent well, but still need to pick intelligently in The Draft, not much required to add to the mid-field, but they must get busy in Trade Week for some genuine tall forwards and some more starch in the backs with the retirement of The Great Kennelly et al, while The Train should be encouraged to play on for just one more year, before he runs out of puff and is confined to a wheelchair.
Bob's your uncle.
As they say in the classics, there's always next year.
And so endeth the Winter Game wire, rather too abruptly for mine, for another season.
It's been fun.
If you could be bothered, thanks for reading.
Appreciated all the insightful [or otherwise] comments, corrections, suggestions, light-hearted banter, downright abuse, and drunken ramblings.
Now, bring on Mad Monday, Cup Week, and some first class cricket.

a game of two halves

2011-09-15T04:48:00.000-07:00

Fanatical loyalists,
The seamlessness of the free major event bus network to the Olympic Stadium from all over town is one of very few valuable legacies of the 2000 Games.
Slightly worried that most of the people on board were St George supporters, but needn't have.
The match drew more than a few weirdo's out of the woodwork, like the bloke in the wheelchair who was dressed in a bright orange three peice suit.
On account of his apparent handicap, he got priority service at the bar, even though he was yelling alot and wasn't driving his conveyance all that well.
In truth, he was as pissed as a parrot.
Then there were the blokes with the full Sumatran tiger costume on top, teamed with Fijian men's skirts and bare feet down below.
Some people had obviously gone to the legion of face painters who were about and said "Black me up! Make me look like Benji!".
Almost did myself.
Or the two South Sea Islander women who were sitting behind us and spent the entire second half in a completely hysterical state, with attendant screeching and wailing like a pair of banshees.
What it is that compels people at big sporting events to dress and behave in a manner that they wouldn't even remotely contemplate otherwise remains a matter of deep mystery.
Slid easily into the cheap seats in the north eastern corner, surrounded by like minded Balmain and Wests supporters.
Even though we were just 27 rows back from the fence, you are a long way from the action in such a massive stadium, and the sight lines for rugby league are just terrible
At least they have a BIG screen.
Found myself coming down the steps to the concourse early in the first half holding two glasses of red wine aloft [why buy an execrable mid-strength beer at $6.50, when you can get a well filled tumbler of a cheeky Tyrells shiraz at $7?
A no brainer], when The Great Benji scores a freak try from nothing, an air swing of a kick that misses the boot and comes off his knee, the ball bounces off a hapless Dragon, and Marshall [albeit with a hint of a knock on] re-gathers and strolls away to score under the posts.
The Tigers section of the crowd went apeshit.
Tigers fans out numbered Saints fans by a margin of at least two to one, and made some tremendous noise with it, but there was precious little to cheer about for the rest of the first 40.
In fact...absolutely nothing, as Balmain lost their mojo and never looked like scoring again.
What the?
Turned to the Good Lady Wife on the half time hooter and said "well, that was the worst first half of football they've played in months".
SC Sheens on interview after the game said "that was the worst first half of football they've played all season. I was very surprised we weren't down 20-nil at half time".
Out in the bars and smoking lounges at the break there were some worried looks and downcast faces.
The general consensus of opinion was that Balmain's only hope was they might outlast the Dragons in terms of overall match fitness and run over the top of them.
And so it came to pass.
SC Sheens must have put a rocket with suitably appropriate high explosives attached to it right up the Tigers' collective runter in a merciless spray at half time.
There can be no other explanation for it.
Early in the second half, the Tigers spilt a nothing ball in the St George half, and SC Sheens - who was coaching from the sideline - in a rare display of emotion, stabbed his umbrella into the turf and said for anyone within earshot who cared to listen "f*ck, f*ck, F*CK".
With half an hour left in the match, the Saints did suddenly tire badly, and the gaps started to open up, ripe for explotation by the Balmain forwards, before the backs finished off the job.
Moltzen from way out back was easily Man of The Match, playing against the club he is going to next year, by inserting himself in the attacking movement at critical moments to create the extra man in second phase play when the ball is out there on the end of a string.
The points were always going to come, and Benji, thankfully, had his kicking boots on, particularly the two penalty goals, that proved invaluable, but the result was always in doubt right up to Benji working himself into a field goal position at the denoument, after his pack had put in the hard work to get him there, and he simply potted the one-pointer over the black dot from about 20 yards out.
A text book example of how to win coming from behind, not to mention that the purple patch has now extended to nine wins in a row with sudden death football upon us.
When the final whistle blew, turned to the GLW and said "that was the best second half of football they've played in months".
SC Sheens on interview after the game said "that was the best second half of football they've played all season."
The proverbial game of two halves, if ever there was one.
There were wild scenes at full time as utter pandemonian broke out.
Grown men were carrying on like pork chops, children were screaming and flipping all about, while women were weeping, some with joy, others with despair.
Heard some raucous singing coming from the dunny block on the way out, and on investigation, found scores of blokes heartily singing "Oh when the Saints! Oh when the Saints! Oh when the Saints go marching OUT!"
Etc.
[Even though, under the McIntyre system, St George did eventually survive and go through to the second week despite the loss].
In the huge throng outside the stadium we ran into a bloke who was running around in ever decreasing demented circles like he was afflicted with St Vitus dance displaying a large banner which simply read "SOWARD SUCKS".
The GLW stopped him and asked "where did you get that, mate?"
"I made it meself!!", he replied with pride.
Obviously in rapture.
The event bus on the way home was an ebullient affair.
Tigers fans are everywhere.
On our travels, we've run into people wearing Balmain gear in Vietnam, Laos, Bangkok and right out in the backblocks of north-eastern Thailand.
On Monday morning dropped into the Enfield Produce Store to pick up 20kg of chook feed.
The bloke out the back in there knows me.
He's a Tigers fan.
As we were loading the gear into the boot of my car he gave me a dissertation:
"Whaddya reckon mate? Mighty Tiges to win the Grand Final? The Worriers don't have any frighteners for us, do they? I reckon it's the same with Melbourne. The Storm are vunerable on their right edge, for mine. Tuqiri and Lawrence will find a way through there, easy. Much prefer to play Manly in the decider; Brisbane scare me, they are the definite dark horses - young, big, fit, strong, and they are doing it for an inspirational captain. Let's just hope St George do us another favour and knock out the Bronco's for us this week, and we wouldn't mind playing the Dragons again in the Grand Final, would we?".
Just nodded my head in agreement and said "fair enough", aknowledging he'd succinctly summed up the road to lifting the Cup to perfection.
Here is a man speaking wisdom.
Later in the morning, wearing a Tigers cap, ventured into the bottle shop down on the Canterbury Road to pick up a unit of hospital grade brandy to settle the nerves.
They know me in there and there was a bit of lighthearted banter about football, given that there is a St George supporter on staff.
In walks a woman, a very neatly dressed wine rep coming in to check if they needed any stock to stock up on the stock.
She looks at me and says "That's a mighty fine hat you have on there, Sir".
"I know".
She says "Waddya reckon, Tiges to win the Grand Final?"
"Dunno. But I really hope so".
Instinctively reached into my pocket and fished out the Tigers keyring on the car keys to show her.
"What did you think of Friday night's game?", she said.
"I was there."
"So was I!! I am living proof that it is possible to get a bit pissed on mid-strength beer".
She then reached into her purse and got out her Tigers Gold Membership card to show me, which meant she'd had a ticket to every home game.
Took my bottle of St Agnes, and we exchanged broad smiles and thumbs up, before going on our merry way.
On Saturday morning, surreptitiously eased my way into the Front Bar at the Local, as is my wont, just to survey the scene, and see who is betting on what, and so forth.
The Philosopher was still in bed, but there is one local Brown Brother who has eschewed his national team, in fact, he can't stand the Worriers, which has been known to cause trouble with his kin folk.
Fisticuffs are not unknown in the Front Bar.
He's a long term rabid Tiger's fan.
Wasn't in the bar for more than a few minutes, when in he bursts, dressed from head to toe in Tigers merch, with a huge idiot grin on his face.
After a round of high fives he breasts the bar, orders jugs all round to shout the bar, and says to the barmaid: "Whaddaya ya reckon, Amy? Tiges to win the Grand Final?"
The long suffering barmaid rolled her eyes and said "Joisus Christ. I bloody well hope so, if it makes you happy".
Enough said.

WESTS TIGERS 21. Tries: Heighington, Marshall, Ryan. Goals: Marshall (5). Field Goals: Marshall (1).
ST GEORGE ILLAWARRA DRAGONS 12. Tries: Nightingale, Rein. Goals: Soward (2).
Crowd: 45,631.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.

"Ye of little faith" has been a phrase bandied about mid week in reference to me prematurely writing off the Swans after the Richmond debacle at the MCG.
Reminded, that according to this wire, the Swans were prime candidates for being 'eaten alive for breakfast' in the first week of the finals.
Wrong, probably for the first time since '89.
Barked up the incorrect tree, obviously.
It turns out Mr Ed knows about finals football and brought what he knows to the match.
A game of four quarters where Sydney were in peril of losing on a number of occasions, and lets face it, it's not often that a team gets comprehensively beaten in the Championship Quarter and still goes on to win the match.
Hardly ever happens in finals.
But it in other ways it was a typical final; hard-fought, ground-out, determined, gritty are some words that come to mind.
Pity they don't do Brownlow points for the finals, as The Train would have undoubtedly picked up a few.
Rhino was at his best as the Swans won it in the mid-field, and were harder all round, especially with the ball on the ground.
Loved The Great Irishman when he was penalised by that turd Ray "Artform" Chamberlain, who was on the other side of the field, for some non-existent infringment.
The idiot Bamford ran in from 50 yards away to give Tadgh a lecture on what he had done wrong, but Kenneley in the twilight of his career, had clearly had enough of this one.
Couldn't care less if he was suspended, as he's about to retire.
He just eyeballed Chamberlain from close range and gave him a right gobful about how he had read the rule book lately, when {guessing this is how it went} "you, you mong there with the whistle, yes that's right, that's you Ray, when was the last time you read the freaking rule book, you clown?", and then went on to give him free advice about the future of his career, and complained long and loud that to give a free kick against him was an outrage, that under the outrageous circumstances, wouldn't be tolerated by most people.
Artform just stood there gobsmacked that a player had told him in no uncertain terms to shut the f*ck up and listen to the bloke who was calling him a loudmouthed fool, in a pleasant Irish brogue.
Without doubt the best exchange of words between player and officialdom all year.
Brilliant.
The cards may just fall the Swans way again this week, as the Hawks are looking more and more like shot birds.
But if they jump that hurdle it'll be the Pies in the Grand Final qualifier.
Still, the equation is simple enough, if Sydney want to win the flag, then they are going to have to beat the top two teams.
A tall order, but stranger things have happened.

ST KILDA 1.3, 3.4, 7.7, 8.9 (57). Goals: Schneider 2, Goddard 2, Koschitzke, Dal Santo, Riewoldt, Milne.
SYDNEY 2.4, 7.6, 8.9, 12.10 (82). Goals: O'Keefe 4, Goodes 2, McGlynn 2, Mumford 2, Spangher, Reid.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 39,205

class will win out in the end

2011-09-06T22:39:00.000-07:00

Futurists,

A nine goal football lesson [albiet handed out to a team that knew its season was over a long time ago and ended up finishing third last by a slim margin] is as good as any way to finish a season.
The hapless Bears were brained by half time, with the Swans eight goal second quarter probably their best all season.
Competant against a rabble of a side
That turd Ray "Artform" Chamberlain actually had a reasonable game with the whistle for a complete change, but crikey, doesn't he yabber, yabber, yabber on incessantly?
The players must be sorely tempted to say "for Chrissake, Ray, won't you just SHUT THE FUCK UP!?".
The Stats Guru pointed out the surprising fact that The Hanneberry Kiddie was playing in his 50th game in the seniors.
Fancy that.
It seems like only yesterday that he was drafted and made his debut.
Given that he never gets injured, he's a 300 gamer if he puts is mind to it.
The Goodes Train no doubt added to his tally of Brownlow votes once again [and firmed into the second line of betting to pick up his third Chas], and will line up in the finals in ripe form, even if he has lost a yard of pace.
So it comes down to St Kilda - didn't the Swans play them just a few weeks ago and got away with the win?
They could get lucky again in week one of September, and make week two, but in the final paralysis, surely, sheer class will win out in the end?
Its a good thing that they didn't get a home final, as the crowd could have been an embarrassment, given that the latte drinkers don't appear to be interested, not to mention the prices the AFL charges for finals tickets.
They've played at Docklands three times this year for a 1-2 result, so the ground doesn't hold any particular demons for them, unlike the damnable MCG.
But really, something must be done about the iniquitous AFL fixture list, as the prestige Melbourne clubs [think Collingwood, Carlton, St Kilda] hardly ever have to play outside Melbourne, whereas the Swans were asked to travel to Perth, Adelaide, Brisbane, Gold Coast and Canberra this year.
Something must be done, but the old money boys behind the closed doors down at the Melbourne Club will see to it that that never happens.
Mr Ed has done well to bring this mob this far and make the finals in his first year as senior coach in 7th.
Especially as he's been standing in the long shadow of SC Roos, he had to tinker week in week out with almost everything except the mid-field, and the fact that the team scored more behinds during the season than they did goals [267.295!].
It'll be interesting to see how he approaches it, and gets on from here, as he'll find that September is a different kettle of fish altogther.

SYDNEY 3.3, 11.7, 14.9, 18.11 (119). Goals: Goodes 4, Bolton 4, Rohan 3, Spangher 3, Parker 2, Hannebery, Malceski.
BRISBANE 4.3, 6.6, 9.9, 9.13 (67). Goals: McGrath 3, Karnezis 2, Cornelius, Rich, Hawksley, Redden.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 27,721.

Balmain are masters of strangling a game to death when they find themselves with a match winning lead deep into the second half.
They snap the lid shut on all that expansive flambouyant attacking play and just sit on the football; they set up and maintain neutral field position and defend it grimly, so there is just no possibility of the opposition getting into a points scoring position.
Wily coaching, as ever.
Tigers went down to the The Shire and did just enough to win, in the knowledge victory by any margin was all that was required to clinch 4th spot on the final ladder.
The Best Leb in the Game had a freak match; its not everyday the hooker scores three tries from the front row.
No one doubts his skill at dummy half, but that was something else.
[In another omen flashback to the Miracle Year '05, that was the last time Farah also scored three tries in a match].
And it was book-ended with a nice try from Moltzen from out the very back.
The argument about whether to play the Tigers "home" final at the Sydney Football Stadium or the Olympic Standium didn't last long.
Balmain had every right to put their foot down and insist on it being played at the SFS, but the bean counters down in the bunker at NRL HQ reckoned with two very well supported Sydney clubs playing each other they could bank on pulling a crowd of 50K+, which is about 10K more than the SFS can hold.
Money talks, so its off to Homebush we go.
Never mind that among the Tigers three home grounds, the Olympic Stadium is not one of them, and they've only played there twice this year in away games and lost both of them, or that its now being touted as some silly thing called a "Sydney region home final".
So much for that elusive thing called "home ground advantage".
SC Sheens is certainly cranky about the decision not to play at the SFS, saying he feels the team has been "shafted", adding "we had better draw 50,000, if we don't, then I will certainly have something to say".
The downside is that the Western Paddock is by no means as good as the SFS in terms of spectator viewing or playing surface, but the upside is that with the added capacity, the tickets are dirt cheap.
Snaffled myself two tickets to the reserved cheap seats right on the north eastern corner post in the Club Members pre-sale for just $20 each.
For a final?!
That's cheaper than a walk up general admission ticket to the home and away matches.
They are working on the theory that they might as well fill up the ground and trouser the not inconsiderable gate takings, rather than charge exorbitant prices like the AFL does and find that nobody turns up.
No doubt the Club Secretary would have told the coach "Sorry Tim, but money talks".
So it comes down to St George - didn't the Tigers play them just a few weeks ago and came up with 14-12 win?
No reason why they can't do it again with a more or less fully fit roster; the Try Scoring Freak returns from injury along with Be My Beau Ryan, a forward pack on fire, the backs playing out of their minds and a hundred set plays committed to memory.
Under the vagaries of the McIntyre system, a saloon passage through to the Grand Final qualifier is highly unlikely with a win, but a loss would most likely still be enough to get through to week two.
The Great Benji Marshall, after being robbed of the Dally Messenger Medal [rugby league's equivalent of the Chas Brownlow], with his typical modesty, said he is playing the best he ever has in his career, but adds there's room to lift even further in the pressure cooker that is September.
But, despite the wheels falling off the St George juggernaut late in the season, Benji still rates the Saints the No.1 contenders for the premiership.
On that thinking, by deduction then, if the Saints can be beaten in week one, then it follows that Balmain must be the No.2 chance.
We shall be there to see.

CRONULLA-SUTHERLAND SHARKS 22: Tries: Williams (2), Mills, Smith. Goals: Williams (3).
WESTS TIGERS 30: Tries: Farah (3), Brown, Moltzen, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (3).
At Shark Park, Cronulla.
Crowd: 16,879.

ducks & drakes

2011-09-01T04:18:00.000-07:00

Emotionalists,

Well, how about that then?
Just as predicted, they really did it for the McVeigh's!
Nice one.
The Geelong record aka longest winning streak at home at 29 games stomped on, not to mention Sydney's first win at the House of Pain in 12 years.
Without doubt a landmark victory that was worth much more than the mere premiership points.
The Goodes Train busted them wide open in the mid-field, with Rhino and Bolton, J. on assist as the rovers working off Mummy as he smashed them to bits in the hit outs, while In Like McGlynn did some strong work in front of goal as did Rick Shaw, with the youngsters Parker and Reid to finish off, along with The Rohan Kiddie.
A case of the "Best" in the scorebox in the Sunday morning fishwraps could have easily read "All Played Well".
It was touching to see The Train cry as he came off the field; he would have really felt for his mate Oddhead, but would have also been overcome by the fact that he'd been to Kardinia Park year in year out for so many years and never got any satisfaction from it, and now, at long last, there was something worthwhile in the trip.
Swans took the opportunity on offer, and went for it.
You could of course take the cynical view that there was a whiff of tanking going on with regards to the Geelong performance.
Unlikely given that maintaining the ridiculous winning run at home would have held some importance for them, but the fact of the matter is that they have known for a very long time that they will comfortably finish in the top four, probably second or third, will almost certainly play their favoured opponent Hawthorn in the first week of the finals in the knowledge that a win gives them a saloon passage through to a grand final qualifier without having to play again, and therefore they didn't need to bust a gut to improve their finishing position.
For the Cats it really was a nothing game.
What's the point of playing flat out and risking injury when there's nothing in it for you?
It probably didn't happen, they "just didn't turn up to play" is the usual excuse, but there is a bit of wondering going on about it in the blogosphere.
Then there's the super-cynical view that suggests if the outcome of the game was known before it began, then the $9 on offer at the books about the Swans to win straight out would of been irresistable.
Surely not?
Well, there have been no reports of irregularities and the stewards haven't called for the betting sheets, so that one can be pretty well ruled out.
But still, there is certainly some late season ducks & drakes going on in the AFL, much more so than in the rugby league.
Perhaps it's best to call it what they describe in 10-pin bowling as "sandbagging" - doing just enough to protect your position.
Who knows?
What is known is that the Hare-Clarke Duckworth-Lewis System used in the AFL finals massively favours the top four.
It's also known that the Swans will play the Saints in the first week of the finals with the venue the only question, but whether it's here or there hardly matters, as it's almost impossible to win the flag from the bottom half of the eight.
Oddhead probably won't ask to be picked this week, and who can blame him, but watch out for the bloke on a mission in the finals.
After that performance and a pretty much on-song season, what chance The Train in a tie with Mr Judd for their third Brownlow each??
Bamfords like consistency, a level playing field, that sort of thing.
The news filtered through mid week that Tadhg "The Great Irishman" Kennelly has given the game away.
The writing was on the wall really when you can no longer be guaranteed a game in the firsts
Probably played on a year too long, but you'd happily give him that.
An ornament to the game who had a glittering career, and a fiercely loyal clubman who will long be remembered.
After all, there's not many who can retire with both an AFL Premiership and an All Ireland Championship to their credit.

GEELONG: 2.5, 5.7, 8.10, 12.14 (86). Goals: Ling 3, Bartel 2, Menzel, Wojcinski, Stokes, Byrnes, Johnson, Varcoe, West.
SYDNEY: 3.1, 7.5, 10.9, 15.9 (99). Goals: Rohan 2, J Bolton 2, Parker 2, Reid 2, Goodes, McGlynn, Meredith, J. Kennedy, White, Spangher, Mumford.
At Kardinia Park.
Crowd: 25,900.

Ducked into the Front Bar at The Local just in time to catch up with the Good Lady Wife as she walked home from the train from the office.
Noticed that the Brown Brothers were entirely absent on a quiet Monday night, but The Philospher was in, nursing a glass of this week's House Red special, a cheeky Barossa Valley shiraz.
Strangely, the biggest screen in the pub is in the Bistro, so we moved to a front row table and they were kind enough to serve us plates and bowls of noodles as we happily watched the Mighty Tiges whipsaw the hapless Titans.
How long has it been now since the Farah/Marshall Show caught fire?
The purple patch has now extended out to seven undefeated weeks, so it's got to be a couple of weeks longer than that.
In his best ever season, Benji on the burst is right out of the box.
It's not much of a stretch of the imagination to suggest that he just might be the most spectacular player in any football code world wide.
It's a big call, but the trade marked jink, the step, the weave are of course, plain genius.
But he also showed in this game his tremendous speed over 10-15 metres from an almost standing start, not to mention his well known ability and agility to throw the dummy in a way in which most players think he wouldn't throw the dummy.
It makes him one of the most lethal finishers in the caper; doesn't matter whether he passes, kicks, or palms it off, or scores himself, the bloke is undoubtedly at the height of his career.
It also helps that his paradoxically poor goal kicking has improved out of sight in recent weeks
As The Stats Guru pointed out: after one try, two try assists, four line breaks, eight tackle busts, four goals and 187 run metres in attack, it was little wonder that SC Sheens benched Benji for a well deservered rest with 12 minutes left in the match and didn't use him again with the result already well beyond doubt.
"thanks mate. that'll do for tonight".
Deserves the pinnacle of another premiership, if anyone does, if only for his loyal service.
The Best Leb In The Game is also having a landmark season, and relishes being Marshall's partner in crime.
Robbie can read Benji like a book, and visa versa.
Forwards are playing as well as any pack in the league.
Steely in defence and making plenty of yards in attack while laying the platform for the backs to do their thing.
Although most people don't see it, Balmain's third marquee player is That Pom Ellis - and his wage is now comparable to the other two, after signing his new contract - a genuine old school hardman who stamps his authority on the game and dominates the tough stuff all around the park.
Said it before, say it again, Gareth...worth his weight in gold.
As we left the pub through the Front Bar after the on field full-time interviews, The Philospher fixed me with his beady eye and said "The publican has mucked around with the abacus out the back. He says that's enough for top four. In the bag".
And so it came to pass.
The McIntyre Finals System is rather more convoluted than the system used in the AFL - but it's very good in that it tends to favour teams coming into the finals with good recent form and therefore ladder position.
Sandbagging is not rewarded.
In the Mcintyre, the scheduling of the first week of the finals is crucial so no one knows that they really have to win, or can cop a loss, to get through to the next week.
It must be played in the exact order of 4 vs 5, 3 vs 6, 2 vs 7, 1 vs 8.
So, after they easily put away the Sharks in the final round of home and away this week, the Tiges will meet the Cowboys in Week 1 of the finals, most likely at home [with three home grounds to choose from, they'll no doubt take the SFS and put in 30,000+].
It's oh so freakingly similar to the Miracle of '05, when they also had a late season purple patch, and then just kept on winning all the way to the flag.
However, as SC Sheens would no doubt be quick to point out, optimism is a good thing, but counting your chickens is not

WESTS TIGERS 39. Tries: Ayshford, Heighington, Marshall, Moltzen, Ryan, Tuqiri, Utai. Goals: Marshall (4), Brown (1). Field Goals: Farah (1)
GOLD COAST TITANS 10. Tries: Mead, M.Minichiello. Goals: Campbell (1).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 14,378.

did it standing on their ear

2011-08-24T22:42:00.000-07:00

One win at a timers,

From 16-0 up at half time, this one was never in doubt, really.
Forwards were just too strong, the backs too clever, and the "Kings of The Set Play" as they were described in the television call can't be coached against, because no one, except themselves, has the faintest idea about what they might be up to next.
The Moltzen Kiddie is telling SC Sheens, that yes, he really is a full back, not some utility bench player, with an oustanding Man of the Match performance.
How they lost to Parra away in the early part of the season remains an unsolvable puzzle.
The Parramatta Eels have been a curious kettle of fish this year.
A team with a few out and out stars in the form of Hayne, Hindmarsh, Moi Moi at a pinch, and yet they are set to finish with the wooden spoon.
Who would have thought of it on paper?
They now find themselves in a hard fought battle with Gold Coast and Canberra to avoid finishing at the bottom of the heap.
Parra reminds me very much of Belfield, the team that the youngest daughter plays for in the Canterbury Women's Hockey Association comp.
She is a big burly forward - there are not too many girls who stand at 6'1" in that league - who is renowned for taking no prisoners in a violent game, and is more than a half way decent striker to boot.
Never mind that she scored a goal with 3 minutes left on the clock last week to level it up at 1-1 with the already crowned Minor Premiers; Belfield ran stone motherless last by a long way on the premiership table.
Still, she gets to play in the curtain raiser on Grand Final Day in the Pennant Cup.
It's a match between last and second last on the ladder; the winner of which proudly lifts the Pennant Cup.
It's taken very seriously.
If there is no result at full time it goes to extra time and if neccessary a penalty goal shoot out.
Is there any other sporting competition in the world that awards a handsome trophy for coming second last??
Gawd - there's a digression for you.
Back to the football.
They are still winning without their left edge with What'd I Do Guv and the Try Scoring Freak both out [but expected back for the finals], and That Pom Ellis didn't play either, after doing himself a mischief in training.
Bearing that in mind, they did it standing on their ear.
Top four is not out of the question, but they have to win the last two, and win them well, and have some other results fall their way, however the prize is well worth getting - the double bite at the cherry is priceless come September
As an aside, it's always pleasing to see justice being done mid-week, with some Magistrate acquitting the Great Benji of a trumped-up assault charge, after hearing a glowing character reference from no less than Our Dawnie Fraser.
Never mind that Marshall was outside the George St McDonalds at 3.30am of a Sunday when the incident took place [who knows what he was thinking?], in her judgement, Her Worship on throwing the charge out of court did say to Benj from the bench something along the lines of "Who can blame you? People can't go around calling other people "black c--nts" and get away with it. It's just not on. You should have clocked the idiot harder, just to teach him a lesson".
Marshall, to his credit, thanked the Magistrate for her infinite wisdom and bustled past the waiting media scrum outside court saying only "That's over. That's good. Now, let's play some rugby league".

WESTS TIGERS 31. Tries: Ayshford (2), Utai, Marshall, Ryan. Goals: Marshall (5). Field Goals: Farah (1).
PARRAMATTA EELS 12. Tries: Smith, Hicks. Goals: Burt (2).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 18,626.

Mr Ed must be as mystified as everyone else.
He certainly hasn't come up with a solution to the significant problem of the Behind Blowout.
Here's a mob of blokes who must kick a thousand goals in practice every week, and yet can't find the tall timber to save themselves when it come to match day.
Certainly, a quality full forward would help, but really, what the?
Just the ten goals, all kicked by different players
As a seasoned observer who was at the ground said to me "23.10 would have been a much prettier score".
12 behinds to half-time was a worry, and then they only won the Championship Quarter on the back of more behinds scored.
Won't be winning many finals matches on that showing.
While it looked for all the world that they could have been robbed blind by that turd Ray "Artform" Chamberlain in the opening stanza, after he gifted St Kilda two easy goals from questionable free kicks, then there was the 50m march, lawd strike me, in the end, the Swans were always in danger of having only themselves to blame in yet another horrible behindathon.
Just as perplexing is how players can have absolute shockers one week, and then feature in the "best" list in the fishwraps the next week.
A prime example being Teddy Richards; after playing the worst game of his life last week, had a very good game this week, and was close to Best on Ground for closing down Riewoldt the Elder nice and tight after he'd kicked two early goals.
Odd Head was on song, Rick Shaw was handy, The Hannebery Kiddie did some nice work, while Mummy also had a claim to Best on Ground, with his phenomenal number of hit outs in the ruck.
Would have got the three Brownlow points.
Bamfords like that sort of thing.
No wonder Seaby can't get a game.
With the paradox of the team still not being guaranteed a place in the top 8, but the prospect of a home final still in play, the Club Secretary must be shitting himself about the miserable crowd figure.
Everyone knows that Sydney sports fans are very fickle, but the 25,025 allegedly in attendance was the smallest ever crowd - by a long shot - for a Swans game at the Western Paddock [they were averaging 60,000+ in the years after the Premiership win.]
The club must be kicking themselves that they are locked into a contract to play three games there until 2016; while patrons facilities are unsurpassed and public transport is free for ticket holders, the surface is worse than a field full of cow pats, and the skinny latte sipping, chardonnay slurping, croissant munching basket weavers from the Eastern Suburbs hate going there, much preferring their own backyard at the G.
Can't be doing anything at all for club revenue.
A very sad note to finish.
The bush telegraph in the corner of the loungeroom chattered into life last night with the terrible news that Jarrad McVeigh's first born had died at just one month old.
Joisus wept.
Poor thing.
Vale Luella McVeigh.
That will knock him, and the club, around, for sure, and only goes to remind you of your own mortality.
Of course, no one blames him for not playing this week; in fact he's been brave to play in the last two.
The rest of the team will no doubt be motivated to Do It For Jarrad this weekend, and break Geelong's 29 match winning streak at home.
Let's go to Kardinia Park and see what can be done.
As the Stats Guru has pointed out, never mind that the Swans haven't won there for 12 years.

SYDNEY: 1.5, 3.12, 6.17, 10.23 (83). Goals: Shaw, McVeigh, Hannebery, O'Keefe, White, Reid, J.Bolton, Spangher, Goodes, Mumford.
ST KILDA: 3.3, 6.4, 9.6, 10.8 (68). Goals: Riewoldt 2, Armitage 2, Goddard, Gilbert, Ray, Lynch, Milne, Polo.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 25,025.

an all-round fiasco

2011-08-18T06:16:00.000-07:00

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.

never in doubt

2011-08-10T17:04:00.000-07:00

Heart patients,

Ooh.
There's something going on here.
There's premature talk in fandom that this could be the start of another '05 miracle, as the circumstances at this stage of the season are remarkably similar.
Quite rightly, SC Sheens attempted to put the firehose on unreasonable expectation, telling the scribblers from the fishwraps on interview after the game:
"You can hype us up all you like. I don't care. A few weeks ago you were bagging us. No one tipped us this weekend, no one tipped us last weekend. We have to wear that."
It was as well a constructed win of any this year.
For any opposition it's always very difficult to deal with the Farah/Marshall Show when its on fire, with another try by the Great Benji that he scored himself that was by all reports worth the price of admission alone, for the second week running.
But what most impressed everyone was the rugged pre-emptive pro-active defence - always on the advantage line, not waiting for the opposition attackers to come to them - go up to them and bash the crap out of them being the simple raison d'etre.
The Great Skando would have had a lot to do with the new style of forward play that's been finely tuned over the past month or so.
John Skandalis can't decide whether he's the Strength & Conditioning Coach or the Forwards Coach [perhaps they are the same - he doesn't pretend to know].
In the 249 games that he played for Western Suburbs and Balmain he certainly learnt the value of getting right up into your opponent's face before giving him one.
It annoys the shit out of most opposition forward packs, and its all legal and above board.
Down 0-8 at half time was never going to be a problem, the result was never in doubt, with the Dragons belted from pillar to post in the first 40.
The last two weeks, as it has been for most the year, has been a very clever all round coaching effort.
SC Sheens dreams up the set plays, specifically designed for each different game and meticulously drills them into the players on the training track.
St Tim has form when it comes to coaching a champion team, rather than a team of champions, and in fact, goes out to lunch and trades on that record.
It appears Peter Gentle has slipped easily into the Assistant Coach role left vacant by SC Simmons; all he has to do is be around to put out spot fires both on and off the field.
Does a lot of leg work around the practice paddock, and can spot a critical moment in a game and have a short word in SC Sheens shell like in case the main man hadn't picked it up.
In the players' down time, he acts, as Royce did, like the Club Welfare Officer and Team Chaplain.
Everyone, except the fans of course, is trying to play down the fact that on the back of four consecutive wins, the Tigers last four games are against teams that are already gorn for the year, and they appear on paper to now be bidding for a top four finish if they manage to put together an end of season mega purple patch of eight wins in a row.
But, with lowly ranked teams looking to prove that they aren't as bad as they look by upsetting the applecart and beating good sides who are challenging for the finals, there's always the chance of the wheels falling off the bandwagon.
So it's probably best to leave it at the that, with a top eight finish all but assured, and the argument about the order of the final table yet to come.

WESTS TIGERS 16. Tries: Fulton, Marshall, Ryan. Goals: Marshall (2).
ST GEORGE ILLAWARRA DRAGONS 14. Tries: Boyd, Morris. Goals: Soward (2), Hornby (1).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 27,687.

A bloody point, eh?
Never did see a single frame of this game live, on account of being otherwised engaged at a social function of football non-believers, and it was a very good thing too.
Of course, had no desire to have a look at the newsreels the next day.
A bloody point.
Pour me another drink, Fawlty.
A fierce loyalist gave me a ring after the game and told me that he was forced to reach for the heart pills on more than one occaision, and by three quarter time was on the verge of ringing the local hospital to get an ambo parked out the front of his place on stand-by.
Beaten 5-3 goals in the Championship Quarter didn't bode well by all first hand accounts.
Coach Horse waxed lyrical post-match about "missed opportunities", but really the Swans record in front of goal this year has been nothing short of deplorable with more than a couple of blowouts in the behinds department.
Playing the Ugliest Man in Football Lewis Roberts-Thompson at full-forward in recent weeks after having played his entire career at full-back only goes to show how desperate they are for a genuine, quality full forward.
Where's BBB Hall when you need him? [er, at the Bulldogs kicking goals like there's no tomorrow].
They need someone like Buddy Franklin up front.
The Goodes Train can be relied upon to snap the miracle goal, but has always been flaky from the set shot; In Like McGlynn should be kicking more goals like it says that he should do in his contract, while x y and z have no obvious target to kick to from just outside the 50.
The Reid Kiddie looks the goods when he's in the forward pocket, the Jetta Kiddie can kick 'em from anywhere when he puts his mind to it, as can the Birdy and Rhino, but it's so very obvious they are in acute need of a bit of marquee tall timber in the goal square.
Hard to see them going places in September on that basis, even if the mid-field led by Son of Gary is very strong, the ruck is as serviceable as any other in the game, and the backs do their job.
Seasoned observers at the ground suggest that The Train easily picked up the three Brownlow Points in a class display, reminiscient of old, and yet failed at the denoument to boot the clincher.
The look on his face in the photographs in the instant after that clearly shows the Ol' Fella is human after all.
Tickets in hand for the MCG this Sunday afternoon.
Can't be accused of being anything less than loyal, as it's our second away game of the season after Manuka.
And keen to have a looky at the renovations at the ground, since it was last graced with my presence way way back at the 1987 VFL Grand Final!
The heart pills are safely stashed in the carry on luggage.

ESSENDON: 1.2, 8.5, 13.7, 15.10 (100). Goals: Reimers 4, Hille 3, Leroy Jetta 2, Zaharakis 2, Hurley, Melksham, Stanton, Davey.
SYDNEY: 3.3, 9.4, 12.6, 14.15 (99). Goals: Reid 3, Goodes 3, Lewis Jetta 2, Dennis-Lane, Kennedy, Bird, Mumford, McGlynn, O'Keeffe.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 38,700.

Craves.

"big trouble if they're there in September"

2011-08-02T18:51:00.001-07:00

Eternal optimists,

It was as if it was the game that they had been waiting to play all year.
And it only took them until round 21.
Only.
But who can blame them?
With the Sick Bay full of casualties in the first third of the season, they're now back to more or less full strength [minus Tuqiri and Daniela, who've been disregarded in the game plan for weeks now anyway].
The mid-season ructions, what with forced transfers and others taking the tap on the shoulder and being told a better option would be elsewhere appears to have settled down.
Apart from That Pom Ellis [Man of the Match for the second week in a row] and the Farah/Marshall Show, the best players were those who will be at other clubs next year.
No doubt SC Sheens reminded them that their cheques are still being signed by the Balmain club secretary, and there's a job at hand to be gotten on with.
If the they play poorly in the pointy end, they'll arrive at their new club with the powers that be whingeing and whining about paying too much for them and they will never hear the end of it.
Money as motivation tends to work, generally.
SC Sheens was not much worried about being down to nil at half-time, saying on interview after the game "I thought we would roll over them in the second half and we'd have points in us "; what he didn't say was that the other half of the equation was to keep Manly scoreless in the second-half with granite-like defence.
Although, to win the match with three tries in six minutes - even though Benji had left his kicking boots at his Mum's place - was a bit cheeky.
It was then a simple case of hanging onto possession for dear life and strangling the game to death from a territorial point of view; even with just a two point margin, a field goal wasn't required, nor attempted.
Spies at the ground suggest the try put on by That Try Scoring Freak Lawrence was well worth the price of admission alone.
The Great Benji on the burst, the trademark jink, the weave; looks over his shoulder and sees that Lawrence is with him at full pace on the blindside, gives him a wink and a nod; another jink and another weave the other way, busts a couple of tackles, chucks an outlandish gimmee dummy, and then throws the miracle "no-look" pass.
Of course Lawrence - who knew precisely what was going - accepts the ball neatly on his chest as he goes like the clappers, and runs 35 metres to the try line and plants it underneath the black dot without so much as a finger being laid on him.
Said it before, says it again...running rugby league...no finer sight in world sport, for mine.
High fives all round, indeed.
And it's all the sweeter to beat the Evil Silvertails - a team that's even more universally hated than Collingwood is down Mexico way.
That's one litmus test passed, with another one this weekend against a St George side that's paradoxically lost its last two against lowly ranked opposition after having a season that was up to that point surrounded by an aura of invincibility.
SC Bennett has whipped the Dragons on the training track after telling them they'd "lost their hunger".
Oops, they'll be a tough ask for the Tigers after that.
Wandered into the Front Bar at The Local on Monday morning and found The Philosopher, as usual, in his place, nursing this week's favoured tipple, a Harvey Wallbanger, no less for gawd's sake.
He was more talkative than usual.
Mumbled something about it being the horses birthday and that he'd had a reasonably good day on the punt on Saturday, although he did dismiss the quality of winter racing as "rubbish".
Asked his opinion on the Tigers win, he just said that "Manly were due to be shown up. Frauds."
A couple of Brown Brothers at the other end of the bar who were enjoying some sneaky schooners of Toohey's Old on a quick break from their jobs on the local roads and were waxing lyrical about the recent form of the NZ Worriers, piped up and asked The Philospher how he rated Balmain's chances of making the top eight.
"Well, that's up to the abacus, of course", he said, looking at them quizzically, before vehmently venturing "but by Jesus, Joseph, and bloody Mother Mary, they will cause some big trouble if they're there in September".

MANLY-WARRINGAH SEA EAGLES 12. Tries: Ballin, B.Stewart. Goals: Lyon (2).
WESTS TIGERS 14. Tries: Ayshford, Lawrence, Lui. Goals: Marshall (1).
At Central Coast Stadium, Gosford.
Crowd: 20,059.

SYDNEY: Bye.

the sweet aroma of cooking chooks

2011-07-28T05:43:00.000-07:00

Tenants of the Terraces,

We were rather chuffed at the finish.
The Good Lady Wife remarked, "now that was very satisfactory all 'round".
She was right.
An excellent exhibition of rugby league; probably the best game of the season in terms of competitiveness in either code all year - never mind that it became a bit scrappy as they got tired in the end.
Always good to see two big, rangy, mobile packs go hammer and tongs, intent only on bashing the crapola out of each other for the full 80 minutes.
And both sides had some half-way decent backs to play off the back of that.
And the Bamfords were inconspicuous; glanced at the scoreboard clock when the ref first blew his whistle and it read 23 minutes gone.
The game was a very good case for leaving the players to get on with it without interference from the umpires, and these Bamfords to their credit, understood that.
The powers that be actively discouraged people from going to the ground after the best part of 200mm of rain [call that eight inches in the old money] had fallen in the Emerald City in the four days prior due to a weather phenomenon know as a mob of "complex East Coast Lows".
It was widely advertised that sections of the hill would be cordoned off as dangerous and uninhabitable [three areas, as it turned out; if people sat on them on plastic sheets they'd just slide down the hill and take half of it with them in a landslide, and no one couldn't possibly stand on the shifting ground], and that the reserve grade game had been cancelled along with the pre-match and half-time entertainment.
Even the dancing girls had been warned off, for chrissake.
You get one game of football, and that's it.
They didn't tell us that the back gate was closed, due to the approaches being ankle deep in mud, so walking in from Leichhardt we were diverted down the lane-way along the side of the ground to go in with everyone else through the Mary Street front gate.
There was almost no one in standing room on the terrace at the 20m line at the Swimming Pool End.
Lucky for the ground managers that they were playing Easts, who are as good as an out of town team, given that Easts fans don't travel.
They wouldn't go as far as Rozelle on their holidays as they have a mental block about anything west of Railway Square, not to mention the fact that one more loss for the Roosters would see them all but cactus for the season.
So it proved to be very comfortable, even though the beer cans were too cold to hold [forgot the gloves, again]; a big crowd under the conditions would have been intolerable.
Ironically, not a drop of rain fell during the game, but remarkably the ground only really got chopped up in the in-goal and along the touch lines.
Still, it was a night for the forwards.
It's very easy to forget just how good a player Gareth "That Pom" Ellis is, until you see him in the flesh.
One of the very last old school hard men from the dark satanic mills and one of the very few Poms who have made a name for themselves in first grade.
Can't think of any other prop forward in the caper who hits harder in the tackle -- putting in some nice, legal, work up and down the torso of the tacklee as they go down in a screaming heap.
Doesn't mind a bit of violence when it's sanctioned by the rules, and can cop it too, reckoning it comes with the territory.
Not sure that there's anyone else in the game at present who's better over 10 metres, running the ball up through the middle of the ruck in heavily defended territory, bumping bigger boofier blokes out of the way and leaving would be tacklers groaning, sprawled on the ground in his wake.
Doesn't bust the advantage line often, but routinely makes crucial yards.
There's nothing fancy about the way he goes about his work, but boy, he just quietly puts the fear up opposition forwards, who universally hate playing against him.
Little wonder they extended his contract by three years on a bloated stipend.
Said it before, say it again: worth his weight in gold.
Give him Man of the Match for the night, for mine.
In stark contrast, Lote "What'd I Do Guv?" Tuqiri was in his first game back after a knee that kept him out for month or so, and you could see that SC Sheens had wrapped him up tight in cotton wool.
There was nothing going on on the left edge all night.
Lote hardly saw the ball, never took a hit, trotted about on his own or just stood there like a shag on a rock and really didn't do anything at all, by design.
Good coaching.
And yet Tuqiri still managed to do a mischief to a pec, and will miss yet more games.
If anyone's been cruelled by injury this season, it's him.
It came down to a crude game of chess in the end with the Great Benji fishing for a field goal at least ten minutes out from full time, working on the Wok Ryan principle that "it's easier to get one early, than it is to get one late".
Sprayed two drop kicks well wide of the uprights, Farah had a pot shot that didn't even clear the black dot, before Marshall sent the ball, oscillating wildly, over the cross bar with six minutes left on the clock for the match winning seven point lead.
Game over.
The sweet aroma of cooking chooks.
What with having to skirt around the ground on the way back, wander up through the metal hospital, drop in for a rest at the Orange Grove Hotel, to the motor, we calculated the walk at well over a mile, up hill and down dale.
Hard work for old, but happy, fans, who wished they still lived in Rozelle.
No doubt the Manly Silvertails and the Wollongong Dragons will apply the blow torch to the belly over the next couple of weeks.
It's what's called in coaching circles a "challenging draw", and it's exactly what Balmain needs.
If the Mighty Tiges can win at least one of them, you'd have to be thinking a top eight finish is all but a certainty, even though top four may well be out of reach without a purple patch.

WESTS TIGERS 19. Tries: Ryan, Fulton, Ayshford. Goals: Marshall (3). Field Goals: Marshall (1).
SYDNEY ROOSTERS 12. Tries: Leilua, Guerra. Goals: Carney (2).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 10,187.

After Big Bad Barry Hall - on one leg on the the first leg of his farewell tour - booted the first two goals for the Dogs the feeling in my water took a turn for the worse.
In the end it was good of BBB to bag a fiver without spoiling the Sydney party.
At last the Swans learnt how to play wet weather football, and someone in the dressing room wised up after the slipoverathon of the week previous, and managed to screw the right spriggs into the boots this week.
Just poke the ball forward as much as you can and get it into a spot where you might have some sort of chance of kicking a goal.
Playing on wet tracks is not rocket science.
And still they managed to kick more behinds.
Keiren 'Son of Gary' Jack would have undoubtedly picked up the 3 Brownlow points on offer for best on ground.
Popped up everywhere and did everything right; a brilliant game.
At last, club management couldn't pretend that more than twenty thousand people go to Sydney home games week in week out.
They don't.
The Swans marketing department lives in morbid fear of an official crowd figure of less than 20K, but this time the turnstiles could be over-wound or fudged no further.
True, the weather hadn't been that good and the Swans had lost in it last week, but as the stats guru points out, it was the lowest official attendence at the SCG in nine years.
Mmm.
And the Greater Western Sydney Pygmies think they might get a crowd?
Mmm.
Sixth on the ladder aint a bad place to be with six rounds to go, and Coach Horse would no doubt welcome this week's bye, as there are more than a few of the lads playing with niggles that could use a rest.
Just go away for a week.

SYDNEY: 2.4, 7.10, 11.14, 16.18 (114). Goals: Bird 4, McGlynn 2, McVeigh 2, Reid 2, Goodes 2, Roberts-Thomson 2, Bolton, Malceski.
WESTERN BULLDOGS: 2.1, 7.3, 8.5, 11.9 (75). Goals: Hall 5, Hooper 2, Grant, Jones, Liberatore.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 19,449.

Over Beer

2011-07-28T04:23:00.000-07:00

Chairman of selectors,

Pleasing to see the Muso gets a guernsey in the squad for MJ Clarke's debut as test captain.
Saw the Trent Copeland kiddie a few times at SCG last summer playing for NSW; nicknamed him the Muso after the more famous Copland, Aaron.
Tall, muscular frame, correct, orthodox right-arm action and can generate genuine pace bowling long spells.
Has a very good off cutter, a wicked straight ball that hurries the batsman up and gets through the gate quite often, but the in-swinger needs work.
Still, dripping with potential.

Test squad to tour Sri Lanka:

Michael Clarke, Captain (30, NSW)
Shane Watson, Vice-captain (30 NSW)
Michael Beer (27, WA)
Trent Copeland (25, NSW)
Brad Haddin (33, NSW)
Ryan Harris (31, Qld)
Phillip Hughes (22, NSW)
Michael Hussey (36, WA)
Mitchell Johnson (29, WA)
Usman Khawaja (24, NSW)
Nathan Lyon (23, SA)
Shaun Marsh (28, WA)
James Pattinson (21, Vic)
Ricky Ponting (36, Tas)
Peter Siddle (26, Vic)

I'm over Beer, and know nothing at all about Nathan Lyon, except that he's been picked as the token South Australian.
Seeing they've left Smiffy out, they might as well pick my mother as the spinner.

an artform in his own right

2011-07-20T23:28:00.000-07:00

Fellow disgustees,

Tumbled out of the turnstiles at half time, after being given a "smoke pass" by some Indian gentleman at the gate to go to the SCG's salubrious smoking lounge [aka the footpath on Driver Ave in the rain with no cover], when a woman who would have been well into her sixties stormed out of the ground.
She was absolutely livid.
She tightly gripped her packet of cigarettes and lit one up with a shaky hand and then announced loudly to anyone within earshot who cared to listen.
"Ray FAARKING Chamberlain! He's an artform in his own right. Oh, how I HATE that turd".
At half time!
That was before the most senior Bamford of the field did his best work.
Me mate who gave me the free ticket [thanks, Trev] picked it even before a ball had been bounced.
The first thing he did when he got a copy of The Record was open it up to see who was umpiring.
"Joisus", he said, "we've got Razor Ray Chamberlain. Bloody hell. Watch out".
And so the most disgraceful display of umpiring seen in living memory came to pass.
No less than seven of the Dockers 15 goals were a direct result of free kicks; a few from 50m penalties, the rest given right in front, for what could be at best described as minor infringements or no infringement at all.
Chamberlain was chiefly responsible, and might as well have kicked half of Fremantle's goals himself.
He took a dislike to Teddy Richards early on.
In the first quarter, Richards had copped a 50m penalty for giving Chamberlain a bit of well justified back chat, but he stood his ground, didn't move, as his opposite number went up into the goal square to boot the major.
Richards knew if he ran the 50m back to mark his man, Chamberlain would give him a lecture all the way about language and how one should appropriately address a Bamford.
Teddy decided he wasn't remotely interested in copping that from the buffoon and wouldn't have a bar of it.
He just stood there like a pillar of salt, and Chamberlain was less than impressed, and took it upon himself to punish the bloke every time he touched the ball.
Swans could do nothing right in his eyes, and he was well aided and abetted by his other partners in crime.
It is very very hard to stomach officialdom making an exhibition of themselves.
Good Bamfords should not be noticed, let alone drawing attention to their daft antics, but this troika of fools were intent on running about pointing at themselves as if to say "Look at me! FIGJAM! See how important I am!?"
Could carry on like a pork chop about it, but won't.
Suffice to say shoving a fistful of fingers down the back of throat and bringing up a gutful of execrable SCG beer would have been a dignified and approriate response.
Soon after half time the crowd had had enough and went ballistic.
Every time a Bamford, any Bamford; boundary umpire, goal umpire, field umpire had the ball in his hands, there would be a resounding round of boos from all around the ground.
The people on the bleachers had obviously not got the message from "Be Kind To Umpires Week" earlier in the season.
The ground authorities hurriedly closed all the bars at three-quarter time, obviously fearing an alcohol-fuelled riot.
By then the assembled mob was apoplectic, and still worse was yet to come.
With the Swans closing in in the last quarter it looked like they could win despite all the odds being stacked against them, but the rookie Bamford on the ground [who was umpiring in his 7th game for gawd's sake] gave the Dockers yet another 50m for Sydney back chat and then gave them another free right in front to gift Fremantle the match winning two goal lead.
We threw our hats to the ground, stomped on them, offered the idiot a few choice words, and then joined the exodus of Swans loyalists who had well and truly had enough.
Seen it all now in 25 years following Sydney.
Lord, save me.
Coach Horse on interview after the game said he was giving some thought to ringing up the umpires "coaching director" Jeff Gieschen [whoever the hell he is] and giving him a piece of his mind along the lines of "if you ever give us that goose Chamberlain again this season, I'll kill ya, ya bastard. Understand?"
Mr Ed thought better of it after Gieschen told the fishwraps that words had already been had in Chamberlain's shell-like.
"Our instruction to Ray is 'just umpire the game' and let your decision making do the talking".
Lord, help me.

PS. Can't let the retirement of The Great BBB Hall pass unremarked.
The youngest daughter just the other day found a Sydney Swans Barry Hall badge that you pin to your lapel, in a clean out.
It shows Big Bad grinning like some kind of idiot savant.
When she heard that the premiership winning full forward hadb announced he was giving the game away, she said "jeez, that could be worth some money now on Ebay".
Hall was a brilliant sideshow at the Swans; loved being a serial pest, throwing his weight around and kicking goals, hated, really hated Bamfords with a passion, and didn't mind clocking blokes - although he never hit an honest man - and went about his game with a healthy disregard for the rules.
So, he got into trouble with the umpires, and the tribunal for that matter, from time to time.
Who can blame him?
His only regret after no less than 16 seasons in the caper is that he never did make it to playing 300 games through suspension [lost about a season and a half in total by being rubbed out down at the Tribunal through no fault of his own] and injury [another season and a half], to qualify for AFL life membership - not that they'd have him, anyway.
Baz was thinking he would never be picked for the Hall of Fame, that was until Wayne Carey was admitted.
Now it's only a matter of time.
Vale Barry, go well.

SYDNEY: 3.2, 6.3, 8.5, 13.9 (87). Goals: Roberts-Thomson 3, Hannebery 2, Parker 2, Goodes 2, McVeigh, Jack, Reid, Grundy.
FREMANTLE: 3.2, 7.4, 14.7, 15.8 (98). Goals: Ballantyne 3, Mayne 2, Johnson 2, Fyfe, Palmer, Grover, Pavlich, Clarke, Hill, Lower, de Boer.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 23,415.

Found myself pottering about in Dad's Shed on Saturday night attending to a couple of a long neglected jobs, gearing up for spring, and so got on the ladder and rigged up the the long range AM radio aeriel on the roof to get the call beaming in live from ABC Brisvegas, as no one else was carrying it live.
Lucky it wasn't a close match as the signal wavered in and out - could have missed the match winning try.
Only goes to prove once again how important the Farah/Marshall show is.
When those two are on fire, Balmain can beat any side in the comp.
The hooker, who plays just about every play at dummy half and the five-eighth brilliantly combine to put on the set plays drilled into them at training - there is no way of the opposition coaching against that - not to mention the individual spontaneity that can turn a game on its head.
They had a hand or two in just about every try.
And Marshall, for the first time this season, had a perfect game with the goal kicking boot [he obviously didn't forget to ask his Mum to polish them this week], potting no less than six conversions and a penalty goal.
Goes without saying that that always has a positive impact on the scoreboard.
Did like SC Sheens' cheek picking Timmy Moltzen, in his first game after signing om with St George, at full back and dropping McKinnon altogether.
It was as if the Super Coach said to the bloke "Right then. You reckon you can play full back? OK. I'm picking you at full-back for the rest of the season and we'll see how you go. If I have to ring up St George at the end of the year to tell them that they paid too much for you, whose fault would that be, then? Yours."
With four inches of rain having fallen in the Emerald City in the past 48 hours [and it's still pissing down], word out of Lilyfield suggests Leichhardt Oval is underwater and the ground staff will struggle to pull a firm surface together for this Saturday night's game against Easts.
Just adds to the fun.

NORTH QUEENSLAND COWBOYS 18. Tries: Paterson (2), Tonga (2). Goals: Bowen (1).
WESTS TIGERS 38. Tries: Ayshford (2), Ellis, Fulton, Marshall, Moltzen. Goals: Marshall (7).
At Townsville Stadium.
Crowd: 12,829.

trooble at mill

2011-07-12T04:46:00.000-07:00

Axemen,

There's trooble at mill.
SC Sheens has obviously made a free and frank mid-season assessment that the current squad is not nearly playing up to their potential and are in danger of missing the eight when they are clearly, on paper, top four material.
So, St Tim has decided that some dead wood needs to be cut to make room in the salary cap for some new buys for next year.
A couple of weeks ago Andrew Fifita [looks the goods, quality youngster who could go places] and Bryce Gibbs [one of the Sensational Six still going around for the Tigers after appearing in the '05 Miracle Grand Final, mind you] were told that they were suddenly unloved and unwanted, and that they would have to go look for employ elsewhere next season.
They were both indignant, saying they didn't want to leave Leichhardt, but had no choice as they were being unceremoniously shuffled out the back door without so much as a sausage.
They were both quickly snapped up by Cronulla-Sutherland, which only made them more filthy.
They don't want to go to The Shire, they don't want to play for The Shire, but they find themselves in the invidious position of having to if they still want to make a fair living out of the game.
While you can see the reason in it, it did raise the member's collective eyebrow.
And having unhappy campers around who are playing out their current contracts can never be good for morale at a football club.
Then last Friday, St George-Illawarra announced that they had signed Timmy Moltzen [Benji Marshall's flat-mate, no less] for next year, after the Tigers had agreed to let him out of the last year of his contract with Balmain.
The Tigers club secretary hit the roof, describing the announcement as "disgraceful", premature, and "very poor form", while confirming that yes, it was true.
Fair enough.
Moltzen wants to play full back, and the Saints will have a vacancy in that department, and he knows under SC Sheens he will never be more that a utility back benchwarmer.
Wade McKinnon had already made his mind up earlier in the season that he would take the well worn path and finish his playing days in the dark satanic mills of northern England, while Todd "The Refrigerator" Payten [another one of the Sensational Six] had always made it clear that this season would be his last before he took up the pipe and slippers in the Jason recliner.
Then the Sunday scandal sheets reported that Chris Heighington [joisus, another of the Sensational Six] and "Be My" Beau Ryan would almost certainly move on to Penrith, who are prepared to give them a job next year, and that Liam Fulton [yet another of the Sensational Six, for gawd's sake] was also being shopped.
Eight players -- that's a fair amount of lopping going on!
SC Sheens has obviously made his mind up about a few things and a few players, and who can blame him, as that's what any good coach is paid handsomely to do.
He reckons the current Balmain reserve grade side, chock full as it is of Brown Brothers, will form the nucleus of the future pack, while there are a few junior backs who could at least make the first grade bench next year.
All you need to do then is buy a few big names to add to the marquee players that they are retaining and a couple of proven positional workhorses and Bob's your uncle
But, (and it's a very big but given the gamble that's being taken) the jury will be out for a while as to whether it's a brilliant long term strategy, albeit most likely at the expense of a current season that crashes and burns, or not.
Instability?
What instability?
The effort against the Eels failed to belie what is going on off the field.
Probably the worst game of the season, nay, a complete shocker.
Few of the players, if any, appeared to have their heart in it.
After we had both endured watching the game on the crystal bucket with the two-bar heater going flat out in front of the double-bummed lounge, remarked to the GLW at the finish that the Balmain performance had been "weak".
She demurred, saying "yes, not very satisfactory, is it?" before she thought for a moment then stood up, brought herself to her full height, stamped her foot on the floor tiles and exclaimed "NO! In fact, it was bullshit!".
Thinking it was best to leave it at that.
On interview after the game SC Sheens was asked if the current off-field ructions were contributing to the recent poor on-field outings.
He just said "I knew you would ask that question first up. The answer is you can say what you like".

PARRAMATTA EELS 22: Tries Atkins, Maitua, Morgan. Goals: Burt (5).
WESTS TIGERS 6: Tries: Lui. Goals: Marshall (1).
At Parramatta Stadium.
Crowd: 19,654.

It was so riveting the GLW decided to attempt the crossword soon after half time, and then fell asleep.
Any miniscule hope the Gold Coast Pluto's had of winning it, let alone making a game of it, evaporated when Son of God limped off with a bit of a knee in the second quarter.
Some of those poor kids they've got playing for them are reasonably easy to run rings around.
Karmichael Hunt might be a reasonable half back one day, but considering his stellar career in the rugby league, it's a pale shadow in comparison.
An expensive experiment that might work, but probably not.
He'll take the money and go back to league you would've thought.
Small wonder that Bolton, J. picked up a knee in the warm up and was replaced by an emergency.
Was never going to play.
Why risk your best player of the moment in a nothing match?
Rhino Keefe and Odd Head McVeigh would've picked up some cheap Brownlow votes to add to their already considerable tallies.
But, little or no comfort can be drawn from handing out an eleven goal football lesson to a bunch of midgets, especially as the Swans managed to score but one goal in the Championship quarter against that quality of opposition.
Dear oh dear.
Something to mark down in the "we'll take our wins" side of the Coach's Ledger, if ever there was one.

GOLD COAST: 1.6, 3.6, 3.9, 4.12 (36). Goals: Swallow 2, Iles, Lynch.
SYDNEY: 5.4, 9.7, 10.12, 15.16 (106). Goals: McVeigh 3, Reid 3, Goodes 2, Parker 2, McGlynn, Jack, RobertsThomson, Spangher, Malceski.
At New Carrara Stadium.
Crowd:16,488

wouldn't know a set of goalposts if they fell on them

2011-07-05T23:25:00.000-07:00

Fellow Frustratees,

What can you say, really?
They only had themselves to blame is stating the bleeding obvious.
If any further confirmation was needed that the Swans wouldn't know a set of goalposts if they fell on them, then this was surely it.
Never mind that they turned up at Dinosaur Stadium in the pouring rain throughout; they somehow contrived to play wet weather football from the completely wrong end of the stick.
Just could not see the point in hacking the ball out of the ruck, dropping it on the boot in hope -- saying a Hail Mary, and seeing where she goes.
Joisus.
At least the Jetta Kiddie had the right idea, when its slippery underfoot the only way to go is to run the ball and offload some well-aimed well-timed handballs; kicking only to finish and score points.
The game plan, what there was of it, went out the window under the conditions and crashed and burned.
Swans had any number of chances to bury the game - even with a saturated pigskin - and should have put the Crows away soon after half time and yet for the third time this season, yes, you read right, for the third time this season, Sydney failed to boot a major in the Championship Quarter.
Bloody Nora.
Swans were murdered cold, for mine.
And what a miserable scene it was on the crystal bucket with the smallest crowd at Footy Park for a Crows game - ever - all huddled under plastic raincoats and big macks, or wearing umbrellas on their heads.
Bolton, J. is having the season of his life, while Oddhead McVeigh is playing outstanding week in week out, but they spent the entire afternoon banging their heads against a brick wall.
No doubting that Johncock of Adelaide put the three Brownlow points in the dilly bag.
Played out of his skin at half back for the home side and killed the Swans attack, as much as there was any, almost single handedly.
Brilliant game.
The GLW admitted after the match that she had a bad feeling in her water prior to the game, commenting "I just knew it would be bad, and wrong".
And so it came to pass.
Not much damage on the ladder, strangely enough, even though it's their third loss on the trot, and that after they threatened to come into a purple patch.
And guess who Coach Horse's rabble come up against this weekend?
The Gold Coast Pluto's - who are well overdue and keen for a scalp - away.
Crikey.
Anything could happen.

ADELAIDE: 2.1, 3.4, 5.5, 8.9 (57). Tippett 3, Callinan, Petrenko, Douglas, van Berlo, Sloane.
SYDNEY: 3.1, 4.5, 4.10, 6.14 (50). Jetta, Goodes, Bird, O'Keefe, Bevan, McGlynn.
At Football Park, Adelaide.
Crowd: 23,063.

All reports suggest that Balmain's own Keefy Bludnut Galloway trained the house down in the Blues camp over the weekend, and so was retained in the 19 man squad and appears certain to play off the bench for NSW in Origin III.
Good option for Sticky to have when he needs a genuine front row forward for some punch and thrust in the last twenty minutes of the decider, not mention the starch up front.
As SC Sheens, who recommended the bloke to the Blues selectors, quite rightly noted "he won't let anyone down".
SC Sheens reportedly cancelled training over the bye weekend and told the Balmain players to piss off, take a break, go away or go home, take the mind off football, just not be around, and then deliberately let the hair down, while not coming to the attention of the authorities.
Didn't want anything to do with them.
Brilliant.

WESTS TIGERS: Bye.

the fish that got away

2011-06-30T00:36:00.000-07:00

Aghastees,

Dropped into the Front Bar at The Local mid-week and ran across a bloke who vehmently blamed it all on the uniforms they were wearing.
The Western Suburbs Magpies black and white strip with a splash of pink in the form of a few token [yes! pink! he said] tiger's stripes in honour of the "women in league" round.
He pointed out that women have always taken an interest in the rugby league from day one -- it is, after all, a man's game - and there's never been anything to stop them from doing so, but then posed the question -- does it need glorification?
Everyone turned to The Philosopher for an answer, but he couldn't enlighten us as he didn't have a view on it either way; just shrugged his shoulders, and declined to comment, as if to say that was all that could be said about that, and returned to pondering his gin & tonic.
Always had a bad feeling in my water about this one along the lines of "no Benji, no cigar" on account of the No.1 marquee player couldn't take the field after picking up a knee last weekend at Leichhardt.
And so it came to pass.
In plain terms, the defence was very good, as usual, but the go forward was all at sea.
Lui at half-back appeared to be on another planet without his partner in crime - did worse than nothing - and the Best Leb in The Game didn't really know who to pass it to, as there were no obvious playmakers in a hopelessly disorganised attack.
The backs looked like they were playing on some kind of unusual drugs that turned them into headless chooks.
The new kid on the block filling in for Marshall, young Jacob Miller, acquitted himself well under the unfortunate circumstances, and while he might look the goods, he's still very green and not quite up to first grade standard just yet.
At least he had his maiden points in senior ranks courtesy of a consolation goal.
Just goes to show that the depth of the Balmain roster is getting rather thin.
Looked for all the world that the Tigers might be doughnutted, with their half of the scorebox reading 0 until the last four minutes of the match when Timmy Moltzen pounced on a Farah grubber that was sneakily toe poked out of the ruck, much to the surprise of everyone.
But in the final paralysis, it was the second loss at home in as many weeks which is not a good look for a team that wanted 'to go places' at the start of the season.
Somehow, still in the top eight - just.
SC Sheens has pencilled that one in on the "we'll learn from our losses" side of the Coach's Ledger.
He'd be thanking the Good Lord Joisus for the bye this week.
You get two points that way for not doing anything at all.
Sweet.
PS. On breaking the news that that bludnut Keith "Keefy" Galloway of Balmain had been picked in a 20-man squad for NSW for State of Origin III to the Good Lady Wife, she stamped her foot and punched the air and exclaimed "Joisus! Bloody Mary & Joseph! 'BOUT FAAAARKING TIME!!".
Now, that's women in league.

WESTS TIGERS 6. Tries: Moltzen. Goals: Miller (1).
CANTERBURY-BANKSTOWN BULLDOGS 16. Tries: Pritchard, Barba, Morris. Goals: Turner (2).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 19,252.

A simple case of the big fish that got away.
If the scoreboard didn't lie, no one would believe you for a minute.
Or it could be that the Swans broke the golden rule regarding never looking a fish in the eye as you reel it in and are about to land it.
To lead by a point, twice, in the final quarter only to see the quarry jump off the hook at the very last moment.
Spooked by the weird gaze, perhaps?
Doesn't it give you the complete and utter shits when your team kicks more goals than the other mob, and still gets beat?
Aaargh.
Gallant in defeat might be all well and good, but the game was there for the taking, booting six goals to four in the championship quarter, along with the irony of the Pies kicking 21 behinds!
You'd dearly hope there was a Road to Damascas moment in it all for Mr Ed in his first year in the head coaching caper.
Horse worked out early on that the only way to beat Collingwood was to man up and tag them to the point of very distracting annoyance, and when the opportunity arose, create the odd loose man in front of goal and just drive the ball straight down the middle.
Realised kicking to the wings or flanks was certain death against Collingwood.
While the Swans might have missed a hundred tackles, they were like terriers at the heels and trouser cuffs of the opposition, and that'll eventually test anyone's patience.
Oddhead McVeigh's miracle goal from 70m out that bounced along the ground for the last 20m on the wobble, and then veered a little right to roll through the middle of the big sticks without a hand being laid on it had gold plated luck written all over it.
In the denoument it came down to the roll of the dice.
Seabs had a great game in the ruck, for mine, monstering anyone they put on him; ironically that filthy turncoat Jolly couldn't turn out for the Maggies for what would've been a tip top match up.
Usually find there's not much need to comment on the opposition, or how they go, given they can do it just as well themselves, but the conundrum for any team playing the Woods is their top players of the ilk of Swan, Cloke, Pendlebury, Thomas, Maxwell, you name 'em, just make it all look so easy, as if there is no obvious effort required to pull off brilliant play time and time again.
That's difficult to coach against.
Veterans like Rhino and Old Jude are playing out of their ancient skins at present, while youngsters of the likes of the Haneberry Kiddie, along with Young Smiffy, are more than holding their own against better experienced company.
The mix is getting right but the only problem is that it's yet another loss at home, and Sydney are only travelling alright on their away record.
Go figure?
The big issue now is Adelaide and Gold Coast to come - dead set easy beats all year - if they lose to either of them, who will no doubt be looking for a cheap random scalp, fandom will start to get nervous.

SYDNEY: 4.3, 5.5, 11.6, 14.9 (93). Goals: McVeigh 4, Goodes 3, Bolton 2, O'Keefe 2, White, Jack, Mattner,
COLLINGWOOD: 5.5, 7.10, 11.15, 13.21 (99). Goals: Cloke 6, Blair 2, Swan, Sidebottom, Dawes, Pendlebury, Wellingham.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 38,053.

"go back to Mexico, ya mongrels"

2011-06-22T17:52:00.000-07:00

Disappointees,

Did like the bloke standing next to me overlooking the 20 metre line at the Swimming Pool End, he might have been 11 years old, 12 if he was pushing it, decked out in the complete Storm kit, clenching his fists and barracking strongly whenever the Melbourne fowards took it up.
He was a mere slip of a lad, and he appeared to have a father with him who by what he was saying had seen a few rugby league matches in his time, but didn't have his heart in this one, and kept apologising for the fact that his boy had somehow inexplicably become a Melbourne supporter.
The kid was beaming at the end of the game, naturally.
A woman stood behind me holding a copy of the Sunday Telegraph up to her face to read, so she had no chance of catching even a glimpse of the game.
Thinking she might have been making a pointed statetment to the bloke she was with; something along the lines of "not interested".
Just like days of yore, when Balmain played every home game at Leichhardt, we wanded in from the Orange Grove for the second time in a fortnight, and found the Spiritual Home all but packed.
By the time we had found our standing room, they'd hung the 'full house' shingle outside the ground, with hundreds being turned away for just being too late.
So, the ground was dripping with atmosphere.
The Balmain forwards matched Melbourne man-for-man in defence, but didn't have their usual cut and thrust in attack, while the backs seemed disorganised as the halves struggled to find any rythmn, with the Great Benji and The Best Leb In The Game both having quiet games.
Marshall really only had one good moment when he threw a Hail Mary miracle pass, cutting out four players across the back and finding his right winger unmarked, allowing Be My Beau Ryan to score what turned out to be the home side's only try of the match.
When Benji limped off with what appeared to be a bit of a knee with about ten minutes left, all hope was lost.
No one remotely looked like scoring in the second half in a dead set checkmate stalemate as Melbourne strangled the living daylights out of the game with the full sanction of the referees.
Go figure.
The Storm came to play, no doubt about that, but also implemented some below the belt tactics and downright dirty play - an audacious thing to do at Leichhardt, where the crowd can get volatile - in a bid to slow down the play-the-ball to a crawl, which they did very effectively.
Some shady character by the name of Sika Manu dropped his knees in a tackle on That Pom Ellis early in piece, provoking outrage on the hill, and yet, even though it was right there in full view as plain as the light of day, the Bamfords missed it and he got away with it scott free, when he should have been sent off.
Back in the day, dropping the knees was up there with tripping, the spear tackle, the swinging arm head high tackle, biting and eye gouging as the send off offences.
Not anymore in the modern game it seems.
Late in the match, the same bloke collared the Balmain fullback in a clothesline tackle around the neck, then tips him up and violently back slams him into the turf, before sitting his broad buttocks on the bloke's chest and head!
Three infringements in one.
At least the Bamford gave him and his captain a right lecture and put him in the report book, but what then happened down at the tribunal?
No action was taken over the last tackle, and yet he was done for the kneeing, but let off with a reprimand on account he didn't have enough penalty points for even a one week suspension.
Let's be blunt here; weak as piss.
Joisus wept.
Did like Farah dropping his bundle on interview after the game when questioned about the Melbourne style of play.
''They f---ing do it all the time, they do it all the time, and they just get away with it,''
While you don't get to the top of the table being nice guys, there's no room for filth in the game for mine.
Someone should remind the Storm players that rugby league is a thug's game played by gentlemen, while rugby union is a gentleman's game played by thugs.
They should switch codes.
But, a sense of honour seems to have gone out of the thingy since it became a multi-million dollar business.
SC Sheens declined to comment on the Bamford's performance or the opposition.
Rather would have said nothing, but did mention something about the Tigers being consistently inconsistent.
While the Tigers hung onto 6th place on the ladder by the skin of their teeth, there's a log jam behind them, and the top five have opened up a huge six point gap on the rest, and will be very hard to dislodge from here.
The Club Secretary doesn't need to get the abacus out to calculate that Balmain now find the best they can hope for is to fight it out with six teams for the last three places in the top eight.
Wandered out of the ground kicking empty beer cans along the ground, and found the need to strain the potatoes in the heritage-listed Gents on the side of the hill.
Found ZZ Top in there [he's more often seen at Cambelltown].
Full-beard down to his waist, major league mullet, dressed in the full Western Suburbs Magpies gear from the 80's teamed with carved cowboy boots, smoking at the urinal with his beer perched precariously on the porcelain.
Perhaps he was the bloke with the booming voice who after the match gave the Storm players a choice send off as they made an undignified exit up the tunnel...
"Go back to Mexico, ya mongrels".

WESTS TIGERS 4. Tries: Ryan.
MELBOURNE STORM 12. Tries: Proctor, Hinchcliffe. Goals: Smith (1), Duffie (1).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 20,486.

Swans, what Swans?
Never saw a frame of this game as it was played simultaneously with the time we spent at the Spiritual Home on a Sunday afternoon.
On returning home found the bush telegaph in the corner of the loungeroom had chattered into life and transmitted the scorebox from Docklands.
Tore off the tape and read the score, and so wasn't even remotely interested in viewing even the highlights reel on the crystal bucket news of the Swans being eaten alive like kippers for breakfast.
The fishwraps variously described the Sydney effort as "terrible" or "dreadful".
The bald facts show they were the best part of ten goals in arrears at three quarter time, after for the second week running, failing to kick a single goal in the Championship Quarter, and in this instance having six unanswered goals kicked on them.
That'd be something that'd have Coach Horse stratching his head.
Never going to challenge the top four with that kind of nonsense.
In fact, the StatsGuru gave me a ring on Monday morning and said all of Sydney's four losses this year have come against the teams that are currently in the top four, including being beaten by Carlton twice already, and they've got Collingwood coming off the bye this week.
He concluded his remarks by saying "fancy that?".
Yet another thing for Mr Ed to ponder as he thinks about sending the entire team down to the Room Full Of Mirrors on the Balmain Rd for a session of having a good look at themselves.
Can, and must, do better, even if they appear on the face of it to be still be travelling alright, only a win or two to make the top five.
The Pies would be a highly unlikely starting point, but everyone knows as you go into the back end of a season the game becomes a different bottle of mussels altogether, when form becomes important and class becomes paramount.
Grundy, Bird, Johnson, Kennedy, O'Keefe were listed as "Best:" in the scorebox.
Got no idea, of course.
You be the judge.

CARLTON: 4.2, 7.4, 13.8, 15.10 (100). Goals: Kreuzer 2, Murphy 2, Garlett 2, Walker 2, Ellard 2, Robinson, Henderson, Judd, Yarran, Gibbs.
SYDNEY: 3.1, 4.3, 4.4, 10.6 (66). Goals: Goodes 2, Jack 2, Bird, Malceski, Shaw, Bolton, Jetta, McGlynn.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 42,788.

ancient calderas and kippers for breakfast

2011-06-15T18:09:00.001-07:00

Weathermen,

If you thought last week was beyond belief, think again.
It does happen, but it's not often both your football teams win under extraordinary circumstances in the same weekend, let alone for two weeks running.

The day dawned miserable.
Bitterly cold with an antarctic gale ripping through the Emerald City with heavy showers sweeping about to boot.
Nothing could coax me out of a warm lounge room equipped with a crystal bucket, a bush telegraph and an en suite wine rack.
Never mind even thinking about going to the ground.
Had a cursory look at the weather vane out the kitchen window and thought "there's a four to five goal breeze there".
But at half time realised that that was back in the day, and in the modern game is probably now called a "14 behinds wind".
Let's just look at the Bare Facts:
Swans managed to kick 14 behinds to half time, then contrived to boot 21 behinds in the game, no goals whatsoever in the Championship quarter, and still went on to win by ten points.
Lord Crikey!
Go figure.
If ever there was an undeserving win against an opposition side who struggled under the damp conditions all day - that was surely it.
Seasoned observers who actually made it to the ground described it as being 'spongey' underfoot, but the main problem was that the breeze died away a bit and then picked up to gale force again by quarter time and blew like joisus throughout to the final siren.
Under the cirumstances, they said a beanie helped, but not as much as a little OP rum in the hip flask that always proves to be a welcome panacea to ward off the shivering.
They blamed the appalling inaccuracy on the Swans complete inabilty to cope with the wicked wind.
And then forgave them, given its not something that you can generally train for.
The Haneberry Kiddie might have got in under the radar to be best on ground, and is developing into a first class footballer, by all accounts
Ever since he first stepped out onto the big boy's park last year, he's looked the goods.
All the skills, with the right attitude.
Although, you get the feeling that he'll have to go to a high profile Melbourne club on big money in couple of years when his contract runs out if he wants to become a superstar.
The Great Seabs would have picked up the three Brownlow points [Bamfords are easily impressed by big men doing good] despite not being able to make the first grade team until Mummy did himself a mischief.
As it happens, he's not played much football of any consequence for fully the last three years, and yet is a premiership winning ruckman.
A bit crocky and playing second fiddle at the Swans, he's highly likely to end his playing days on a meagre disappointing pension at the Greater Western Pygmies
Mr Ed the Talking Horse, with three wins on the trot under the belt would be thinking the Swans really need to put together a purple patch right now, by beating a couple of very good teams away and home, to propel themselves into the top four, or risk dropping out of the eight altogether.
He'd also be thinking that on the strength of that showing and the kind of yips displayed in front of goal, Sydney will be eaten alive like kippers on well-buttered brown toast with a twist of lemon for breakfast by the likes of Carlton and Collingwood in the next fortnight.
The Queen's Birthday Holiday Monday smoko down at the Magic Waters would have been a wake up call; brisk in the pool with a whistling biting southerly coming in clean over the top of Mt Kosciuszko, not easy to light the pipe, with a fair bit of pondering to do.
Tends to concentrate the mind.
Crunch time.

SYDNEY: 3.8, 5.14, 5.19, 9.21 (75). Goals: Reid 2, Jetta 2, Dennis-Lane, Malceski, Roberts-Thomson, O'Keefe, Kennedy.
RICHMOND: 2.3, 4.7, 6.7, 9.11 (65). Goals: Riewoldt 2, Vickery 2, Martin 2, Nahas, Deledio, Browne.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 23,782.

It was a touch ironic that the Mighty Tiges found themselves playing in an old volcano in Auckland, when they very nearly didn't get there due to the volcanic ash thingy drifting in from Chile.
Auckland is dotted with ancient dormant calderas, and they sunk Mt Smart Stadium into one of them on account of it's a near perfect natural amphitheatre; Kiwis - nothing if not practical.
Let's just look at the Bare Facts:
Balmain came back from being 4-22 down early in the second half, to win the match 26-22.
Lord Crikey!
Go figure.
The return from injury of That Pom Ellis over the last couple of weeks tells you how much extra starch he adds to the Balmain pack.
Tough and uncompromising are two words that come to mind.
Worth his weight in gold, which come to think of it, is probably more or less exactly what he would be paid over the course of his recently re-negotiated three-year contract.
Brilliant!
It did look like the Tiges might outlast the Worriers in match fitness at the denoument; history show those big bastard Brown Brothers in the pack might be able to bust you wide open in the early stages but are easily pooped once you put the work into them.
It was the forwards who manned up after Balmain appeared utterly gorn for all money early in the second half and won the field position that enabled the backs to just over-run the Worriers with three unexpected tries in the last ten minutes to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.
The Marshall/Lui/Farah show had touches of brilliance - enough for two tries to the main man - but that bludnut Keith 'Keefy' Galloway was close to best on field for mine, with some damaging runs through the mid field to make critical attacking yards and create the all important room for the halves and three quarters to dance their way to the try line.
Never did bother to look up what SC Sheens had to say about it in the Monday morning fishwraps on account of it would have been very little.
He probably would have left it at "pretty good effort at the end".
Did like the very finish of the match with only a few seconds on the clock.
The Great Benji found himself in possession on the last tackle, and instead of booting it deep with a downtowner over the heads of the Worriers players, he instead gave it to himself with a little tap kick, then promptly turned around on his heels and ran backwards for 40 metres, carrying the ball over the Worriers dead ball line like some kind of demented chook just as the final siren sounded, then threw the ball high in the air in triumph.
Certainly, an unsual way to end a match, but the Kiwis saw it as akin to underarm bowling and rushed in from everywhere and tried to put on an all-in stink; threw a few punches only to be met with don't argues, before the Bamfords stepped in and reminded them that there was nothing wrong with it and they had in fact lost the match.
Game over.

NEW ZEALAND WARRIORS 22. Tries: Vatuvei (2), Inu, Locke, Johnson. Goals: Maloney (1).
WESTS TIGERS 26. Tries: Marshall (2), McKinnon, Ryan, Ayshford. Goals: Marshall (3).
At Mt Smart Stadium.
Crowd: 15,889.

beyond belief

2011-06-07T06:20:00.000-07:00

Frequented the Front Bar at The Local on Saturday afteroon for a quick snifter and to see who was betting on what and why, and so on and so forth.
The Brown Brothers were in, in force, boisterously warming up for the NZ Worriers early evening game in the league.
They needn't have bothered, and would have been upset at the end of the day that they had wasted their time.
Stumbled across The Philosopher in his usual corner looking a touch melancholy and nursing this week's favoured tipple, a double brandy, lime & soda.
He wasn't much in the mood for conversation, witty banter or small talk, as usual.
Until the idea was put to him that the away game at the Gabba was a tip top opportunity for the Swans to at last put away a lowly ranked team early in proceedings, unlike some other heart-stopping affairs this year.
The Philosopher just said "if they don't, I'm going to have a coronary".
And left it at that.
And lets face it, who could have even remotely forseen the Swans leading by eleven, yes, that's right, eleven freaking goals at half-time?!
Or that the Unliest Man In Football [who is currently affecting some kind of primitive caveman look with the full beard], would be pushed forward by Mr Ed from the off and end up being the leading goal kicker out of 12, with three maximums.
The various bookmakers who offer the now apparently shunned and distasteful exotic odds would have been quite happy that the absolute long shot got up.
It seems Roberts-Thomson, who's played his entire career at full back, didn't mind being sent forward for a change, and showed just why he is a very good all around footballer, who adds considerable starch to the line-up.
Never mind the looks; has all the skills.
Few theories have been advanced as to why teams, from time to time, don't turn up to play at home.
The Brisbane Bears being a prime example in this instance.
Most coaches consider it inexplicable.
It's difficult to fathom why a side that's been travelling reasonably well in recent weeks, suddenly finds itself being absolutely monstered at the hands of the visitors.
Swans never led by less than ten goals at any stage after half time.
While the win might have been overwhelmingly convincing, it's one of those games that not much can be learnt from; no moral victory or anything remotely like it - just a ten goal football lesson, "a clinic".
You would have thought supporters of both sides would have left the ground shaking their heads and ascribing it to "just one of those things".
Coach Horse at least could have had a bex and a cup of tea at half time, then a good lie down, knowing the thing was already in the dilly bag, opting as he did to just leave it up to the players to sort it out amongst themselves from there on in.
The 'Best:' line in the scorebox in the Sunday morning fishwraps for the Swans should have just read "All played well".
Bolton, J. is performing his way into Brownlow contention of late, while Odd Head McVeigh had an oustanding game, for mine.
The Hannebery Kiddie had his best outing in weeks, while that old Crows discard Marty Mattner appeared to close down the Brisbane forward line almost single handedly, and then kick some goals at the other end on a whim!
Could have been best on ground.
Dennis-Lane proved to be the serious young insect who did really well roving the ball on the ground, while The Bird flew the coop - never marked/manned up by the opposition all night - and was prominent among the Swans 'loose men everywhere'.
The Goodes Train decided under the circumstances that he didn't need to do anyting more than put in a tradesman like performance and save his aging legs, and did rather well at that.
The season reaches the half way point this weekend, and 5th is not a bad place to be, given the top two are runaways.
The Stats Guru points out that a cursory glance at the run to the flag reveals the Swans [with a perfect away record so far] play five teams also in the current top 8, seven teams outside the 8, plus another bye.
He reckons, on paper, that's a bit better than half a chance of finishing in the top four.
But they really need to string together a purple patch in the next few weeks to be considered genuine contenders.

BRISBANE: 1.0, 2.2, 5.8, 7.9 (51). Goals: Retzlaff 2, Banfield 2, Brown, Clark, Black.
SYDNEY: 6.7, 13.8, 15.9, 17.14 (116). Goals: Roberts-Thomson 3, Goodes 2, McGlynn 2, Mattner 2, Johnson, Bird, Kennedy, McVeigh, Seaby, O’Keefe, Reid, Dennis-Lane.
At Brisbane Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 22,150.

Dropped into the old Orange Grove Hotel on my way to the Spiritual Home on a crystal clear, crisp, Monday evening in the Emerald City just to confirm that they really had ruined it with one of those McPub makeovers/cheap 'renovations' that publicans can buy off the plan.
Such a shame that the fireplace in the original front bar that used to burn top quality old growth forest hardwood for the comfort of patrons in winter has been boarded up.
The Grove used to be a you beaut pit-stop when we walked to the ground from our place in Rozelle all those years ago, but it's not the same, even though the barmaids were wearing cute little Tiger's ears.
Oh well, at least it's not a block of flats...for now.
Found a good standing room only spot in front the grand stand at the swimming pool end, with a perfect view of the Tigers running that way in the second half.
However, it all ended up being rather disappointing in almost every aspect -- the long and the short of it was that Balmain played poorly.
Marshall and Farah did nothing and were missing in action, depriving the side of any attacking spark, while the engine room failed to get going at any stage; hampered by the most spastic refereeing seen at the ground in a long time [and that's saying something].
The filthy Knights played offside all night, continually infringing the 10 metre rule at the play-the-ball, and were then guilty of lying all over the tackled player, so the Tigers forwards couldn't get any go-forward momentum to speak of.
The Bamfords eventually, very late in the game, warned the Newcastle captain that the next player to break either rule would be sent to the sin bin; of course they then stopped doing it, but the damage had already been well and truly done by then.
Why the Bamfords didn't issue the warning from the outset and get control of the game is beyond belief
A case in point of the Bamfords being hell bent on robbing the home side blind was the Knight's second 'try' to level up the half-time score at 10-10.
It must go down in the record books as the joke try of the year.
Saw it with my own eyes as it happpened right in front of me.
The ball clearly went out after landing on the dead ball line - everyone in that corner of the ground obviously thought so, as did the the players, who stopped playing - the pill then miraculously somehow boomeranged back into the in-goal and the Knights player who was scrambling back to try to have a dab at it managed to get one finger on the ball, but at no stage whatsoever was any downward pressure exerted on the pigskin.
All as plain as day viewed in real time in 3D with the naked eye, and yet the mongs in the video referee's box ruled it as a try.
The TV bamfords were fooled by the phenomenon known as parallax error and the fact that television lies - all the time.
Could go on about it, but won't.
As you might have guessed, it's something that gives me, and everyone else for that matter, the complete shits.
The crowd went absolutely ballistic and punters were throwing their hats to the ground in disgust, but realised there was no point in arguing with them as Bamfords only very rarely change their decisions; abuse is much better.
Little wonder the umpires quickly scuttled off the ground like some kind of vermin at full time, under police escort.
Bad luck didn't help either.
Lote "Wot'd I do, Guv?" Tuqiri lasted all of six minutes in his first game back after seven weeks on the sidelines with a broken arm before being taken off after doing an ankle and never returned.
A season cursed.
Then late in the game, the Knights filthiest player, Uate, upended some Tigers youngster in a blatant spear tackle, and wasn't sent off by the Bamfords, as he should have been.
Then he gets a weak-as reprimand down at the judiciary, when he should have been rubbed out for two weeks by rights, on account of his 'good record'.
Go on, tickle my arse with a feather.
Lord, help us
After all that, SC Sheens would have pulled the last tuft of hair out of his head and presented it in a very small glass case to the club museum.
A collective sigh of relief went through the crowd as the full-time hooter blew at 16-16, but just found myself regretting the bad mistake of leaving the heart pills at home.
All was forgiven as extra time turned into an elaborate game of chess, and The Best Leb In The Game potted the field goal early in the tackle count when the Knights were not expecting it, with two minutes left on the clock.
No other football ground in the world makes that kind of noise with a full house in, when the match-winner sails over the black dot.
The Touch Judges put their flags up, and Bob's yr uncle.
The Good Lady Wife got a little carried away and was high-fiving complete strangers, so had no choice but to join in.
Gawd crikey.
Not a good look.

WESTS TIGERS 17. Tries: Fulton, Brown, Lui. Goals: Marshall (2). Field Goals: Farah (1).
NEWCASTLE KNIGHTS 16. Tries: McManus, Costigan, Kaufus. Goals: Gidley (2).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 18,021.

Cardiac Kids at it again

2011-06-01T21:20:00.000-07:00

Art Critics,

Just returned from a few days in Hobart taking in the Museum of Old and New Art [which, by the way, is an incredible mind-fooking knock-yr-socks off blown away experience, with tens of millions of bucks in bells and whistles. Absolutely extraordinary. Never seen anything like it. Something everyone should make an effort to have a gander at once in their lives.]
Over the weekend, it was clear Hobartians don't give a rat's about the Swans, let alone the rugby league, so nothing more to offer than you have already read in the fishwraps.
Scoreboxes posted for the record:

Tigers cruelled by a slow start, but gallant in defeat against clearly the best team in the comp, by all accounts.

ST GEORGE ILLAWARRA DRAGONS 24. Tries: Cooper, Gasnier, Morris, Nightingale, Merrin. Goals: Soward (2).
WESTS TIGERS 18. Tries: Utai, Moltzen, Fifita. Goals: Marshall (3).
At Jubilee Oval, Kogarah.
Crowd: 19,892.

Looks like the Cardiac Kids were up to their usual tricks.

NORTH MELBOURNE: 3.4, 5.10, 7.13, 9.17 (71). Goals: Petrie 3, Thompson 2, Edwards 2, Macmillan, Wells.
SYDNEY: 1.4, 5.8, 8.11, 10.12 (72). Goals: McGlynn 3, Goodes 2, McVeigh, Reid, Roberts-Thomson, Johnston, Seaby.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 24,267.

"grow up, and wake up"

2011-05-24T04:40:00.000-07:00

Long sufferers,

The day did not begin well.
No sooner than we had settled into our free seats [courtesy of the Twisted Darkie, thanks Christopher] in the MA Noble Stand concourse, than the Good Lady Wife offered me a half eaten pie to finish off.
Only succeeded in squeezing the remaining contents out of the Four'n'Twenty directly into my freshly poured cold beer that hadn't had a sip taken out of it, so the bits of texturised protein sank to the bottom of the cup, adding a unique gravy flavour to an already rather ordinary ale.
It all went downhill from there
The first half was dire; about as dire as a game of modern day Rules can get.
Four goals each to the long break, with the Swans entirely goaless in the second quarter.
Joisus.
With stacks on the mill de rigueur and the ball on the ground most of the time, Mr Nallatamby likened it to a giant game of Twister with 36 contestants involved.
It was that interesting and absorbing that punters in the bleachers resorted to reading their Sunday newspapers, chatting to each other about what they had for breakfast, and where, and talking loudly about the brilliant new 'small bar' in the eastern suburbs they discovered this week.
That sort of batshit boring display that will no doubt attract devotees of the other football codes across to the great Australian game in droves - not.
Wouldn't want to be the bloke in charge of selling that to the Great Unwashed of Greater Western Sydney as an example of what they will be getting for their money next year.
It only got worse.
When you can't even get close to kicking ten goals in a match on your home ground, something has to be seriously wrong you would have thought.
Never mind that Buddy Franklin ran rings around them and kicked six goals to single handedly win the game and was a loose man more often than not, for gawd's sake, or that the Swans suffered a complete reversal on last week and had seven goals kicked on them in the Championship Quarter this week.
Crikey.
Swans backs looked like headless chooks, while the forwards did nothing.
The ruck was inneffective, and the mid-field clueless as they were pinned down by simple manning up by the Hawks to a positional play plan.
Two free kicks right in front of us towards the end of the third quarter gifted the Hawks easy gimmee goals; the second of which had the crowd going absolutely apeshit all around us as The Goodes Train was penalised for doing absolutely nothing at all.
The vehmency suprised me; something rarely witnessed at a Swans game, where the barracking is usually polite and reserved in comparison to what goes on down Mexico way.
Needless to say, all in our party needed no persausion to join in - on my feet screaming and gesticulating like some kind of Whirling Dervish.
Some mong Bamford by the name of Jacob Mollison, who looked like a prancing weed, was responsible for awarding both joke frees, and didn't he cop a bollocking?
The home crowd just thankful that "Be Kind to Umpires" week, was last week.
So, the Swans robbed blind in the back half of the Championship Quarter, never mind that they were being comprehensively outplayed and were simply outclassed at the time, it still ruined any slim chance they might have had of getting back into the game.
The Miracle Man Malceski in his first game back 74 days after radical controversial knee surgery, when he should have been out for the season, was probably the best of a bad bunch, but you'd have to wonder what the likes of him and other tough nuts like the Great Irishman, Bolton, J. et al were thinking while they were winning the hard ball, only to see any opportunity frittered away by inexperienced children who found themselves out of their depth.
The game was done and dusted by the three quarter time siren, and patrons went back to reading their newspapers in the break before flocking in large numbers to the bars to drown their sorrows, with many, many thousands of others simply streaming out of the ground altogther as fast as they could.
At least this time they didn't have to cook the turnstile books as the place was fairly full from the off
But, by the final hooter the ground only held the long suffering faithful few to see the Swans make a hurried hanging-their-heads disappearance from the playing arena.
Hawthorn had a big cheer squad and a well populated supporters bay, and of course, they delighted in rubbing it in.
Swear blind after the debacle was all over and we made our dejected way out the Member's Gate to the event bus station in Moore Park that we saw a man with a guide dog in the queue for the Circular Quay bus.
Why on earth would a blind man want to go to the football, unless, as the GLW remarked, he was a member of the Bamfords Appreciation Society, or it was some kind of sick publicity stunt on behalf of the umpire's sponsors, OPSM?
Coach Horse would have had a lot of steam coming out of his ears down by the Magic Waters at Bronte at Monday morning smoko, finding himself with plenty running through his mind as he ponders the mid-season crossroads.

SYDNEY: 4.1, 4.4, 6.8, 8.12 (60). Goals: McGlynn 3, Everitt, McVeigh, Jetta, Malceski, Shaw.
HAWTHORN: 3.2, 4.8, 11.14, 15.16 (106). Goals: Franklin 6, Hodge 2, Bateman, Rioli, Roughead, Breust, Shiels, Osborne, Burgoyne.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 33,136.

Tigers fans were happy enough to take the get out of jail free card and the two points in one of the worst matches played by any two teams this year.
Both sides made unforced error after unforced error and at times you could be forgiven for thinking you were watching a game of under-12's.
Ball skills had the appearance of players who had spent the week at the pub.
Didn't help that the Bamford's were whistle-happy - giving away penalties with gay abandon.
It was only a freak touch of Marshall magic at the denoument that got them home by the skin of their very teeth.
The Best Leb In The Game single handedly kept the whole shebang together with not much help from anyone, in a game Balmain richly deserved to lose.
For a coach who is usually of unflappable demeanour, SC Sheens reportedly gave the team an almighty post match dressing room spray, after commanding them all to stand to attention and listen very carefully to what he had to say.
He then gave them both barrels on interview on his way to the car park, describing his charges as "stupid" and "embarrassing", and you could tell by the tenor of his voice that he dearly wanted to call someone, anyone, an "idiot".
Sensibly, he left it at the throw away line "they've got to grow up, and wake up, and that starts this week".
"If we play like that again, St George will lap us by 100".
Enuff said.

WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Ayshford, Brown, Dwyer, Marshall. Goals: Marshall (2).
PENRITH PANTHERS 18. Tries: Coote, Iosefa, Simmons. Goals: Walsh (3).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 16,172.

Footnote.
Does anyone else in the known universe hold a Pie Floater Party on the opening night of State of Origin?
No idea how a very odd South Australian institution was carried with me and transplanted smack bang in the middle of uncouth rugby league territory, and came to be cooked anuually to mark the start of the centrepiece of the heathen caper.
It's a tradition in my household that dates back at least 20 years; certainly to the time when King Wally Lewis reigned supreme and Balmain players of the ilk of Sirro, Blocker, Back Door Benny, and the indefatigable Wayne Junior Pearce were regularly picked for New South Wales.
My children have known nothing else around about the last Wednesday in May, and they now insist that the floater must be prepared for the state-on-state mate-on-mate pipe opener, while acknowleging, as they do, that Dad has willingly made a rod for his own back.
Two days of laborious work is involved in making the proper pea soup; the endless boiling and skimming of the smoked ham hocks with a poultice of onions, some garlic and celery stalks, perhaps a carrot for sweetness, a few bay leaves with a large bunch of parsley from the garden, and a goodly dose of freshly pounded black pepper and 'secret spices', before the fatty skin is stripped from the hocks, the bones removed, and the split peas are added on the second day to boil away to a mush, then the whole being put through the blender to make a homogenous mix, before being boiled and cooked some more, then seasoned to taste.
The simmering soup is ladled steaming into shallow bowls, and topped i.e. "floated" with a piping hot meat pie out of the oven, [no need for gourmet here, frozen Four'n'Twenty's from the supermarket will do], then dressed in the best white wine vinegar, or for the effete, the finest Spanish sherry, along with lashings of Rosella, and it must be Rosella brand tomato sauce.
Nothing else is required.
However gruesome it looks, the result is a very tasty bolt indeed that lines the stomach nicely for an evening of convivial drinking while watching Good v Evil play out the contest to the death.
The traditional drinking accompaniment to the floater is Coopers Sparkling Ale, although in recent years, as the nostalgaista begin to grow old, a full-bodied meaty Cab Sav Shiraz has become an acceptable tipple.
A once a year novelty that's yet to wear off.

paper tigers

2011-05-19T19:26:00.000-07:00

Denizens of The Outer,

The general consensus of opinion in the Front Bar down at The Local last Friday afternoon was that Sydney would give Port Adelaide a ten goal football lesson, given how good the Power have been going lately [one win out of eight, including the first ever loss to the Gold Coast] and therefore, by definition, wasn't worth watching.
Felt inclined to take a different view; watching your team hand out a rare right thrashing to any side can be the source of some satisfaction for a loyalist.
And so, the lesson was duly delivered.
Coach Horse should mull over and pay particular attention to the seven goal championship quarter.
If they could do that every week they'd be hoisting the flag at the end of the season!
In reality tho', it's was a hard, grinding, ugly kind of game, with few opportunities.
No less than 12 goal scorers shows the Swans haven't had a genuine full forward since BBB Hall was banished....
Pleasing to see the Ugliest Man In Football, Lewis Roberts-Thomson, back in the fray.
After being wracked with injury, LRT hasn't played for quite a while, but is still all arms and legs, and remains capable of frightening small children without doing anything at all.
For the second week in a row there was a clear Best On Ground, J.Bolton just dominated his patch, and dictated terms - not that he had much opposition to deal with.
Rhino and the Goodes Train continue to play very well indeed, and Coach Horse would be well aware of the need to have those two continuing to produce in a winning team.
Reg Grundy and Rick Shaw are developing as hard men, capable of a bit of flair when required.
But in the grand scheme of things, not much can be learnt from a match of little, or no consequence.
Perhaps the blokes in the Front Bar were right after all.

SYDNEY: 3.5, 5.6, 12.11, 18.13 (121). Goals: Reid 3, Everitt 2, Goodes 2, Hannebery 2, Kennedy 2, McGlynn, Bird, Bolton, McVeigh, Jetta, Roberts-Thomson, Smith.
PORT ADELAIDE: 3.2, 4.3, 8.5, 9.5 (59). Goals: Motlop 2, Schulz 2, Thomas, Phillips, Boak, Chaplin, Logan.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd 20,719.

Didn't see a frame of the Tigers match as it was played simultaneously with the Swans game - and a good thing too.
At 27-0 down at half time, probably would have done an Elvis, got out the Glock, and started shooting up the television.
Inexplicable that they just didn't turn up to play; defies reasonable explanation.
Although he wasn't particularly to blame, The Great Heighington took the fall on behalf of the team and made the public apology, describing the first half as worst defensive display that he'd been involved in in his entire nine years at the club, and then said sorry.
Everyone else was too shy to appear in public after that dismal effort.
Deary, deary me.
SC Sheens, at least, concurred with Heighington's assessment in these terms "for a team that has aspirations of actually doing something this season, that was pretty poor" and then, for good measure, went on to state the obvious "if you don't go in and you don't hit with your shoulder, and you don't knock your opponents down in the ruck, you're going to get rolled by their speed in the middle".
My friend the StatsGuru has made an interesting observation.
He reckons that the Paper Tigers haven't beaten anyone of note this year.
Quite right too.
Approaching the half way mark in the season, as Balmain cling for dear life onto No.8 spot on the ladder only on percentage with a log jam of teams in front and behind them, they've only beaten one team above them on the table this year, and that's the Worriers, who are currently in 6th.
And the draw just gets more difficult as the season wears on.
Yet to play four out of the current top five, including St George-Illawarra, twice.
Crikey!
No shadow of a doubt that a large part of training this week would have been a couple of long sessions in the Room Full Of Mirrors down on the Balmain Road so they could have a good hard look at themselves, with the words from the people in the bleachers "can, and must, do better" ringing in their ears.
On the sunny side, there are some good milestones at Leichhardt this year with the Best Leb In The Game having just played his 150th for the club, and the Great Benji about to do so, and then there's the news that the Great Liam Fulton will turn out for his 100th appearance for the Tigers this weekend, having debuted in 1993.
Spent a lot of time in Sick Bay over the years, a year in exile in the dark satanic mills of northern England through no fault of his own, Fulton is among the last of the classic forwards who is picked week in, week out on the "never played a bad game" principle.
Just gets on with the job of making the hard yards and clocking blokes, left, right and centre.
He's a member of the Sensational Six - the remaining survivors from the Miracle of '05 who are still going around - thus earning the honorific "Great".
An unspectacular player by any measure but is a picture of tough reliable dependability, who has been known to score tries from set plays off the back of the ruck.
Despite having perhaps the most serious expression on his face of anyone on the field, he's also a supremely popular clubman off the field, being the team jester that he is.
By all reports, does a brilliant routine in impersonations, relishes ringing people up on the phone and pretending to be someone else, and loves nothing more than a well thought out perfectly executed practical joke.
Talk about larf!
A master of the jolly jape.
All power to his oars.

SOUTH SYDNEY RABBITOHS 29. Tries: Farrell, Merritt, Talanoa, Wesser. Goals: Sandow (6). Field Goals: Sandow (1).
WESTS TIGERS 18. Tries: Farah, Marshall, Utai. Goals: Marshall (3).
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 18,245.

a Bex, a cup of tea, and a good lie down.

2011-05-11T03:13:00.000-07:00

Tourists,

As the Good Lady Wife cranked up the motor to tackle The Deadly Hume, had a bad feeling in my water that proceeding to Canberra was 'a long way to go to lose'.
Still had the feeling right up to the final siren, and then experienced wonderful relief.
Now there's a good feeling.
Manuka Oval is little more than a suburban cricket/football ground with it's collection of higgeldy-piggeldly little stands; the Robert Menzies, the Don Bradman, and the Bob Hawke, teamed with the Jack Fingleton Scoreboard [relocated from the MCG in 1982].
The board wasn't exactly a hive of information, showing the score only on its vast expanse of possibilities.
Welcome to historic Makuka Oval, the sign said.
Not much historic about it that could be seen at first glance, apart from the fact that they first put a picket fence around the joint in 1929.
Marked out on Burley Griffen's gin-soaked plans.
The place is not without charm, to be sure.
Principally it's trees.
The place was planted with English Oaks, Elms and Cypress all around the wide outer perminter behind the stands and terraces from the moment the place was begun to be built, so in the summer at the cricket, people could circulate around the ground in comfort under generous shade.
They are very large specimens now, and in the winter the modern day OH&S people would be having a fit, with patrons a'slippin' and a'slidin' on the masses of dropped acorns that have been ineffectively broomed off the asphalt paths onto the massive roots of the 90 year old trees.
There wouldn't be many grounds in this country where flurries of autumn leaves in all those shades from red to yellow drift and float across the oval in a gentle breeze while the game is being played.
A few moments of surrealism could be had if you were that way inclined.
Had the feel of this strange game being set down in the English countryside.
They intend to spend millions on re-development in the short term to welcome the Western Sydney Pygmies next year; but you can't see that team pulling massive crowds, so why fix it if it's not broke?
The catering arrangements reminded me very much of Leichhardt Oval; another of the last civilised football grounds in the world.
The $5.50 Carlton Draught came in ice cold tins with no need for the useless silliness of a plastic cup.
No pouring means no queues, which is very much appreciated by the drinkers, as they don't have to miss much of the game standing in a beer line.
The full gamut of baked goods was on offer; sausage rolls, pasties, plain pies plus the added luxury of Meat & Mushroom pies, all out of the thermo-nuclear industrial-style pie warmer.
Add in the hot chips and you have all the food groups.
Brilliant!
Having a smoke was unneccesarily complicated in that you were supposed to get a pass out and exit the ground to a degrading penned off area on the footpath just outside.
The only problem with that was that you weren't allowed to take a drink out with you, and lets face it there is no point in having a ciggy at the footy unless you have your favoured tipple to hand.
So, the regulations were largely and sensibly ignorned as people just had a smoke underneath the oaks out the back of the stands, not bothering anyone or making a nuisance of themselves.
No one cared, least of all the security guards who were for the most part asleep in their deck chairs.
Being pushed around and told what to do in the name of officialdom while trying to have a good day out does tend to get on people's goat.
A line should be drawn in the sand of common sense, but oh, don't make me carry on like a pork chop.
One of the more interesting features at Manuka are the dressing rooms under the Menzies Stand with glass walls on two sides, affording the paying public a clear view of what's going on inside.
The 'Dogs taped up tarps around theirs, so they couldn't be seen, but the Swans didn't bother.
A large mob of female fans of footballing flesh gathered around the windows peering in [the GLW had pushed her way in to front and centre, needless to say]; there was much giggling and comments like: "oh my god, isn't he gorgeous?", "oooh, he's just so pretty", "aaw, he's always been my favourite"; you know the sort of thing.
However, on surveying the scene, one girl of about 10 y-o had a different, more prosaic view..."gee, Dad, they look like caged animals in there".
Perched ourselves in the 'cheap' seats in the little concourse in front of the Menzies Stand so the sun began to set behind our backs, two bays along from the Sydney bench.
Couldn't believe that the field glasses had been left at home or that it was my fault.
Manuka Oval is a huge ground - the playing arena at 179m x 150m being slightly bigger than the dimensions of the MCG!
With failing eyesight it's difficult from a low-raked elevation to make out the player's numbers plates on the other wing at well over a hundred yards away.
After the US Ambassador tossed the coin, things didn't auger well from the off, with the visitors making a litany of unforced errors as they adjusted to the paddock; caught short and overunning the ball - if you miss the pill on the ground here you will be punished.
Letting four goals to zip in, in the early part, wasn't what you'd call a promising start in what was always going to be a low scoring game, and they were lucky to get out of it just a goal behind at the first break.
My water wasn't feeling any better.
Nothing much at all happened in the second quarter as the game looked more and more like park football on a Saturday afternoon.
Sydney brained the homeside in the Championship Quarter and, it was, for all intents and purposes, game over on the wide open spaces - or should have been.
A strong Footscray comeback saw the fingernails bitten back to the cuticles, yet again, and the fat lady didn't sing until the final minutes.
The general consensus of opinion on the terraces after the last hooter viz-a-viz the Brownlow votes was 3. Rhino, 2. Train, 1. Teddy.
Rhino had a corker of a game after last week having a shocker being ground into the dust by Judd, and Teddy was as solid as a brick wall at full back, and even got away with a very heavy shirt front at the tribunal.
It was one of those days when The Goodes Train was on song, making the hardest ball game of all look like it was so easy.
Fleet of foot, as if his old legs had left him and didn't bother him anymore, dodged most tackles with a jink and a step, as would be tacklers were shrugged off or flicked away like annoying insects; took a couple of big hits but just got up and dusted himself off, kicked long, marked strong, booted a timely goal - but most impressively, had the ball on a string - all day.
Mummy might have got the last Brownlow point with a bustling display doing what he does best - throwing his weight aound, but made one too many mistakes for mine.
The odds before the game on Spida Jnr and the Canadian Mountie being the leading goal scorers would have been astronomical, surely?
Little surprise that innacuracy in front of the big sticks in the form of 13 behinds would be enough to bring home the bacon in the final paralysis.
As we left the ground found myself bursting into song among a group of Bulldogs supporters, bellowing out the old English soccer hymn...
"what's it like? what's it like? what's-it-like-to-lose-at home? What's it li-ie-ike to-oo loo-se at-home?"
Don't know what came over me.
Bulldogs people looked unimpressed, while a scattering of Swans fans were mildly bemused.
Although the Swans very rarely get thrashed, their inability to put sides away has been a problem since the Miracle Year of '05.
Sydney does know how to put unwarranted pressure on the aortic valve of long suffering supporters, for no good reason.
Mid-way through the final stanza, had this irresistable urge to rush down to the Swans merch van and grab a handful of them specially marked powerful heart pills with the Swans logo on them, but then thought there would be a long queue with the Cardiac Kids up to their usual tricks.
After it was all over, we were glad we'd booked a room in the Lakeside Hotel for a Bex, a cup of tea, and a good lie down.

WESTERN BULLDOGS: 4.1, 5.1, 6.3, 10.5 (65). Goals: Moles 2, Giansiracusa 2, Grant 2, Morris, Jones, Griffen, Murphy.
SYDNEY: 3.3, 5.6, 9.11, 10.13 (73). Goals: Everitt 2, Pyke 2, O'Keefe 2, Goodes, McVeigh, Gordon, Mumford.
At Manuka Oval, Canberra.
Crowd: 10,184.

WESTS TIGERS: Bye.

"over the moon"

2011-05-04T17:10:00.000-07:00

Lawbreakers,

We were hounded out of the top deck of the Brewongle Stand by the fun police at half time for the crime of minding our own business and not bothering anyone while smoking right next to the large "Thank You For Not Smoking" sign on the fire escape steps out the back of the stand in clear uncovered air overlooking Moore Park.
Wanted to say to the officious official that it never occured to me that any thanks would be coming my way, but then thought better of it.
Instead, we put our hands up and pleaded guilty.
We were then put in the hands of a nice female security guard who told us "you are in the wrong area for smoking".
After we readily agreed with her, she very politely herded us through a crowded bar to the service/cripples lift to go to ground level where the 'designated smoking area' is.
Ditched the cigarette as soon as we were busted, but still astonished that me mate ponced his way through the whole process with a lit scoob in his hand, having a sneaky toke here and there, or that it was still going when we got out of the lift on the ground floor.
Crikey!
After catching our breath, imagine our surprise then to find none other than SC Roos getting into the lift as we made our way back to our seats.
The conversation went something like this.
Us: "Oh. Hello, Coach. How ya goin'? Waddaya reckon about the game?"
SC Roos: " It's tight. I've got to get out. How do you get to the top deck? What level is it on?"
We shrugged our shoulders and looked at the lift buttons.
Us: "Looks like it might be level 5, boss, as level 6 appears to be occupied by Club SCG".
SC Roos pushed the five button and said "What is Club SCG?".
We shrugged our shoulders again.
After seeing three goals soccered off the ground in the first quarter, we had discussed the merits of putting in a goal keeper in the prevailing slippery and slightly boggy conditions, i.e. anchor the full back in the goal square and tell him to use his head, arms, and feet, as well as his hands, to deflect the incoming ball away from the big sticks at any cost.
We put the concept to him, but Roosey dismissed it out of hand:
SC Roos "Nah. They'll just pick it up and kick it over his head".
The lift doors opened on the next level and a flunkie of Indian extraction in a bow tie got in.
SC Roos repeated his question:
"What is Club SCG?"
Flunky: "It's a function room, sir, that's run by the Trustees".
Us: "So, it's something like the Chairman's Dining Room, is it?
Flunky: "Oh, no,no, no, sir! That's different room altogether!".
You wouldn't believe it unless you were there.
Here's a bloke who coached Sydney for how many years, who didn't know how to get to the top of the Brewongle Stand and was blissfuly unaware of the existence of Club SCG.
SC Roos got out of the lift and went and sat by himself, perched on a spare seat a few rows down from us, for the whole Championship Quarter, occasionally tapping text on his phone, looking nervous and intense.
He slumped further into his seat as the final quarter progessed and disappeared with about 15 minutes to go.
Didn't see him leave, as if he went up in a puff of smoke.
Through all that time, no-one spoke to him apart from us and the flunky, no-one asked for his autograph or to have a photo taken with him.
Suppose that once you have given the main game away, you pretty quickly go from rooster to feather duster.
Here's a living legend who, by and large, went unrecognised, forgotten, discarded.
Somebody to nobody.
He seemed fairly unperturbed that everyone's moved on.
The match itself wasn't of much consequence.
Dour wet weather football.
No goals at all kicked in the second quarter tells you what it was like.
In the end, it turned into The Eddie Betts Show, in a clever reply to In Like McGlynn's bag of goals.
Such a shame that the match was won and lost on the back of an entirely stupid dumb bastard idiot ridiculous decision on the part on the mongs purportedly running the game.
Lord, save us.
Swans pinged for an interchange infringement, with the Bamfords accusing them of having too many players on the ground, even though the Sydney bench staff were screaming at the Bamfords telling them they were actually one bloke short on the field and and had too many blokes on the bench!
Lord, save us.
The upshot being a 50m penalty for the Double Blues from the centre bounce, which at SCG means being gifted a goal, after it took the Bamford's an eon to make up their minds, killing any momentum the home side might have had.
Lord, save us.
Never mind that the Umpires were proved dead wrong on careful analysis; never mind the glib half hearted "apology" from the AFL for the "mistake"; it doesn't change the scoreboard, does it??
Lord, save us.
Could go on about it but won't.
Still, it's pretty hard to put up with culpable incompetance on the part of officialdom.
A pity that the Swans gave up after that, reasonably thinking they were shot birds under the circumstances.
Disappointing that they put their hands in the air in surrender, but who can blame them after that entirely unwarranted cruel and unusual punishment for something they never did.
Lord, save us.
After five inches of rain in a week and with heavy showers still about, little wonder the official crowd figure was, once again, well inflated.
A cursory glace around the ground, which now holds a 42,000 capacity at absolute maximum after the re-build, revealed the place to be barely half full.
As someone close to us who overheard us said, "they're all in the bars".
The whole damned thing was summed up well by a woman in a red and white cardigan on the event bus back to Central after the game who announced to anyone listening "I've been looking forward to this wedding all year, and to think, I gave it up for this".
Tickets are in hand for the Menzies Terrace at Manuka Oval for this weekend's early Saturday afternoon game, on the principle that you can't be considered to be a real fan unless you go to at least one away game a season.
Doesn't matter if you win or lose, you will have done the hard yards either way.

SYDNEY: 5.2, 5.8, 8.8, 10.11 (71). Goals: McGlynn 4, McVeigh 2, Mumford 2, Moore, Jack.
CARLTON: 3.1, 3.6, 8.9, 12.15 (87). Goals: Betts 4, Walker 2, Garlett 2, Joseph, Waite, O'hAilpin, S.White.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 28,081.

Found myself in an unfamiliar unusual Front Bar on one of those sparkling days in the Emerald City.
Maroubra Seals Club, of all places.
A run down dump now, but has the advantage of the magnificent view of the huge rolling surf and the cheap cold beer.
It appeared no Brown Brothers were allowed.
It's a a strictly White Bread sort of place.
And 100% men too, most of whom were about my vintage or older; no women.
Cocked half an eyebrow, before realising that that's just the way it's done there.
It doesn't pretend to be cosmopolitan.
Only took to round 8 for the Tigers to hit their straps; fair enough given what's been going on down in Sick Bay.
What impressed most was the brilliance of the kicking game, with Benji, Louie Lui, and The Best Leb In The Game all putting it on the toe in no end of clever set plays.
Eight tries to two tells you they are doing something right out back!
Balmain forwards outclassed the Raiders pack, simple as that, with Heighington leading the way as the "Defensive Captain", as the new Assistant Coach Peter Gentle described him on interview after the match.
Pleasing to note a couple of days before the game that SC Sheens had a meeting with The Club Secretary Stephen "Son of Kevin" Humphreys, probably in some cafe in Chiswick, and agreed to new terms to extend his contract by a further three years.
Despite what SC Sheens called "a flattering offer" from Penrith, he eschewed the extra lard that the Chocolate Soldiers were offering on the bottom line, and took the three years, as the Panthers were only prepared to go to two years, and besides, he says that he still has things to do with the team he's got.
An oblique reference to another Premiership, perhaps?
The Club Secretary admitted openly that there would be a faction in the club that would not be entirely happy with the re-signing, but The Board signed off on the decision, and "the vast majority of fans would be delighted with the re-appointment".
Got that right.
On hearing the news, Benji Marshall said he was "over the moon".
That's got to be enough for anyone.
Sheens is nothing if not clever.
At age 60, you'd want a three year deal to take you through to the "time to give it away, son" end game after a full 30 years in the coaching caper, then take up the pipe and slippers, but only then.
He'd be happy enough to take this week off from Leichhardt after that, and go and coach the Strayan Kangaroos for a few days for a one-off test match up on the Gold Coast.
Reckons he might enjoy having the "best team in the world" on his hands and plotting against the second best player in the Balmain side, who just happens to be the New Zealand captain.
All power to his oars.

CANBERRA RAIDERS 12: Tries: Dugan (2). Goals: Croker (2).
WESTS TIGERS 49: Tries: McKinnon (2), Utai, Fulton, Heighington, Marshall, Dwyer, Fifita. Goals: Marshall (7), Moltzen (1). Field Goals: Marshall (1).
At Canberra Stadium.
Crowd: 13,425.

ruined by the whistle

2011-04-26T05:08:00.000-07:00

Bar Fly's,

You only have to look at the penalty count to confirm it was a game ruined by the whistle.
16 of 'em in all, 9 to Brisbane and 7 to Balmain.
The Bamfords made a rod for their own backs and then ended up looking like fools to themselves and a burden on the community.
Lord, spare me.
Little wonder the trigger happy refs had to have a police escort to get them off the ground unscathed at full time.
A fool called Suttor was the most heavily guarded.
That said, the Tigers had played the game too many times in their heads before they even got to the ground.
One of the rare occasions that SC Sheens was guilty of overcoaching a team - dressing room shot on the crystal bucket before the game with the coach in a huddle with his strike weapons pouring over the charts and the gin-soaked plans was enough to set the players involved off to yawning, and looking away at the bare walls.
To be fair, on interview after the game, SC Sheens admitted that he only had himself to blame.
Spent far too much time on trying to break the Brisbane brick wall with some tricksy set plays that only worked once in a while, while neglecting to deal with the Broncos fairly potent attack in its own right; not to metion the distinct possibilty of being cruelled by Lockyer's kicking game.
They'll learn from their losses, you'd only hope.
There's now no doubt that the boffins down in the Rehab Dept have been putting in their overtime chits.
Everyone loved the television images of Robert "Louie" Lui's appearance at the ground, having already been relieved of his bag by an attendant, going into the changing rooms showing the thumbs up and a big smile on his face with his boots strung over his shoulder by their laces as if he was saying he was ready to play after getting himself an early discharge from Sick Bay, despite not being on the radar at all in the named team on Tuesday, .
SC Sheens promptly picked him at half-back in the run-on side playing in jumper No.18 in the final team sheet that has to be submitted to referee's an hour before kick off.
Did well, good hands, some nice work through the backline, scored a try.
Getting Fulton back on the bench and "Be My Beau" Ryan back on the paddock well before the the HabBoys thought they would were projects well done.
Pity the poor chap Ryan found himself well short of a run and way out of practice, and had a dead set shocker on return; coughing the ball up cold to gift the Broncos the springboard to victory didn't help things that much.
The Room Full of Mirrors beckons.
You'd have to think something is wrong if the Mighty Tiges can't beat last placed Canberra away this weekend and then enjoy the bye to keep things on an even keel?
At this stage, it appears at first glance that the season, as they say in the classics, is 'delicately poised'.
With Balmain at 8th, it looks like it could be a run away top four, with a log jam in five to nine.
The rest in ten to sixteen will just please themselves and carry on regardless.
The Club Secretary will tell you the aim is not to be among them.

WESTS TIGERS 18. Tries: Moltzen (2), Lui. Goals: Marshall (3).
BRISBANE BRONCOS 31. Tries: Glenn, Lockyer, Thaiday, Wallace, Yow-Yeh. Goals: Parker (5). Field Goals: Lockyer (1).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 19,494.

You'd have to wonder if Coach Horse continues the tradition that SC Roos had over many years of hosting a slap-up BBQ with full bar at his place for the team on the Saturday of the bye weekend?
It may have fallen into disuse now that there are two byes a season.
Or perhaps, St Paul contines the tradition himself, even though he's now coaching the Under 9's?
A few well placed words from the Super Coach in some appropriate shell-likes probably wouldn't go astray at this juncture.
But, who knows?

SYDNEY: Bye.

sold a pram full of dummies

2011-04-19T17:42:00.000-07:00

Revengists,

There's only one bloke who can mix his metaphors better than me, and that's Tim Sheens.
He really did say on interview after the game "we are brain dead because we shot ourselves in the foot time and time again".
Mid afternoon Friday, wandered into the Front Bar at The Local and found The Philosopher enscounced in his usual possie under the mirror in the dimly lit corner of the room contemplating this week's favoured tipple.
A large vodka and tonic with two slices of lemon.
Now, as we know, The Philospher is loathe to venture an opinion or make make an informed comment on anything, let alone something as insignificant as football.
But when pressed on his thoughts about the evening's game, he did manage five words as if it was a throw away line: "Prince could get murdered tonight".
And so it came to pass.
Prince was hammered in every tackle, and hit late and put on his backside after every kick.
Copped a clothesline around the chops that the Bamford's missed, not to mention the odd squirrel grip going on here and there, and then there was the Christmas Hold option.
Clearly, Prince was getting "special treatment".
Balmain people don't forgive easily and never forget.
Prince taking the truckload of cash from the Gold Coast in '06 whilst trading on the fact that he was a Premiership Ring wearer from just the year before is still viewed as a bastard act of treachery among the Leichhardt faithful.
Never mind that the idiot Balmain board let him go in what SC Sheens described as "the worst decision made by any football club in my entire rugby league career".
Getting the scoundrel was among just a few personal vendettas going on, which for mine, distracted the Miracle of '05 veterans from the game at hand.
They were 14-0 up after 11 minutes then rested on their laurels, for gawd's sake, while going around bashing a few blokes up and putting on some cheap shots.
While they were busy doing that, none of the set plays worked, they were seriously harrassed in defence, and just failed to grasp the nettle in the second half.
It always looked like it would come to nought, then Prince had the last throw of the dice.
Sold the Tigers defence a pram full of dummies to stroll in untouched for the softest match winning try of the season, as they stood around and looked at each other while shaking their heads.
Didn't help that The Refrigerator made two inexplicable mistakes, to wit, knocking on in the play the ball late in the piece to serve the game up to the Titans on a silver platter.
To make matters worse, The Fridge is down to Sick bay for at least a fortnight with an ankle.
Nurse!
You can only hope the boffins down in the Rehab Dept are putting in their overtime chits.
With plenty of time on his hands, Toddy'll be the first one this season to be sent down to the Room Full Of Mirrors on the Balmain Road, to have a good look at himself.
Could not believe the news that Mr Chris Heighington became the subject of a joke charge for a 'careless' high tackle on that serial pest Greg Bird -- without doubt the most annoying person in the entire game.
Heighington decided in a split second that he'd have to take that one up to the judiciary, thank you very much.
Slip on his best suit and tie and take a good QC with him, who no doubt would have advised him not to appear before the Panel of His Eminences and say in his defence "it wasn't careless, guvna. I wanted to flatten the bloke, y'know, give him a real good clock around the ears and nose, y'know, teach the low bastard a lesson. I could carry on like a pork chop, but, like, you know what he's like, just disappointed that I didn't give him a better one, a real good shot, y'know, guvna".
Lord, spare me.
At the very least, our lad deserves natural justice.
SC Sheens also remarked on interview "no wonder coaches lose hair and go grey".
Like something straight out of the Picture of Dorian Gray.
You can just the see the coach pulling his hair out over dinner, and then watching it as it continues to go grey while it lies there on the kitchen table.
The Club Secretary might be scrabbling about in the back of the football office looking for the abacus as there is a bit to ponder.
3-3 after six is enough to put you thereabouts, but with the best part of a quarter of the season gone, will have to do better to threaten the top four.
Needless to say, it doesn't get any easier this week against the in-form Brisbane outfit at home.

GOLD COAST TITANS 20. Tries: Zillman (2), Minichiello, Prince. Goals: Prince (2).
WESTS TIGERS 14. Tries: Dwyer, Heighington. Goals: Marshall (3).
At Robina Park.
Crowd: 17,221.

Awoke in the very small hours of Saturday morning to the sound of torrential, flooding rain on the tin roof.
Immediately thought "ooh, it'll be a wet track at HQ".
Not surprised to find 48mm [that's two inches in the old money] in the backyard rain gauge and my rocket and swiss chard seedlings washed away.
Good thing that the GLW eschewed the chance of getting a cheap ticket to the Doncaster Day/Swans Game double.
Given that it rained all day and night, no one really fancied the prospect of the inevitable punters nightmare on a bog track at Randwick, then arriving at the G without your shirt, only to watch pigs rootin' in mud and your side go down in a mudbath.
In a match where tactics pretty much went out the window and structure was the baby thrown out with the bathwater, Geelong just found a better fit on the head for their wet weather thinking caps.
Cats valued patience at a premium.
Nothing much to it.
Swans didn't win the lottery.
Oh well.
What's news?
No heroics.
No Nick Davis Come To Save Us this time [Davis, of course, played the best quarter of Rules football ever seen at the SCG the last time the two teams engaged each other on the ground five and half years ago -- it messed with his head; after being consistently dropped, he was unceremoniously shuffled out the back door with an attitude/weight/injury/drink/drugs/problem three years later, and never played again. Probably sleeping under the old Glebe Island bridge, for all we know].
While the Swans quite rightly pin their hopes on the veterans and journeymen to provide the backbone with their skills in the air and in the wrestle, the weather exposed most of them as having lost a couple of yards in pace and finding it difficult to compete with the ball running on the ground.
That could be a problem.
Seasoned observers at the ground noted that it's interesting to see how the young fellas are going; the Jetta Kiddie and Spida Jnr being a case in point.
Going from creditable performances, including the goal of the year, last week, to a patchy showing at best from both of them against serious opposition players this week.
Guess it can be put down to the inexperience and inconsistency of the Yoof of Today.
In normal circumstances you'd send 'em for a stint in reserves to get them up to standard, but who else is there to play?
The hard truth for anyone under 21 in this caper is that Rules, among all the football codes, is probably the hardest to learn how to play well.
Coach Longmire would have been happy enough to get to Sunday morning smoko by the magic waters at Bronte, take up his position on the much vaunted and prized flat rock, recently vacated by SC Roos, and gaze out over the Tasman Sea to the horizon, and have a good think about things.
Happy enough, too, to have the bye this week.
At least then nothing can go wrong over Easter.

SYDNEY: 4.3 4.5 6.9 7.12 (54). Goals: Bevan 2 Mumford 2 Goodes Kennedy O'Keefe.
GEELONG: 3.2 6.6 8.10 11.15 (81). Goals: Wojcinski 3 Chapman 2 Enright Ling Menzel Podsiadly Johnson Varcoe.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 25,300.

The Great Train Robbery narrowly averted

2011-04-14T22:42:00.000-07:00

Heart Patients,

Given his appalling record as a goal kicker, The Great Benji's field goal attempt from just inside his own half somewhere near the middle of the 50 metre line seemed preposterous at best.
And yet the ball sailed sweetly off the boot, flew high wide and handsome; had plenty of height and no trouble with the distance, but managed to shave a coat of paint off the left upright before gently rolling across the dead ball line just as the half-time hooter sounded for no result,
Never mind that it was roundly applauded as a red hot go.
Noticed SC Sheens has a very clever ploy going on, based on the paradox that no one can fault Marshall with his kicking in general play.
Benji never kicked on the last tackle at any point in the match; always got the clearing kick away on the 3rd or 4th tackle.
That way the valve on the pressure cooker is released, you make the opposition do a lot more work in attack for very little territorial advantage, while your forwards take up the invitation to bash the visitors from pillar to post.
That will take the puff and the stuffing out of any side, especially if they don't have fresh legs to put on the in the last 20 minutes.
Coach doesn't mind being behind, knowing the likelihood of coming home under a wet sail is always likely.
If there were any kiddies at the ground their mentors would do doubt have been instrructing them to take a close look at proceedings as "an excellent text book example of well-coached team-work, against the odds"
Inglis for Souths was the only fly in the ointment early, with seasoned observers at the ground questioning whether his shoulder charge is actually legal.
He lines his intended victim up with a tank gun, and then boom!
However, the resultant bone-rattling bell-ringer is late more often than not, moments after the tacklee has disposed of the ball.
The thug obviously thinks its not illegal unless you get caught, so continues to go on with it, and is only encouraged as the Bamfords by and large see nothing wrong with it.
Go figure.
Speaking of Bamfords, after a minor stink in the second half it was rather humourous to see the ref, officiating in just his 8th first grade game, dress down the players saying "now listen up, you blokes can't take the law into your own hands".
Yeah. Right.
And then Marshall gets sin-binned for ten minutes with four minutes left in the match for holding a player down in the tackle, and strides off to the rooms to a standing ovation.
The Best Leb In the Game and The Great Benji superbly orchestrated the set plays, and the continuation of the Farah/Marshall show, week in, week out, will be the difference between winning and losing all season.
Lord help us if either of them gets run over by a George Street bus.
The return of That Pom Ellis adds starch to the pack, but there's still nine first graders in Sick Bay, with none of them back any time soon.
Even with an injury list that long, SC Sheens sees no need to throw the new wunderkid Jacob Miller in at the deep end, bringing him on only in the 65th minute.
There's always delicious satisfaction beating Souths, especially after being at the SCG last year to see Balmain absolutely flogged by the Rabbitohs 50-10 [the game the players were forced to apologise to the fans for, and the tipping point that sent them on the road to finishing 3rd].
Did like the shot on the crystal bucket of Rusty Crowe sitting all by himself in the Souths Owner's Box, with all the other people squeezed as tightly as they could into the opposite corner.
The bloke must stink.
Either that, or he's a sore loser.

WESTS TIGERS 30. Tries: Dwyer (2), Brown, Marshall, McKinnon. Goals: Marshall (5).
SOUTH SYDNEY RABBITOHS 6. Tries: Sandow. Goals: Sandow (1).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 22,677.

Watching the Cardiac Kids is not easy.
Never ming reaching for the heart pills, it seemed a sure thing during the final stanza that the ambo's would turn up at my place, lay me out on a gurney and wheel me up the street and around the corner to Canterbury Hospital for an emergency triple by-pass.
Why is it that in recent seasons the Swans rarely get thrashed, and rarely thrash any opposition?
With the Swans down by 6 points at three quarter time, there was a live chance that the Red and the White could have gone down by that exact margin, right to the very death.
That wouldn't have sat very well.
Given that early in the first quarter a perfectly good goal from Goodes was ruled by the vision-impaired [read legally blind] goal Bamford as a behind.
Wot the?
Human frailty you can understand and forgive, but it's very hard to tolerate plain incompetance on the part of officialdom.
The Great Train Robbery narrowly averted.
It's a bit of a worry when at first glance the Swans seem to be being coached by Mr Ed to constantly chop and change between Plan A and Plan B, whatever Plan A and Plan B might be.
Going from the the 'traditional' flood into the backline and endless stacks on the mill, then suddenly its the long bomb and hope with few if any players in the forward 50.
Doesn't smack much of structure, for mine.
Lets see how it pans out over the next few weeks.
You'd be prepared to cut the new coach a bit of slack at this stage; as he keeps telling the Club Secretary "still feeling my way boss", and who can argue with his charges yet to taste defeat after three rounds rounds?.
Not a lot of consistency either; Rick Shaw might have been best on ground up to half-time and then went missing in action, while In Like McGlynn did nothing in the first half, only to play a blinder for most of the second, with Smiffy and Spida Jnr left with the task of tidying up the win at the denoument.
Then there's the young bloke in the team who hasn't been told about or can't remember any game plan and just goes about doing his own thing; in the process producing the goal of the year.
The young Jetta kiddie -- found himself hovering about on the half-back line when the pill came his way, got possession, lost it, and then neatly tapped the ball on three times on the run, regathered, one bounce, and a kick from 60 metres out that bounced a few times in the goal square before dribbling through the big sticks.
Magnificent.
One more win and they'd be building into a very handy early season purple patch.
But the game at HQ this Saturday night against the Cats will provide a rather good yardstick with which to measure themselves by.
And please, no more of this cardiac stuff, OK, Horse?

WEST COAST EAGLES: 3.3, 6.8, 10.10, 13.10 (88). Goals: Lynch 4, Cox 2, Embley, Ebert, Kennedy, Gaff, Shuey, Selwood, Naitanui.
SYDNEY SWANS: 3.3, 7.5, 9.10, 15.11 (101). Goals: Goodes 3, Everitt, McGlynn 2, Jetta, Shaw, Bolton, Rohan, Smith, White.
At Subiaco Oval.
Crowd: 37,288.

Crazy Craves Art Market

2011-04-11T17:14:00.000-07:00

High Rollers,

Off topic to be sure, but here it is, for another year.
My book on the 2011 Archibald Prize.
It's a market that is not based on or revolves around any kind of artistic merit whatsoever; rather logic, determined purely on form.
The AGNSW Trustees, who decide the winner and award the prize, have form.
They might not know anything about art, but they know what they like.
Half the painters in a gargantuan field have form, some over a lot of years of trying in the caper, including no less than five previous winners and plenty more who have been hung before.
It's a wide open affair with many genuine chances.
My Tip?
The Miller is the sentimental favourite for mine, while Sages is well overdue for a win.
Neither is likely to salute the judges.
The choice is yours.

CRAZY CRAVES ART MARKET

[Archibald Prize 2011. Listed Race. Over any distance you like. Set weights. All-age Painter's Free-For-All, with conditions. Subject must be prominent person in fields of Arts, Letters, Sciences, or Politics. First past the post only. No protests. No disqualifications. Run: Art Gallery of New South Wales, Friday 16 April, 1200 AEST].

4/1 Quilty.
9/2 Chang, Harding, Miller.
13/2 Dyer, Sages, Shen, Ruddy.
10/1 Cullen, Culliton, McKenzie, Tippet.
12/1 Chen, McDonald, Pople.
16/1 Done, Ling, Lowry.
25/1 Abdullah, Callum, de Berenger, Marburg, Storrier, Wegener.
33/1 Alexander, Barton, Beynon, Doust, Kibel, Kretschmar.
50/1 Bieniek, Benjamin, Lindeman, Mezei, Stafanescu.
100/1 But-Husaim, McVinish, Macbeth, Tyson, Yin.
150/1 Fantauzzo, No prize awarded.

on two crook nuts

2011-04-06T04:15:00.000-07:00

Registered Nurses,

It had that air of all-too predictable inevitabillty about it.
Little wonder with no less than eleven [needless to say, that's two short of a team in this caper] rostered first grade players in The Sick Bay and The Best Leb In The Game afflicted with some disease/injury of/to the goddam pubis, for gawd sake.
West Tigers website thoughtfully maintains a regularly updated injured players list.
You know the sort of thing; name of player, cause of problem "knee", "groin", "shoulder", and earliest expected round of return - four of them are listed as "indefinite", but thankfully, at this stage, no one appears as "season".
With the very bad luck they've been having in that department so early in the season, the pessimist would say its only a matter of time before all hope is lost.
Balmain are not short on fitness; with the coaches they've got they'd be being flogged on the training paddock, so why the seeming fragileness?
The Club Doctor confesses that he doesn't have a clue.
To make matters worse, mid-week before the game three players, to wit Bryce Gibbs, Beau Ryan and Liam Fulton, were reprimanded and fined for failing to adhere to the no alcohol whatsoever rule for players in injury rehab, the weekend previous.
Seems they were spotted in a dark corner of the leagues club ordering the steak and chips and a couple of beers while settling in to watch some other rugby league game on the big screen.
No one is quite sure why they did it, or if it was an act of open defiance against the ban.
They're not saying, maintaining their right to silence.
The Coach and The Board took a dim view of it, but the Club Secretary eventually, wisely, downgraded the charge to a "breach of protocol" given that no one was anywhere near drunk or doing anything unusual or offensive.
Crikey!
If you were buggered and couldn't play and had little prospect of turning out in the forseeable future, the first thing you'd be tounging for would be a large drink, wouldn't it?
You have to wonder if anyone has officially replaced the "assistant coach" and go-to-man The Great Royce Simmons, who's departed for a full-time head coach job in the dark satantic mills of northern England.
Roycie would have simply advised the trio in question to get their grog home delivered.
Pleasing to see that SC Sheens continues to play ducks and drakes when it comes to team selection, naming the untried 18-year-old half back called Jacob Miller who was plucked from obscurity while playing for the Mullumbimby Giants, at half back, when he never intended to play him there, sensibly preferring the experienced Timmy Moltzen, who's more of a full back, to play half back.
Left Miller on the bench and gave him no more than 10 minutes in the centres in the second half, while Moltzen played the full 80 minutes for the first time in a good 12 months, according to the stats guru's.
After giving a regulation display in the first half with the limited resources they had, things were not helped for Balmain when that dirty rotten scoundrel Minichielo scored his 104th career try for The Chooks.
Things looked up when the Bamford saw fit to sin bin the very same player for ten minutes with nine minutes left in the match for a professional foul, aka a deliberate strip in a two-on-one tackle, with the Tigers in a choice attacking position.
The Bamford took that view that Minichielo had been doing it all day, and enough was enough.
Unfortunately the Tigers came very close but couldn't complete the set off the back of the penalty.
They battled on gamley with a few genuine chances in the denoument, but it didn't come close to paying off against a rugged steadfast opposition defence.
As expected, beaten fair and square.
Farah has a stark choice for his inner groin problem.
Surgery and two months off, or battle through the painkilling injections right into the rather delicate places, and play on.
Seems he might have taken the second option, given that he is permanently in dummy half and never gets tackled unless he wants to be, so he doesn't get bashed up like the other forwards.
Reckons he can still do his job on two crook nuts and get away with it.
No one's going to argue with that and good luck to him.
SC Sheens on interview after the game briefly ruminated on lost opportunites, principally the inability to convert some clever set-plays into points, but was at his tacitern best when he remarked..."well, we'll have to be better next week, otherwise Souths will murder us".

SYDNEY ROOSTERS 24. Tries: Kenny-Dowall, Kennedy, Minichiello, Carney. Goals: Anasta (4).
WESTS TIGERS 6. Tries: Woods. Goals: Marshall (1).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 20,479.

Found myself in a car on the way home from a picnic at Towradgi listening to the radio call of the last quarter from the Western Paddock, so didn't see a single frame of the game, not even the highlights reel on the crystal bucket news, so not really in much of a position to offer comment.
But from what could be discerned from the wireless, Mr Ed would not have been entirely happy.
Suppose he would have been relieved that the Swans managed to take the Get Out Of Jail Card Free, when it looked for all the world like yet another tie at the death.
Had to reach for the heart pills immediately on coming through the front door.
Seasoned observers suggest it was the club veterans who provided the glue to keep the sinking ship afloat after the long break.
But the likes of The Goodes Train (31yo), Rhino (30), Bolton, J. (31), Mad Marty Matts (28) are getting rather long in the tooth and can't have more than this year left in them, surely?
Looks for all the world, at this very early stage, like a repeat of last year looming - a reasonable show of making the 8, only to be eaten alive for breakfast in the finals.
Apparently one of the highlights of the match was one of the Bamfords being completely bowled over by Son of Gary, with the official going down like a sack of potatoes.
Talk about larf!
Worth the price of admission alone you would have thought.
Not that there were many there to see it; less than 30K at Homebush is an out-and-out poor attendance.
Perhaps the staff on the turnstiles somehow forgot to count the phantom members who didn't turn up?
My spy at the ground, a long time loyal member, sent me a message on the bush telegraph.
"Coach Horse appears to be trying something a little different. No-one quite knows what this is"
Time will tell, you'd be guessing.

SYDNEY: 1.5, 6.8, 10.11, 14.14 (98). Goals: J.Bolton 3, McGlynn 3, Bevan 2, White 2, Goodes, Kennedy, Rohan, O'Keefe.
ESSENDON: 4.4, 8.7, 12.9, 13.15 (93). Goals: Crameri 2, Hurley 2, Ryder 2, Winderlich 2, Leroy Jetta, Davey, Hocking, Watson, M.McVeigh.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 28,082.

"you'd swear he was covered in spiders"

2011-03-30T16:17:00.000-07:00

Arachnologists,

A bizzare game of football if ever there was one.
With the brand new flat screen telly in the corner of the loungeroom that had been ordered in just in time for the new footy season firmly locked on to news from the tally room, found myself scrabbling about in the rafters of Dad's Shed fiddling about and adusting the radio aerial to beam in the long range broadcast of the Tiges game.
Football had been bumped off local radio, both ABC and commercial, in favour of election coverage.
Managed to tune into the only option for a continuous call of the rugby league proceedings on the reliable old shed wireless from ABC 612AM Brisbane.
Reception was fairly scratchy through the white noise snow, so brought a portable radio down to the shed and tuned it into the same frequency.
Voila! Bingo! AM Stereo! Brilliant!
Needless to say, it worked a treat.
Well aware that the call was freely available with crystal clear clarity on the net thingy, but this was much more fun.
Maybe it's time to cut the mustard and do a deal to get a digital radio?
No idea who was calling the game, but he did have a nice turn of phrase.
Marshall was making a bustling run being heavily involved in some first-half set-play and the commentator called it thus:
"Marshall! He's busted through one tackle, now he's done another, threw a dummy, stepped in and slipped away from a third tackle, and now a fourth! How about that! He's still going Marshall! Now, he's finally brought down. Fair Dinkum! You'd swear he was covered in spiders."
Forwards laid some solid groundwork, as you'd expect, to give the Great Benji and the other backs room to put on the jink, the step, the weave to good effect and it always looked like it was going to be tries-a-plenty, especially against a Raiders' defence that was put on the back foot one too many times.
The visitors really had no hope after a forward scored a brilliant run away try off his own bat...Mr Andrew Fifita, who's of course built like a Sherman tank, busted the advantage line wide open and found himself in the clear with no visible means of support, with only the full back to beat; cranked up the tracks on the armoured personel carrier, swatted the full back out the way and ran a full 50 metres to plant the ball underneath the black dot.
Magnificent!
Now that's embarrassing for any opposition.
Speaking of complete embarrassment for Marshall; lining up to kick a gimmee goal, only problem was that his kicking boot got in caught the turf and the ball dribbled a few yards off the kicking tee and rolled end on end and went no further, failed even to become airborne.
Joisus.
No further evidence needed viz a viz the urgent need for a new goal kicker!
With the game in the dilly bag, the Try Scoring Freak was stretchered off with ten minutes to go with what keen observers at the ground described as "a shocker".
Turns out the poor bastard had to be taken to the local hospital and given a general anesthetic before they could get five blokes in white coats to jump on him and put his dislocated hip back into place.
Never heard of such an injury before, but was always bound to be very bad.
With Lawrence gorn, the Tiges appeared to loose all interest in the game, and proceeded to let in not one, not two, but three soft tries in the denoument.
Not a good look when a well regarded student of the game remarked over the bush telegraph that the second half represented a chance to "put the fear into the other teams".
Didn't work like that.
SC Sheens would have been filthy as with the last 10 minutes, reminding his charges in no uncertain terms that the game only goes on for 80 minutes, for gawd's sake, and there's no time for a nap, let alone a sleep at
Campbelltown.
You might be mugged, as they were.
The Great Todd "The Refrigerator" Payten played his 250th game [a rarity in league] and threw his weight around well in the early part; happy enough to take the accolades.
One helluva unit who played in the '05 Grand Final and whose longevity has been truly remarkable.
Softly spoken off field and has an admirable long standing policy of never drawing any attention to himself.
Curiously enough his 250th came playing against the team he is now playing with at the same ground as he did in his debut game, when he turned out for Canberra, then coached by Tim Sheens.
Circular circularity at its finest.
With Lote "Wot'd I do Guv?" Tuqiri out with a broken right forearm, as a result of an innocuous first half tackle, until Round 11 at best, and The Try Scoring Freak gorn until Round 16 at the very very earliest [read season ender, for mine], surely it's not another season -- you can pick any one you like from The Drought of '06-'09 -- that is tragically cruelled by injury?
SC Sheens had the proper take on it as quoted in the Sunday fishwraps
'You learn in this game that you've got to get on with it. It would be a waste for Chris if we lose next week … It's very disappointing for the kid and for the team, to lose our left edge tonight. The players have got to come to grips with getting ready for another week.'
Indeed, the "left edge" wiped out in the blink of an eye.

WESTS TIGERS 34. Tries: Lawrence, Utai, Lui, Heighington, Ayshford, Fifita. Goals: Marshall (5).
CANBERRA RAIDERS 24: Tries: Ferguson (3), Vidot, Dugan. Goals: Croker (2).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 14,091.

Another bizzare game by any measure and they only have themselves to blame.
Suppose it's as good a time as any in the season to learn the painful lesson that nine times out of ten games of Australian Rules Football are usually won and lost in the Championship Quarter.
That's why it's called the Championship Quarter, doh.
Three goals nine behinds in Q3 is a dead-set coach killer, with most of the bent-wide chances coming from set shots.
Deary me.
No doubt Coach Horse aka Mr Ed would have raised his voice as he told them that to escape with two points from the draw that they narrowly got away with is only half the punishment.
If he had any sense, he would have just got the forwards together on the training paddock on Monday morning and told them they can only go home once they have kicked 50 goals, each.
At the same time, he'd be saying to the Club Secretary "I'm new to this, boss!".
He'd claim tactics and strategy need careful planning, which takes time, and fair enough you'd suppose, but that sort of inaccuracy in front of the big sticks just doesn't wash.
Although there were some encouraging aspects, it's hard to see at this early stage, the Swans being really competitive with the genuine top sides.
And yet there have been a few sharp long time observers of the game who pre-season rated The Red & The White a chance of making the top four.
Mmmm....
Thought the Yoof of Today who the club have recruited over the past couple of years acquitted themselves well.
The likes of Son of Gary, Big Ted, the Haneberry Kiddie, Jetta the Joint Strike Fighter, Rick Shaw, In Like McGlynn, Jesse James White, Reg Grundy, even Spida Jnr on debut, all sparkled from time to time, but still need to learn how to play four good quarters of football consistently to make a major impact, while the veterans and journeymen did what they've been doing year in year out, just getting things done.
Mr Ed would be well aware that he has but one superstar on the roster - who's star is on the wane - and then it's a long step down off The Goodes Train to a handful of players who are capable of out and out brilliance.
Rhino Keefe probably the best among them on the day.
Seems they're going down the right track, but it looms as a rebuilding year in all probability.
There's no substitute for hard won experience, but Jetta's 80 yard solo run from half back flank almost to the full forward square, with no less than five bounces along the way, only goes to prove there's nothing like exuberance.
It doesn't win matches, but it can go a long way.

MELBOURNE: 3.2 5.8 8.12 11.18 (84). Goals: Green 2, Dunn 2, Jurrah 2, Moloney, Sylvia, Bennell, N Jetta, Jones.
SYDNEY: 5.3 7.5 10.14 11.18 (84). Goals: McGlynn 3, J Bolton 3, Goodes 2, Everitt, White, Reid.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 33,951.

A night out at Leichhardt brought to you by Panadol

2011-03-24T16:25:00.000-07:00

Thrill Seekers,

It rained, on and off, all day Saturday and after weeks, if not months of no significant precipitation in Sydney, we looked like facing the irony of getting a wet arse at the football.
However, apart from a little mizzle as we climbed heartbreak hill up from the river to the Mary St entrance, not a single drop of rain fell during the match, and then the minute we walked back in through the front door, the overnight deluge began.
84mm in the rain gague at home in the 24 hours to 0900 Sunday.
Lucky.
With the weather coming in from the NE it made even more sense for me and the Good Lady Wife to perch ourselves on the low wall under the cover of the towering Port Jackson fig treeS [at the risk of being donged on the head by falling fruit] overlooking the NW corner post [which fell over of its own accord during the first half presumably due to the soft ground and had to be repaired by a bloke armed with a hacksaw] until some enormous man mountain of a brown brother, dressed in gumboots, some kind of blue boiler suit teamed with protective rugby headgear, sporting a giant silver fern flag attached to a log of a flag pole appeared as if out of nowhere, along with his outrageously drunk weedy little white bread mate in full Worriers match day kit and decided to take up residence right near us, and proceed to ruin it for everyone.
Then moved to the other end of the ground and found that the offical crowd figure had been inflated by a bit [lucky if there were 10K in, for mine, fairweather fans just didn't turn up - It's like that in Sydney] and found that we could squeeze in and lean over the railing on the terrace in front of the grand stand and watch the Tigers score the match winning tries right in front of our noses.
Brilliant!
Despite the rain reprieve, it was a ratty, dour first half exhibition of wet weather football on a greasy ground, indicated by the 0-0 scoreline after the traditional softening up period and the 6-6 scoreline at the break.
The Worriers had the bulk of first half possession and the Tiges were lucky to get away with only one try scored against them, but the visiting Kiwi's as a result were bashed from pillar to post by the Balmain forwards, and looked buggered.
It seemed certain they would run out of puff and floodgates would open to some extent, and so it came to pass, with three tries late in the half enough to seal the deal.
Obviously under instruction, Robert "not bad for a kid" Lui played a more traditional old-style kind of half back at second receiver, and while the Great Benji again just tried too hard, but at least he had a hand in every try.
The forwards manned up well in defence, but still lack some starch in taking the ball up.
That said, Keefy "Bludnut" Galloway made some important busts through the advantage line to put his backs in the clear.
After scoring another double, there was a pleasing note mid-week with Chris Lawrence being invited to lunch with the Club Secretary in the Member's Dining Room at the Balmain Leagues Club, where the Try Scoring Freak signed a new five year contract on the back of a beer coaster.
The Board took the view that The Freak should not be a new Scotty Prince - a big fish who got away.
On interview after the game, SC Sheens described the match as a "Panadol night" intimating that he's got a few headaches to cure before the Tigers can start taking all before them.
There's no substitute for match practice and match fitness, so it will come in due course.
In the meantime, a win is a win, however dire.
There was a touching half-time tribute to Taniela "The Human Wrecking Ball" Tuiaki, at a ground where he is much loved.
Here's a bloke who shattered an ankle at the end of the '09 season, missed the entire '10 season, and retired at the tender age of 28 just before the start of this season in the knowledge that he would never come right.
They paraded him around all four corners of the ground, from time-to-time arm-in-arm with some cheer girls, who let him go to do the long, lonely solo walk in front of the grand stand.
As he meekly waved to the members giving him a standing ovation, he tried manfully to hide his limp, but failed.
The poor, poor bastard.

WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Lawrence (2), Ayshford, Farah. Goals: Marshall (2).
NEW ZEALAND WARRIORS 12. Tries: Inu, Mannering. Goals: Seymour (2).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 13,161.

"The Premiership Table brought to you by WD40"

2011-03-16T05:32:00.000-07:00

Fellow Members of the Royal College of Optomotrists,

Robbed blind.
A fantastic way to start the season.
The general consensus of opinion among the seasoned observers at the ground was that third try of the match early in the second half involved, not one, but two forward passes.
The Bamford had obviously forgotten to put his contact lenses in before the game and the relevant touch judge had somehow managed to turn himself into a pillar of salt, and despite the flagrant flouting of the rules, found himself frozen by the fear of having to make a decision, and was unable and/or unwilling to blow his whistle.
It completely changed the complexion of the match, giving the Bulldogs critical momentum.
Joisus.
Walked in thru the front door from the mid-north coast and found the game already underway, and wandered down to Dad's Shed to do a few jobs and listen to the much improved MMM radio call of the Monday night game.
Did like the strategic sponsorship in the post match analysis of "The Premiership Table brought to you by WD40".
The ladder will need a bit of a spray to de-clog the rusty cogs in the inevitable mid-season log jam.
A worry that the forwards are still to find their feet, but that will come with match fitness.
It didn't help that SC Sheens made a big gamble that didn't pay off by keeping the likes of Peyton, Ellis & Heighington on the bench with the aim of re-injecting them into the game in the last 10 minutes, when, by that stage, it was fairly much game over.
SC Sheens said little on interview after the disappointment, accepting blame while commenting "the No.6 and the No.7 will probably tell you they could have had better games".
True enough.
Lui tried to get to every play-the-ball to be first receiver, only to cramp The Great Benji's style, leaving the centre pairing gasping for air.
And of course, with his minor off-field drama still looming large in his mind, Marshall just tried too hard.
Full stop.
It's also painfully apparent, as it was all last season, that BM can't kick goal.
Hopeless.
There's a rumour that Balmain has some junior waiting in the wings who is a dead accurate specialist goal kicker who can't get a game currently until his work in general play improves.
Don't know what his name is.
Who does?
Whoever he is, bring him on.
Despite, or perhaps because of, living in the heart of Canterbury-Bankstown territory for the past 12 years or so, still can't stand it when Canterbury-Bankstown beat anyone {with the possible exception of Manly}, let alone the Mighty Tiges.
It's something about the culture.
The Club Secretary would have got out a brand new Coach's Ledger for the start of the season, so SC Sheens could scratch a mark in the column headed "we'll learn from our losses" with "well take our wins" untouched on the other side of the page.
There's always this Saturday night at Leichhardt against the Worriers to make a start there.

CANTERBURY-BANKSTOWN BULLDOGS 24. Tries: Morris, Pritchard, Keating, Turner. Goals: Goodwin (4).
WESTS TIGERS 14. Tries: Tuquiri, Lawrence, Marshall. Goals: Marshall (1).
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.

sorting out the entree fork from the fish knife

2011-03-09T04:08:00.000-08:00

Loyalists,

Just handed over four pineapples to the Mighty Tiges for tickets for two to all four home games at Leichhardt Oval, which apparently, also entitles me and the Good Lady Wife to membership of the Wests Tigers Rugby League Football Club.
Joisus.
Only been going to Leichhardt Oval for 25 years, and never once did it cross my mind to take up club membership, probably on the principal of "never join a club that would have you as a member".
So after all this time, in one simple transaction, it appears they've tapped me as a member, albiet by default.
It only gets you general admission and a member's cap mind you, but at least they can't lock you out when they close the gates as the crowd pushing to get in is deemed dangerously too large.
Mighty Tiges would have to be a magnificent bright shining chance for the flag this year, with a virtually unchanged line up that went third last year, including the Sensational Six, who are the remaining survivors of the Miracle Year '05.
They include Bryce Gibbs who was quoted in the SMH as saying that he would be rather disappointed if Balmain didn't go top at the end of the regular season and pick up the JJ Giltinan Shield.
Who's to argue with a big boofy prop forward who'd rather knock yr block off than look at you?
This was the bloke who last year scribbled on a scrap of paper "I will retire from the NRL if we don't make the 8 this season".
A few other jokers signed their names underneath, and pinned it up in the Club Secretary's office.
This was after the then Club Secretary asked SC Sheens if he would like to undergo a performance review analysis.
The mild-mannered SC Sheens exploded while doing a John Malkovich scene saying "what the fark are you talking about!!" and went straight to the board, had the club secretary sacked forthwith, and then when the new club secretary was installed, immediately took him to some cafe in Chiswick and extended his contract by a year on the back of a paper napkin, with an option for a further year, which he now finds himself inclined to take up.
Never mind the Great Benji's unfortunate incident while stone cold sober when he smacked some fool-drunk in the foul-mouthed piss-talking gob outside the McDonalds on George St at 3am on a Saturday after the inebriated idiot called him a "black c+nt", following him hosting a children's cancer charity fundraising dinner at some five star in town.
The scandal sheets made much of it of course, but the Club doesn't mind, coach doesn't mind, NRL doesn't mind, cops don't care that much, fans care less, and the justice system will consider the common assault charge a nuisance and a waste of time and money.
Better to ponder the full page feature in a recent Sunday fishrap that featured the life and times of the dashing young centre Blake Ayshford, with photographs of him with a rather unattractive woman from the leagues club showing him how to dress in a suit properly, the idea of tying his tie, the way to polish his shoes, and what it means to eat properly in polite company with a knife and fork.
You know the type of thing, sorting out the entree fork from the fish knife.
Proper training in social skills.
Then, and only then, are you are free to go and score tries and make a name for yourself, son.
It's good policy that's served SC Sheens well under his tutelage.
You don't generally find Tigers players wandering about the streets aimlessly pissed at all hours, do you?
If Benji can hold his body together he'll win everything there is to win this year
Robbie "The Best Leb in the Game" Farar, makes for an outstanding captain with an excellent football brain who doesn't muck about and leads men well in the field.
Pack?
As solid as granite in defence, as proven last year where the forwards won far more games than the backs, but also superbly capable in attack; being a bunch of marauders armed with heavy artillery to break up the opposition defensive line to allow Chris "The Try Scoring Freak" Lawrence and Lote "What'd I Do Guv?" Tuiqiri to do their business, which of course, is to trouble the scorers.
SC Sheens, who has so far declined all invitations to talk to the press about this season's prospects and has not said a word about it to anyone on or off the record, is very particular about points on the board and how they are obtained, because in the final paralysis the scorebox in the next day's papers is the only thing in the caper that matters.

Gave up trying to buy a Swans three-game superpass to matches at the Western Paddock, as the Swans have changed ticket agencies, and Ticketmaster has managed to make a complete mess of it - too hard and difficult to bother with in the end.
The price had gone up, designated seats in the cheap seats that you actually might want not guaranteed, a slow, clunky, unfriendly website that was almost unavigable, and they wouldn't take my prefered credit card.
Why change a perfectly good ticketing system when it's not broke in the first place?
Spare me.
So, instead, spent $50 on a Foundation Membership of SC Sheed's Greater Western Sydney Pygmies, even though they won't play a premiership game this season.
The infant club's membership department has been brilliant, putting the "don't care" attitude towards fans over at the Swans to shame.
Coach Horse Longmire will find he has a very hard, long road to hoe.
With a list of tried [or is that tired?] and true veterans on their last legs, a chronically injury prone principal full-forward and ruckman, some has-been journeymen, a handful of promising youngsters who have played a few games, Hannebery chief among them, and some poor choices in the rookie draft; Swans will appear to travel alright from time to time, but they won't make the eight; younger, fitter, want to win teams, of which there are now plenty, will run rings around them.
Happy to bet on it at the $1.88 currently on offer.

Sorry, but time to boot the old bush telegraph in the corner of the lounge room into service, to start receiving the intelligence from my spies at the ground and transmitting the Winter Game wire for yet another season.
It'll be fun.
You know it makes sense.

Swans ticketing fail

2011-02-17T17:54:00.000-08:00

Found myself forced to fire off this e-mail to the Swans membership department.
No reply, as yet:

Dear Sirs,

As a loyal purchaser of the family Superpass ever since its inception, I must write to say how disappointed I am with this years offering through Ticketmaster.
I've always found the Superpass to be excellent value for money and, through the experience, have bought up my two daughters to appreciate the great game of Australian football.
What has happened to it now?
Why is it that I can't buy dedicated seats in the gold area, and instead have to buy something called family superpass registration?
What is that?
What does that give me for my $205??
I've always been able to purchase my reserved seats in a reserved seat area; why on earth not now?
Then I go and have a look at buying two x adult two x junior gold Superpasses, and find that the seats on offer are in different bays for each of the three games?
Why?
What happened to being able to buy the same seats for all three games, which was a matter of course with Ticketek?
I'm unhappy to say you have cruelled yourselves with the change of ticket agencies -- why change for the sake of change when nothing was broken with the ticketing system in the first place, which it clearly is now?
Just plain silly, for mine.
Sorry, but I'm not inclined to have any of that, thankyou.
Late last year I took up foundation membership with the Giants, for $50, on spec and some promises, even though they won't play a premiership game this season.
What can you offer me that would dissuade me from continuing headlong down the GWS track in 2012?
Please don't lose me.

Yours Sincerely,

a long way shy of a few runs

2011-01-28T03:50:00.000-08:00

Trick Cyclists,

What's wrong with Pup?
If he was anyone else, he'd be dropped.
Forthwith.
It's obvious he's worried about his batting game - DJ Hussey says he's trying too hard to make a score.
Perhaps someone put something in his water on one of those nights out in the Eastern Suburbs?
Or something simpler, like all the cafe food he's been eating hasn't been agreeing with him?
Maybe he's not getting a root for the first time in his life?
Surely not, can't be true.
If it was, it'd be in the papers.
Is he fretting that his favourite casual fashion shirt doesn't quite fit as well as it used to?
Or is the chronic life-long incurable dose of Shagger's Back giving him more discomfort than he gives it credit for?
Looks like a bloke who would try to hide a niggle.
Then again, could be a long-standing undiagnosed psychological problem dating from chilhood that causes Michael to scratch around in the crease like an old chook while not thinking about all the ways you can get out?
Anyway, a long way shy of a few runs, to be sure, with the only saving grace some faint praise in the quarters that matter for his captaincy of a generally winning side.
Due, on some folk's account, for some good centre wicket practice at Bankstown Oval.
S'pose MJ Clarke is not that worried, even if he is nervous, given that rumour has it that Punter has had not one, but two operations on his left pinkie.
A little birdie is singing that the doctors are saying the offending digit will be deformed for life from such an innocuous accident in the cordon in Perth - a while ago now.
Who knows what it will do for RT's batting, if he ever comes back, in which case can Ricky still field effectively in the slips, or be forever gripped by fear?
Problematical at his age.
So the question of the captaincy remains wide open to conjecture.
Quite right; as it should be.
While it might not matter all that much in the grand scheme of things there is still a World Cup to be won, after all.
At least the flannelled fools have a better chance at putting on a show than the pansies going around in the current Asian Cup in the round-ball caper.
Reminds me of the tasteful souvenir t-shirt I had in mind to get made up and flog to punters lining up at the gates the last time Straya played Japan; both flags intertwined in a swirl of red,white, union jack and stars on the front of the garment, and the tour dates listed on the back, printed in bold on a boxing kangaroo motif:

Singapore: 15 Feb 1942
Darwin: 19 Feb 1942
Hiroshima: 6 Aug 1945
Nagasaki: 9 Aug 1945
Doha: 29 Jan 2011...
"THE DECIDER!"

Reckon they'd sell.

a modicum of culpability

2011-01-10T03:45:00.000-08:00

Psychologically Scarred Spectators,

At least MJ Clarke had the decency and sense, at the miserable dénouement, to show a modicum of culpability by relinquishing the T20 Captaincy, and indeed retiring from all T20 cricket forthwith, falling on his sword while accepting the fact that he was never really any good at the shortest form, and acknowledging that he needs to try harder at test cricket.
Wise move.
It was clearly a token gesture, but at least it was one.
Didn't find myself at the ground at any stage in the five days, largely on account of the preponderance of gloating Poms, the small and uncomfortable seats, and the complete lack of full-strength beer throughout the outer ground bars.
If the point of watching cricket is pleasure, there certainly wasn't any to be found anywhere at the SCG last week, and if you are uncomfortable, tounging for a proper drink and deriving no pleasure from it, then obviously, there is no point.
Don't know that anyone has, as yet, really grasped the full extent and devastating impact of the terrible Sickness in Sydney.
Even with the Ridiculous Little Urn already long gorn.
Pup didn't really make an auspicious start to his career as Captain.
His well-made 4 on Day 1 after pulling the wrong reign at the toss and electing to bat under leaden skies on a typical Sydney summer's day dripping with humidity faced with something of a green top against a side full of quality ball-tampering seamers didn't exactly endear him to the general public or silence his legion of critics.
Fiddling with the batting order, just because he could and wanted to stamp some kind of mark of authority on the caper is never a good idea, particularly first up.
It just unecessarily messes with some ego's; putting Haddin down to six didn't work anyway, with SPD Smiffy looking good while fuming under his hat at number 7 -- until he got out.
Old timers at the ground did credit Clarke with some astuteness in the field on Day 2.
Working the bowling changes and the field placing with a little aplomb, taking Joke Johno off early after pulling the wrong reign in deciding to open with the jester, and did all he could to rally an effort out of the pop-gun attack at his disposal that was not even close to firing on all four cyclinders.
Just a pity about the Beer wicket off a Billy "Idiot Savant" Bowden no ball.
Pup found himself seriously challenged on Day 3, and struggled to skipper up to standard, for mine.
Harsh, but true.
Again he had steam coming out of Smiffy's ears as his leggie credentials were ignored until very late in the piece...mind you he went for almost 50 in ten overs, so the skipper could say with justification that he was probably right in the first place.
He ringed the changes like church bells and toyed around with the scattered chooks, but to not much avail, and eventually lost his rag, given that low down brown dog cheatin' bastard Cook, before he was eventually, at long last, finally given out.
The way it's going we might as well do away with the field umpires and let the players decide between themselves what on earth's going on.
Umpires only encourage sharp practice, underhand tactics, and bald faced cheating.
Or maybe we should go back to the Darell Bruce Hair glory days and just call whole thing off.
By the time Day 4 arrived, Pup was in no position to plug the dyke with his finger as the floodgates had by then well and truly opened, with runs, all 644 of them, flooding their way down to the coast of victory and out to a sea of ashes.
Did it not occur to him that he should have put himself on to bowl a few overs of his surprise wicket-taking left-arm dibbly-dobblers, or was the Shagger's Back playing up, or did he see it as a self indulgence that wouldn't go down well, given all that had backfired to date?
Little wonder he screamed out loud when he finished up his 2nd innings in the afternoon for a well-made 41; not enough, not nearly enough.
Just like in Adelaide, the match lost there and then to a nothing shot against a nothing ball.
Who, in their right mind, would be Captain?
Surely Day 5 was simply put on by the match promoters as an opportunity for a large mob of hopelessly pissed Poms to go completely stupid, there can be no other reasonable explanation; in any other game the mercy rule would have been invoked.
Of course the Royal Commissioners should be assembling as we speak to begin taking evidence.
Don't care if the letters patent are along the lines of the Royal Commission into The Bombing of Darwin, where even today they won't even reveal the list of witnesses, let alone a single word of the testimony.
But, then as now, the consequences and ramifications were widely known; people quietly lost their jobs or were subtly move sideways, as blame was apportioned in private.
The court jesters puportedly in charge of the game must be held to account, sacked, and the new lot, whoever they are, commanded to make damn well sure it never happens again, ever.
You can only hope it's going on, but with the Chairman and the Three Wise Men and The Board and The Punter all siging from the same hymn book as if nothing at all had happened; probably not.
With August in Colombo and Kandy now deemed to be a long way off, there's troubling unconfirmed talk of a couple of test matches in Bangladesh after the one day World Cup -- Straya is due to play them.
If it happens, that should give everyone a reasonably clear idea about where Straya stands viz-a-viz the rest of the real world.
It would concentrate the minds of the new powers-that-be when it comes to picking the next XI.
Winners are grinners, so the Poms can go please themselves as they try again, as they do, for world dominance.
The Empire strikes back.

The Mess in Marvelous Melbourne

2010-12-30T03:56:00.000-08:00

Loyal Supporters,

What a relief.
After The Mess in Marvelous Melbourne, my bloke becomes 43rd Captain of Straya.
And not before time.
For gawd's sake.
They didn't give him the captaincy of the Under-19's for nothing, and they knew then that he was already interested in girls.
That was ten years ago, so nothing's changed.
Born leader.
Soon after his first class debut, saw him a Sheffield Shield match at Newcastle No. 1 Ground batting with Mark Waugh when he launched a mighty fine on-drive off some hapless spinner that was still on the up as it cleared the ground's perimeter fence, bounced a few times across the netball courts, and ended up in Mullet Creek.
Lost ball.
Sold on MJ Clarke then and there.
He's currently averaging 21.4 since moving from No.5 to No.4 in the batting order, so must try harder.
Will he bat at 3 in Sydney, or leave it up to Mr Cricket, with the Token Muzzie at 5?
You have to worry about RT Ponting, at his age.
The Board now has a full seven months to give him the tap on the shoulder before the next test in Colombo or Kandy.
There can be no other course of action after losing the Ashes, not once, not twice, but thrice.
Giving the bloke another game on that track record would be difficult to justify.
Having lost all public confidence, it appears highly likely that there will be no dignified farewell match for the Punter.
Even from an ardent critic, have to say that that'd be a pity, but sometimes when the constellations collide you have no say in it.
Cricket is a hard game; the fools purportedly in charge of the caper can be even harder..."thanks for all the fish Ricky, now here's you pension".
Pup only needs to tonk a very large backs-to-the-wall ton in Sydney to silence the critics and seal the deal.
Just treat the bowling with the utmost of contempt and play all the trademark shots off the front foot, and jam the four inches of bat up the Pommy runter, for good measure.
A couple into the top deck of the MA Noble Stand off Swann would be a nice touch.
Can't be too much to ask, surely?

the choice is yours

2010-12-19T04:24:00.000-08:00

My Dear Chairman of the Board,

People keep saying that Pup is out of form, some, even calling for the bloke to be dropped for Boxing Day.
Outrageous thinking.
Can't for the life of me see it.
What are they on about?
So, he made a mistake and executed a really dumb shot in the first innings in Perth along with the rest of the top order, and was about to get set in the second innings when he somehow contrived to play on to an ol' fashioned nothing ball, on 20, and then freely called himself an idiot.
Who can blame him?
Never mind that the chronic dose of Shagger's Back precludes him from bowling his left arm dibbly-dobblers; old timers at the ground have been on the bush telegraph saying Michael did do some very handy work at point, throughout.
Can't be faulted in the field.
How easily people forget his second innings of 80 in Adelbrain.
Saw it with me own eyes from the Colin Egar Bar.
Are they trying to hold against him the fact that he got out at a critical match defining moment, for gawd's sake?
Or that Straya only needed to bat for about two and three quarters of an hour on the last day in Flat City to save the game before the deluge arrived?
That'd all be Pup's fault.
GS Chappell appears to think so -- going on his smarmy backlit appearance on Ch9 on the crystal bucket last night -- where he intimated that Clarkey was no longer the pea for the captaincy, and no one was really in the pod.
Really, Greg?
Is anyone in charge?
Then had to back-flip today, re-assuring the general public that MJ Clarke was going to be the next Australian captain, whether they liked it or not; an issue made more pressing by Punter's buggered pinkie.
Could call the weirdo Chappell brother a two-faced-cunt, but won't.
After the Abomination in Adelaide, winning by the length of the street in Perfect Perth was a welcome filip.
One-One becomes the promoters dream, and the opportunity for sharp practice increases exponentially.
The Selectors can meet in the MCG Members Car Park on the morning of the match for all anyone cares, and make no sense at all to anyone; they can do as they please.
So it's up to you.
The choice is yours.
Drop the useless loop, or make him Captain.

ten spinners since TGW

2010-12-13T02:11:00.000-08:00

Did note mid week that MJ Clarke has been silent on the matter after declining to the join the recent chatter about the ten players who have been picked for Straya as spinners since the retirement of The Great Warnie.
Probably because he forgot who they are.
And who can blame him?
How easy it is to forget:

Name Tests Played after TGW retirement Wkts Ave
SCG MacGill 4 10 65.10
GB Hogg 3 8 60.13
NM Hauritz 16 58 36.22
B Casson 1 3 43.00
CL White 4 5 68.40
JJ Krejza 2 13 53.23
BE McGain 1 0 --
SPD Smith 2 3 27.33
XJ Doherty 2 3 102.00
MA Beer -- -- --

How many are still playing first class cricket, then?

scenes of unspeakable horror

2010-12-08T15:34:00.000-08:00

Fellow Aghastees,

It was like watching a bright beacon as it suddenly, without warning, just disappeared with a final flicker over the horizon, signifying the loss of all hope of salvation.
Found myself on the deck outside the Colin Egar Bar at the southern end of Adelbrain Oval when it happened.
Waiting very patiently for stumps on Day Four with my 100th beer of the day in hand, when KP Pietersen bowled what would have been the second last ball of the day - a nothing ball - and MJ Clarke played a nothing stroke, somehow contriving to put a huge inside edge on it that could be heard resonating around the ground, which short leg duly trousered.
Never mind what happend before or after that moment.
Out for 80. Four down and a long, long way behind.
One brain explosion and it was game over in the blink of an eye.
Just at that instant, Cricket Australia sent me a text message saying "we're officially fooked".
Believed them, for once.
Mind you, did get to see Pup put together a tidy well-made half century between tea and stumps, and that was more than welcome relief after watching The Evil Empire bat for a two full days, and then some.
Still the best exponent of the late cut in the modern game, some lovely work against the spinner, leg side play, as usual, impeccable; the classical on-drive to a vacant field will always give you value for your shots, while he doesn't mind the odd straight hit that clangs into the sightboard.
But it was precious little consolation.
Could, but won't, take you through the Abomination in Adelbrain chapter and verse - nothing good would come of it given the utterly miserable woefulness of the entire experience; the torture was just too hideous.
Suffice to say that after Straya lost any chance of winning in the first 16 minutes of a five day match, the local fishwrap, The Advertiser, was moved to comment in the next day's edition:
"the pictureseque outlook at the Oval and the festive atmosphere of the opening day soon gave way to scenes of unspeakable horror".
With the Ridiculous Little Urn now safely locked up at Lords, surely the Chairman and the Three Wise Men must take the only honourable course of action available to them and sack themselves, after RT Ponting has fallen on his sword.

hammer'n'tongs

2010-11-29T03:17:00.000-08:00

Canine Fanciers,

There's something up with Pup.
Maybe playing hurt?
Only had to have had a look at him in the crystal bucket over the past five days.
MJC tried hard all week to hide his humanity.
Always keen on Day One on doing nothing at all in the field, constantly scouting for a position where the ball was consistently not going.
Might as well have stood under a shady gum tree.
Day Two, came out and put together a well made 9 in 81 minutes, before offering a gimmee to the Poms.
Obviously intent on just holding up an end...ran nothing more than a single until Mr Cricket forced him to make a four, all run!
Ambled rather creakily to the crease to make his ground at the end of that.
Spent Day Three on the massage table having his spine walked on by a 4'6" Thai massuese.
Day Four; the only time anyone spotted him, he was dressed in cotton wool at point or cow corner; a good look that.
Then did his best work on Day Five, contriving to grass a sitter at slip.
First he saw of it was when he looked down and it was spinning around on its axis at his feet.
What's more, his second shocker of the match.
Shaggers Back is as good a thing to blame it on than anything else.
A chronic injury in the true sense of the word; longstanding, lingering, loitering, incurable and inadvertedly but seriously aggravated when he started going hammer'n'tongs on Our Lara.
That's when he needed to hire a life coach.
Pup'll end up one day in the Compo Chair, and finish his career in a Jason Recliner.
Will he last long enough to see Punter fail to survive the workings of the razor gang after losing The Ridiculous Little Urn, yet again --- to take on the Captaincy, however briefly?
Do the fools allegedly in charge aka the Chairman and the Three Wise Men have a Plan B for anything, let alone the Ashes or the succession?

the idea of not doing anything

2010-11-25T02:40:00.001-08:00

Bleachermen,

It's a funny game, cricket.
On the strength of Sudsy's hat-trick, Bubbles' chances of playing in a test match this summer have just taken a critical nose dive.
Only faint hope is to take a bag in the Shield and replace Joke Johnno for Perth.
But, as it appears, while Cap'n'Cockhead remains as skipper, Poor Ol' Frenchy might as well put his baggy green in a glass case.
Shame, that.
Thought Pup hid himself very well in the outfield today.
Keen on the idea of not doing anything.

safely locked up at Lords

2010-10-13T16:59:00.000-07:00

Aghastees,

And so, it has come to this.
Straya drops to fifth in the test rankings, behind, guess who?
That's right.
Engerland.
Poms must be licking their puffy chops thinking they will have us like kippers for breakfast.
The Silly Little Urn safely locked up at Lords, without much risk of being disturbed.

ICC rankings for Test teams:
Ranking Team Matches Rating Points
1 India 34 130
2 South Africa 29 119
3 Sri Lanka 23 115
4 England 39 112
5 Australia 37 110
6 Pakistan 23 83
7 West Indies 21 79
8 New Zealand 25 78
9 Bangladesh 19 7

MJ Clarke certainly had an unhappy time, and could fairly be asked to shoulder much the blame for the Debacle in India; not a lot of centre wicket practice ahead of the Ashes with scores of 14,4,14, 3; managing to get himself stumped in the second innings in Banglaore without even knowing it.
And this at the venue where he made a century on debut.
Pup's test average has now dipped to 48.91.
The bloke is obviously looking for more responsibility than the Vice-Captaincy, so he can lead from the front.
In any other country, there would be an urgently convened Royal Commission, with the Captain and Selectors called as the star witnesses.
But, no, everyone will just continue on their merry way as if nothing had happened..."oh, well, you get that in India"...being the weakest of weak excuses.
Surely, surely, surely the buck must stop on the desk of Straya's Worst Captain in 22 years, RT Ponting?
Said it before, say it again; for how long can Cap'n'Cockhead survive on shaky ground as yet more underpinning slips away.
Warnie, the best Captain Straya never had, was quite right to have a mighty go at the shabby treatment Punter handed out to Uncle Horrie in Bangalore.
Ponting's defence? "what? I didn't do anything, yr Honour, honest".
Precisely the problem.
Lord, save us.

wept openly

2010-09-30T16:18:00.000-07:00

Disappointees,

"a bloody point".
As my former mother-in-law used to say.
A bloody point.
Amatuer mathmeticians describe it in football terms as the "slimest of margins".
You can't be done out of playing in the Grand Final by half a point.
And there's only one way to get a bloody point in the rugby league and that's via the courtesy of the bloody field goal.
Not that Balmain didn't use the device to get to the post on more than one occasion during the season.
But still, it's still a bloody point.
The scoreboard doesn't lie.
Can't argue.
Those who drifted into the ground on a whim remarked on how it was such a lovely balmy night for football.
The Olympic public transport system had been cranked up to full scale for the evening and everything - then as now, ten years on -- worked perfectly.
No waiting, no delay, anywhere, anytime.
Magnificent [but will no doubt be topped by Delhi].
Nicely seated in the SW corner just back from the corner flag with a tip top view of the southern in-goal; seats not plated in platinum, but pretty good for thirty bucks.
Found ourselves next to a very vocal Rabid Western Suburbs Fan.
We got on well; me yelling "c'mon Balmain", him yelling "c'mon Wests" or "c'mon Magpies", in the true spirit of the joint venture.
The first half was a curious affair; as the Good Lady Wife remarked drily just before the break "we've been robbed blind in the penalty count, you know" [5-0 as it turned out], then, just as she said it, the Tigers finally got one for inside the ten..
Suddenly its dawned on me why the St George defence is rated so highly -- they continuously play from an offside position with the connivance of the cheatin' Bamfords!
Nice work if you can get it.
And yet Balmain somehow led 12-6 at half time, while looking good about it.
The Dragons are a pretty dirty side too; one of the worst in fact, putting on cheap shots a plenty.
They've not had a terribly good track record down at The Tribunal, as you'll recall.
The deliberate knees into the back of Lote "wot I do guv" Tuquiri, while he was on the ground and defencless, was a prima facie case.
In my day, that was clearly a send-off offence, and yet in this day and age of weakness on the part of officialdom when it comes to clear cases of foul play, the Bamford's attention had to be drawn to the fact that Lote had copped it bad in the back door, by the Bamford upstairs!
Can't abide that.
Lord save us.
As the massive crowd roared with that peculiar sound of a rugby league crowd in full throat; could not help thinking that the forces of evil were conspiring against "us".
Still, there was nothing to complain about heading to the bar at the break.
The pack, as usual, aquitted themselves well, while the backs did enough -- almost -- but it was that sort of game from early on where there didn't appear to be any stand-out Tigers player.
It was always going to be hard to pick a man of the match.
Not looking for heroes, as there were none to find.
The Rabid Western Suburbs Fan spent a lot of the second half warning the Tigers in no uncertain terms about the dangers of allowing the opposition too much field position where they might get into a place where they might consider trying to pot a drop goal.
Everyone's jaw dropped when that strange freak Soward did just that in the 75th minute from a fair way out at a fair angle.
And that was that.
Game Over.
Kaput.
Balmain turned over to receive the gigantic tusk up the runter through no fault of their own.
The Rabid Western Suburbs Fan wept openly on the full-time hooter; there was no way he could hide his humanity or the tears streaming down his cheeks from his convulsive weeping.
It was a pretty raw scene among the sobbing Balmain fans all around, really.
Is this what football does to people??...crossed my mind.
Then we all went home, profoundly disappointed, perhaps even "shattered".
They could have just put "all played well" in the Best: column in the Wests Tigers scorebox in the Sunday fishwraps.
That would've been enough.
In the dug out, SC Sheens could be seen resting his chin comfortably in his hands, showing not a hint of emotion at the denoument.
The bloke is reputed to only ever having smiled once.
He would have -- some time later -- in his cups, scratched that one into the "we'll learn from our losses" side of the Coach's Ledger, signed it off, and closed the book.
Ducked my head into the Front Bar at The Local mid week as is my wont, to be told that the result was met with a general shaking of lowered heads among the afficiandos on the day.
The Philosopher, in a rare outburst, was reported to have railed against the Hare-Clarke-McIntyre-Lewis-Duckworth system as "a complete joke", and left it at that.
As they say in the classics, there's always next year.

ST GEORGE-ILLAWARRA DRAGONS 13. Tries: Nightingale, Smith. Goals: Soward (2). Field Goals: Soward (1).
WESTS TIGERS 12. Tries: Lui, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (2).
Crowd: 71, 212.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.

And so endeth the Winter Game wire for another year.
Thanks for all the outrageous suggestions, crazed comments, cock'd'up criticisms, downright abuse and drunken ramblings...
It's been fun.
There will be the occasional post on the Summer Game wire on the escapades of MJ Clarke and any first class cricket that may be witnessed first hand, so, until then, get a dog up ya.

The Fear

2010-09-22T06:21:00.001-07:00

Bleacherites,

Never in doubt.
Even if, yet a-bloody-gain, found my self reaching for the industrial strength heart pills, washed down with a few powerful snifters to stop the damnable thing missing a beat, settle the nerves, that sort of thing.
Not one to unduly bag a beaten opposition, but the Raiders were the least likely in the top eight for mine as they didn't have the overall class across the paddock all season and their young blokes were gripped by the fear of dropping their bundles in front of a gangbusters sell-out record home crowd, and absolutely mortified, when they duly did.
To wit, the Croker Kiddie; one of the most accurate and reliable goal kickers in the caper.
The look on the poor bloke's face when he shanked the penalty goal shot just wide from right in front of the black dot that would have to leveled the match at 26-all and pushed it into extra time, had "oh, joisus, even me mother is ashamed of me" written all over it.
Very pleasing to see Roycey Simmons took the advice to give Benji a wheelbarrow of footballs, to punch through the slot on the training paddock.
He hasn't kicked five from five in a while.
The Tigers have got to where they needed and wanted to be be via the circuitous route under the Hare-Clark-McIntyre-Duckworth-Lewis sytem, remembering that they faced the distinct possibility of being knocked out cold in week one.
There is no doubting Benji is in career best form five years on from just coming out of his rookie kiddie days, and while acres of newsprint devoted to stories about the mercurial brilliance of one man in the Balmain backline have been recycled as fish wraps, not nearly enough has been said or written about the Balmain forwards.
Under-rated, under-valued, though probably not under-paid, but over-performed.
It's been well known for a hundred years or so that forwards win games of rugby league, and backs, as always, can go please themsleves.
Perhaps the Tigers pack is unheralded on account of they do not boast a single huuuuuge South Islander amongst their numbers; only the Best Leb In The Game, a Pom, a few wizened journeymen [some now wearily consigned to the bench], a retiree from time to time in the form of The Great Skando [who, at last, seems to have retired, telling SC Sheens in no uncertain terms, "for gawd's sake, don't pick me this week, coach. you bastard"], a Bludnut and a Refrigerator.
Said it before, say it again, but if Ellis is not the best second rower going around in the comp then they'll be some hat eating going on, surely?
If Farah hasn't got the best football brain at dummy half of any of his contemporaries over the last five years, and yet still can't get a game for NSW; more felt in the gob.
Blokes like Gibbs, Fulton, Heighington are unashamed high class mercenaries, who play for good money, but are loyal to their paymasters to the last.
Galloway is a special head case.
And no-one wants wants a full-on shirt-front from The Refigerator, as you'd probably end up TPI.
No one can argue with that, and sensibly, no one does.
In the backs, the miracle reappearance of Lawrence after being counted out for the season with a purported broken jaw just two weeks previous, was, well, a miracle.
They need the Try Scoring Freak to do what he does best - score tries.
On paper the Dragons should win this week, and the bookies certainly see it that way - you can get luxury odds about the Tigers straight out - given the Saints line up is a pretty good one and the fact that they had a massive advantage in the points scored for and against, more than any other team in the comp by the length of the street, at the end of the regular season.
But if you could be bothered to drill down into the stats, most of those points were scored against weak teams, while the Dragons did tend to struggle against good relentless defensive outfits, who had some explosive power in the backs and at least one good finisher on the wing.
Lote 'wot'd I do, guv?' Tuqiri, anyone?
For mine, St George will be gripped by the fear that they won't even make the Grand Final after winning the Minor Premiership by a whisker, while the Tigers won't have anything of the sort that to contend with and really have nothing much to lose; as it was in the Miracle Year '05, everything, then and now, is just a bonus on a season well played, notwithstanding that another Winfield Cup would be a good thing to have in the trophy cabinet down on the Victoria Road.
It'll also be a very very interesting battle of tactics and strategy from two very old, very wily Super Coaches, who have no shortage of Premierships between them, to see who comes out on top.
Betting on my man, even though SC Sheens has not managed extra time all that well this season, but he would have learnt from that...
If it comes to that.
God Forbid.
With both clubs having huge supporter bases [as noted many times previously, you see Tigers fans, everywhere, every day, in all sorts of unusual places and situations] there should be a bumper crowd in, but you'd expect the Balmain/Western Suburbs conglomerate of supporters would shade the Dragons fans slightly in the attendance figures, giving Balmain something of a home ground advantage.
But not much, mind you.
They sold 35,000 seats in the club member's pre-sale by all reports, so should get about 60,000 in at a minimum, plus some walk up.
But, in breaking news, the senior bureaucrats who support Balmain at Shitty Rail have decided to make life difficult for St George fans by scheduling trackwork for Sutherland, Kogarah, Rockdale, Dapto, Wollongong and Thirroul.
If that goes ahead, the pressure on the event bus system will be enormous.
The Club Secretary would no doubt be madly shuffling the beads back and forth on the abacus working out the percentages on the gate receipts as his faithful assistant goes ching! ching! on the old back office cash register, all the time thinking, praying, dreaming, of the spectacular box office bonanza that is the premiership decider.
Tickets to the cheap seats are in hand; and cheap they are at just $30 a throw.
See if you can spot us on the telly.
We'll be the photogenic screaming delerious ones waving at the camera from our angle right on the try-line in the south-western corner of the ground, shouting lame stuff like "go you good things".
Was reminded this week of that wonderful work of art that appeared on the old brick wall barrier on top of the road bridge over the railway line at Petersham in the week before the '89 Grand Final, hand painted with a wide brush, in two foot high white letters:
"THERE IS NO FEAR LIKE THE FEAR OF FEAR ISELF, EXCEPT SIRRO"

CANBERRA RAIDERS 24. Tries: Harrison, Monaghan, Thurling, Tongue. Goals: Croker (4).
WESTS TIGERS 26. Tries: Heighington, Ellis, Tuqiri, Lawrence. Goals: Marshall (5).
At Canberra Stadium.
Crowd: 26,476. [Ground Record]

Craven.

For the record:
2nd Preliminary Final
St George Illawarra Dragons (Winner 1 Wk 1) v Wests Tigers (Winner Semi-Final 1)
Saturday 25 September 2010, 7:45pm AEST - ANZ Stadium, Sydney Olympic Park.
Dragons: 1. Darius Boyd 2. Brett Morris 3. Mark Gasnier 4. Matt Cooper 5. Jason Nightingale 6. Jamie Soward 7. Ben Hornby (c) 8. Neville Costigan 9. Dean Young 10. Michael Weyman 11. Beau Scott 12. Ben Creagh 13. Jeremy Smith
Interchange: 14. Nathan Fien 15. Trent Meriin 16. Matt Prior 17. Jarrod Saffy; Reserves: 18. Nick Emmett 19. Kyle Stanley 20. Jon Green 21. Luke Priddis.
Tigers: 1. Mitch Brown 2. Lote Tuqiri 3.Blake Ayshford 4. Chris Lawrence 5. Beau Ryan 6. Benji Marshall 7. Robert Lui 8. Todd Payten 9. Robbie Farah 10. Keith Galloway 11. Liam Fulton 12. Gareth Ellis 13. Chris Heighington
Interchange: 14. Ben Murdoch-Masila 15. Daniel Fitzhenry 16. Simon Dwyer 17. Bryce Gibbs; Reserves: 18. Mark Flanagan 19. Andrew Fifita.

only themselves to blame

2010-09-15T05:52:00.000-07:00

Coronary Arterists,

Being involved in perhaps the best finals match in living memory is, of course, no consolation whatsoever to the losers, is it?
No sooner than Anasta had potted the drop goal from behind the 33-yard line with mere seconds left on the clock to level the thing up at 15-all, than a message chattered through on the ticker-tape on the bush telegraph in the corner of the loungeroom from a long-time student of the game and hard-bitten Balmain fan, which simply read "all the blood has drained from my face".
Never have the heart pills and a large snifter come in more handy than after that, as the arteries began to twitch.
But they had only themselves to blame.
Once again, Mighty Tiges should have been easily up by 30+ points at half time, instead of 10-2, given the number of times they went into the in-goal; all disallowed by referees who should be taken out the back and lined up against a wall and shot at the end of the season, and then we'll start with new ones next year.
Joisus!
Even Bryce Gibbs went over after not having visited the try line since the '05 Grand Final, for gawd's sake, only to be denied by some completely blind imbecile Bamford.
Two soft tries to Eastern Suburbs late in the second half didn't help matters, as punters moved towards the edge of their seats.
Everyone was wondering, as the end of the second period of extra-time loomed, what on earth was going to happen.
The match ref dived for the rule book to find it was a case of just play on until someone scores.
There were no less than eight unsuccessful field goal attempts in extra time, which only goes to prove the "get one when you can get one..." adage.
With Benji off the field for the bulk of extra time and the team having run out of interchange and finding themselves with only 12 men on the paddock, a grim outcome looked likely.
Crikey!
Under those harsh conditions, it was little wonder that they were rolled over and bummed by an intecept try in the 101st minute.
There was some brilliant stuff in there from both sides for a great spectacle; a promoter's dream, but the intrinsic problem for Balmain supporters was and is that in the end the scoreboard doesn't lie.
In the final paralysis, it was Benji's kicking boots, or lack of Mum's boot polish thereon, that was the difference between two sides that had otherwise played within a cigarette paper of each other.
Former Balmain coach Warren "The Wok" Ryan, who usually speaks arrant but well thoughout nonsense, did make some salient points on the radio post mortem the next day re: where the Tigers were going wrong at the pointy end of the season, chief among them "the Tigers were always going to take a huge gamble by going into the finals with a sub-standard goal kicker. I've been saying for months, despite all his magic&brilliance, Benji Marshall's goal kicking is simply not up to first grade standard, and I just don't know why. I can only think that he doesn't spend nearly enough time sending them sailing over the black dot in practice".
That's probably somewhere where someone like Royce Simmons could step in; feeding footballs to him as he kicks 25 goals an hour on the training paddock, while quenching his own nervous thirst with a bucket of beer.
The season's number one coach killers can keep the blame to themselves for choosing the very rough end of the pineapple.
To think, after meekly giving up second spot on the ladder in the last minor round when, if they had not lost to Souths, twice, would have won the wonderful JJ Giltinan Shield; and then came out and lost by a whisker in the first week of the finals, when a win under the crazy Hare-Clark-McIntyre-Duckworth-Lewis system would have seen them propelled to week three on the back of the Penrith loss, anyway; but as it was they had to rely on Manly getting beaten on the Sunday, or be the first top four team to go out in week one in many a long year.
And as it is, they are condemned to playing Canberra, on the wastelands in Canberra, in a sudden death final, and then, presumably, having to beat the white-hot in-form side St George-Illawarra, to make it through to the Grand Final, against either the Titans, Easts again, or Penrith.
Good Lawd, help me!
The prospect is not very palatable, and it looks for all the world like a road too far, especially as they had the very real chance to be just one win out of the decider and avoiding the Dragons in the process, as if that needs mentioning again.
Ever the optimist speaking here - but if they do somehow manage to get that far -- you'd back them from here to breakfast, surely?
However, just to make matters that little bit worse, at the traditional Tuesday naming of the teams for the NRL, SC Sheens was forced to pick a 21 man squad for a 13 man game, to cover all contingencies.
What with McKinnon out, again, at full back, Benji in doubt with, you guessed it, a knee, and Ayshford, according to the club doctor, coming down with a suspected case of glandular fever after getting too kissy kissy nice nice with some floosie post-match.
Yaaargh!
As SC Sheens has no hair left on his scone after this season, you'd have to be left wondering what else he has left to pull out.
The short and curlies, perhaps?
There's been no shortage of dead set miracles in football over the years, but if the Tigers manage to pull this one off, it'd surely have to take the biscuit, wouldn't it?
The Great Skando's work as the Balmain forwards coach -- and a playing coach from time to time, to boot -- has been shockingly under-rated all year.
As he was quoted saying on reflection at the recovery session, "while there's still a game, a chance, there's hope, good hope, you watch".

WESTS TIGERS 15. Tries: Ryan, Ayshford, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (1). Field Goals: Farah (1).
SYDNEY ROOSTERS 19. Tries: Anasta, Pearce, Kenny-Dowall, Goals: Carney (3). Field Goals: Anasta (1).
After extra-time.
Full time: 15-15.
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 33,315.

There's no better example of going nowhere in September, when you kick the princely sum of precisely no goals whatsoever in The Championship Quarter in two consecutive finals matches.
That's close to an hour of football with nothing, read me right here, nothing doing.
What the?
They haven't called the Championship Quarter the Championship Quarter since time immemorial for nothing, on account of the team that kicks the most goals in the Championship Quarter in the Premiership Decider, more often than not, wins.
The Championship.
The Flag.
It's not hard, is it, the concept?
The long and the short of it is they have only themselves to blame.
Squandering the five goal lead they had late in the second stanza after cruising into the long break was a classic case of choking for mine.
Even Greg Norman could see that.
Not enough goal kickers, either.
After weeks of deliberate going where there were 9-11 individual goal kickers every game; Swans could only come up with six when it counted.
Found myself humming, to the tune of to dream the impossible dream "to lose, the unloseable game" well before full time.
Oh well.
Finished up.
Up in smoke.
Gorn.
Just like that.
All done.
And dusted.
Cactus.
Can think of only two players in my memory in any code, who each played more than 200 games for their respective clubs, who quite rightly earned the middle name moniker of "Never Played A Bad Game", and that'd be the former Balmain stalwart and captain in the late 80's, Wayne "Never Played A Bad Game" Pearce, and the lately Swans captain Brett "Never Played A Bad Game" Kirk, who both maintained their hard earned reputations right through to the end of their careers.
Neither of them were superstars, but they go down in the annals as dead set champions.
Just a shame that Pearce never won a premiership despite two grand final appearances.
Kirk got one in '05, and he would have to be happy with that, despite the cruel saying that he's sat on his laurels ever since; but that would be a touch harsh for someone who consistently never got best on ground, and went nowhere in the Brownlow year after year, yet still frightened the shit out of opposition's on account of his remarkable doggedness as a centre-man and his astonishing work rate.
Kirky will probably spend the summer in some ashram somewhere contemplating his navel, along with the meaning of football in one's life, as he gazes out to sea to see if he can see Nirvana.
Then he'll come back and lead the monks cheer squad in the stands, every week, home and away.
Everybody is dying too see the great man in sandals and a saffron robe, with a Swans beanie perched upon his bald head.
All power to his oars.
No doubt he would have led the Mad Monday leadership group in a round of group hugs and meditation, before the monks ordered the frosty foaming jugs of Toohey's New, and then mulled over a season that exceeded expectations, but one that wasn't particularly well handled in the denoument.
You would have thought buggering it up when it counted would have been high on the agenda, but hasn't everyone done that at some stage?
Some new talent was unearthed in the course of the year for a change, and you'd think there would be more retirees to come, The Great Irishman and The Great Goodes Train chief among them.
If the Swans can buy a good new full-back and half-back, another ruck-rover, keep the full-forward they have fully fit, and pick well at the draft, they could be anything [or conversely, nothing] in 2011.
SC Roos, the "accidental coach" who never in his wildest dreams thought he'd be able to make a career out of it, was admitted to the Swans pantheon a long time ago, and can comfortably go to his grave with the Super Coach appelation; only those who win Premierships are entitled to the Super Coach title, and like a life peerage, no one can take that away from him.
It'll be interesting to see how he now goes with the under-10's, and who he can pull through to the top grade in the next 8-15 years.
Long term is always a good thing to think about in theory.
All power to his oars.
The rest of the season now becomes merely academic of course, but as the Good Lady Wife remarked..."if it's any consolation, Craves, the Saints will swallow the 'Dogs whole in week three, and probably go on to win the thing".
No, not really, love, but thanks, anyway.
As they say in the classics, 'there's always next year'.

WESTERN BULLDOGS: 3.4, 5.6, 8.9, 11.11 (77). Goals: Hall 4, Giansiracusa 3, Addison, Hooper, Grant, Murphy.
SYDNEY: 3.4, 8.4, 8.9, 10.12 (72). Goals: Bradshaw 3, Shaw 2, Goodes 2, Bolton, McGlynn, Jetta.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 39,596.

beyond belief

2010-09-08T04:16:00.000-07:00

Screaming believers,

Anyone who has even casually followed the Swans this season could believe that they got away with being thumped 0-5 goals in the Championship Quarter and still won the game.
There must have been a moment approaching three quarter time when all the Swans people at the ground found themselves self-flagellating with their merch at the prospect of a perfectly acceptable season being undone in a whimper in the team's third goaless Championship Quarter this year.
Beyond belief, really.
Only when Our Boy From Burma sacked the hapless Double Blue in the goal square minutes from time and the Bamford had no option but to rule the tacklee was in infringement of the rules and blew his whistle for "ball", did anyone take the result of the game as the gospel truth.
Thank the Good Lord Joisus the scoreboard doesn't lie when they press the button marked "final siren".
The irony is that someone should tell Coach'n'Horses that six goals in the opening stanza might be all well and good, but a quarter of football does not a match make.
Surprised myself on becoming a quivering mass of nerve-endings in the last quarter, but shouldn't have been, after screaming at a ridiculously huge flat screen crystal bucket for a full third quarter as the Swans were totally distracted from their usual game, completely sucked in by Carlton into a brand of football that looked for all the world like an under-7's "swarm", where there's a scrimmage and a ball up every half a minute.
Completely lost the plot.
SC Roos would have been furious.
Looked it.
Swans build their game on handball to the loose man and a good kick to the uncontested mark, patiently staking out territory, before getting in front of goal.
So, it's ugly, but it works.
It was plain for all to see that Plan B wasn't a happening thing, and why fix something if it isn't broke, in any case?
Coach Longmire still has a lot to learn.
Little wonder Carlton were dead set filthy at losing.
Sydney should have enough in the kit bag to out play the Dogs, again, in week two.
It won' take much niggling from The Goodes Train to make BBB Hall's brain implode like some kind of Black Hole, given the bad man's performance last week, and narrow escape at the tribunal.
Not at all convinced about the wisdom of playing Daniel "Ol' Crock" Bradshaw in a semi-final, for gawd's sake, when he's been in the rehab ward and out of the game for so long.
You would have thought the first and last requirement for players going around in finals is match fitness, and he certainly aint got that.
Same goes for the injury-fragile "In Like" McGlynn.
In any case, who do you drop out of the current 22 to make way for that stepping-on-eggshells pair?
Can't think of anyone off the top of my head who deserves to be omitted for someone wrapped in cotton wool after a five game winning streak late season purple patch.
Surely they can't be thinking along the lines of a 'last in, first out' policy, as Dennis-Lane and the Jetta Kiddie are having the time of their lives.
The yoof .v. experience conundrum comes into play, yet again.
That'd be up to brighter minds than me on the match committee to decide, and good luck to them
SC Roos and Cap'n'Kirk live to fight another day, which can't be a bad thing for ol' times sake.
If the antics they got up to together after the game are any indication, who knows what they'll do to each other if they win this week, and find themselves one game out of the Grand Final?

SYDNEY: 6.6, 11.8, 11.11, 14.15 (99). Goals: Dennis-Lane 4, Bevan 3, Shaw 2, Jack, White, Goodes, Jetta, O'Keefe.
CARLTON: 4.3, 7.8, 12.12, 13.16 (94). Goals: Walker 3, Waite 3, Warnock 2, Garlett 2, Henderson, Murphy.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 41,596.

Ducked my head into the Front Bar at The Local mid-week and just said one word "Mighty Tiges", only to be greeted with a general shaking of heads in dismay that Balmain had limply given up second place on the ladder when the guaranteed double chance was there for the taking.
Beyond belief, really.
With so much on the line, the local drinkers found it hard to fathom why they played so badly in the first half; all the dropped ball and other silly mistakes and plain spastic penalties given away, and that's not to mention the softest two tries scored against anyone all season very early on in proceedings, the first 11 minutes in fact, to find themselves well and truly behind the eight ball, only to cop a gigantic tusk up the runter in the form of a field goal to make it 13-0 down before the half-time hooter!
The students of the game were still finding that a difficult one to work out, while the old fashioned drunks were just dumbfounded, as usual.
After getting a Saturn rocket up them at half time from SC Sheens, Tigers came out in the second half with quite a bit more steel to the backbone to score two good tries off the bell, to be just a point behind, yet never looked like winning.
Talk of the lunatic 77th minute penalty goal aroused yet more shaking of heads among the imbibers, and then some gnashing of teeth, soothed only, days after the event, by a deep draft of the schooner that's to hand.
The Philosopher was blunt on the matter:
"well, that's typical Titans for you, isn't it? You cannot afford to let them continue to have the lead with 20 minutes to go, no matter how small the margin, as you will always find it dreadfully difficult to get it back".
Otherwise, it appeared or all intents and purposes to be situation normal, with the forwards getting on with it and the backs doing the job.
Go figure.
Current form is impossible to read across the top eight, given that it's all over the shop like a mad dog's breakfast.
On paper, Balmain should do Eastern Suburbs like a hot dinner.
Should have more strike power in the light artillery to out-point 'em, while the forwards should have little difficulty wrapping up the Roosters pack.
Should being the operative word.
Wade "I can't spit six metres, Your Honour" McKinnon back at full-back will add a measure of safety and security in the last line of defence, while Fulton's return will no doubt add the other half of the starch to the second row, and he's a perfect foil for That Pom Ellis.
The selection of the SFS at the finals home ground is a curious, but ultimately sensible one.
Leichhardt Oval would have to have been the obvious first pick, but with 20,000 capacity at best, the Club Secretary, flanked by a phalanx of bean counters and nut crackers in the back office, would have made it very clear to the board that a 45,500 full house potential at SFS is a much better deal on the turnstiles.
To add the curioisty, SFS is also the Roosters home ground, so both teams are playing at home, if that makes any sense.
With Balmain hosting the home final and having first dibs on the ground, they have locked the Roosters out of the SFS [even though Easts administrative offices are actually in the ground], and put in security guards to deal with the problem of football spies.
Easts have labelled the move as "paranoid".
Whatever.
If you can't get 2nd, 3rd on the premiership table isn't a bad option; in theory anway under the strange Hare-Clark-McIntyre-Duckworth-Lewis finals system, the Tiges can't be knocked out in the first week, and a win and the unlikely event of a Penrith loss would see them sail straight through to week three under a wet sail, one win out of the Grand Final.
At least SC Sheens doesn't have to carry through with the threat he made the day he extended his contract to the end of next season on the back of a paper napkin in some cafe in Chiswick earlier in the year that he would retire at the end of this season if the team he had didn't make the top eight.
The side he's got on the park is good enough to win the thing, but only, it seems, on "their day".
While SC Sheens is busy working on the game plan, Messrs Folkes and Simmons would have been reaching into the back of their complex football brains to coach some more of those beautiful set plays on the training paddock this week.
They know, better than anyone in the caper, that strength, speed, and surprise is the secret to finals football.

GOLD COAST TITANS 21. Tries: Harrison, Zillman, Gordon. Goals: Prince (4). Field Goals: Rogers (1).
WESTS TIGERS 18. Tries: Heighington, Ellis, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (3).
At Gold Coast Stadium.
Crowd: 26,103.

a hard road to hoe & a saloon passage

2010-09-01T05:31:00.000-07:00

Rabid Loyalists,

And so, after a winter of comfortable-enough content, we come to the pointy end of the season.
But first things first.
The result of the Collingwood-Hawthorn match was so obviously rigged in a crude attempt to diddle Sydney out of a home final, it wasn't funny.
Not even remotely funny.
Why didn't the stewards call for the betting sheets?
Where are the calls for a Royal Commission into the bare-faced scandal?
With the Collingwood Mafia running the show, it was no skin off their nose that, in the end, the Hawks got the rough end of the pineapple from the Swans, and were despatched to Subiaco in the first week of the finals.
Of course, if Collingwood had won the game, Sydney could have lost to the Bears in Brisbane, and still hosted a home final.
On being informed, the GLW simply remarked "farking hell!".
As it was, it came down to a simple equation: Sydney wins = home final, Sydney loses = MCG final...no other permuations.
Armed with that knowledge, the Coach'n'Horses made sure the game plan was precisely written, while SC Roos was off doing what he has been doing best behind the scenes in the last half of the season - putting a rocket up those playing in reserve grade, taking it upon himself to coach the rookies, and telling them where to get a good breakfast with the caveat "there will be papers in there, son. don't read 'em."
And the pay off has been perfectly timed.
For the first time this seson, Malceski eschewed the long sleeved jumper in favour of the regular short sleeved tunic, no doubt a nod to the tropical conditions at the Gabba.
Probably wound up best on ground, although the Canadian Tall Timber in Mike Pyke could easily lay claim to man-of-the-match as well, as he found himself half a foot over the top in the ruck everytime, and got close to 100% of the hit outs.
The ol' rah rah boy even got a few kicks and took some good marks in general play.
Little wonder they stitched him up to a new contract mid-week, with the sharks from the Gold Coast on the lookout out for a ruckman, circling.
Pleasing to note that Malceski has earned selection in the long list for the All Australian Team, while the odds on favourite Pretty Boy Hannebery picked up the Rising Star Gong.
Minor rewards for seasons well done.
SC roos will not countenance any comparison to the Miracle Year 2005.
Quite right too.
As he points out, it's easy to forget the Swans won the flag in the Miracle Year from fourth on the ladder.
Winning it from fifth is a different bottles of mussels altogether.
Going into the finals on the back of a four game winning streak means that winning in week one would constitute a late season purple patch, but then to win three more, all away, with the guarantee that you will come up against a top four side in the last two games to win the Premiership, and it's apparent that that's a very hard road to hoe.
As The Philosopher, forever the pessimist, puts it "probability is always be against you. winning 8 on the trot's slim on the sliding scale. the longer you go on winning the more prone you are to the 'due for a loss' syndrome"
The Goodes Train has a longer memory, harking back to 2003, when the Swans also had a nice mix of yoof and experience and a good bunch of junior players, who are now the senior players [those that hung on and lasted the distance that is, or what's left of them], and made the finals in 4th that year too, against all expectations, and then fell at the penultimate hurdle.
Aiming to go one better, and then give the game away.
Look at the scorebox and the young kiddies in the side kicked nine of the 16 goals, among the 12 individual goal kickers.
Five goals to two behinds in the Championship Quarter will win you any game of football every time.
It's not complicated, is it?

BRISBANE LIONS 3.2 6.5 6.7 10.8 (68). Goals: Brennan 2, Proud, Staker, Adcock, Polkinghorne, Power, Hanley, Banfield, Collier.
SYDNEY 4.1 6.4 11.9 16.10 (106). Goals: Jack 3, Dennis-Lane 3, Goodes, Meredith, J Bolton, Kennedy, McVeigh, Jetta, Malceski, O'Keefe, Shaw, Reid.
At Brisbane Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 24,789.

SC Sheens is a certified grand master at dragging a fishy-smelling red herring across the path, when it suits his purposes.
Witness him wheeling Benji out for the press mid-week last week, where Benji swore black-and-blue, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die, that he was going to reign in the jink, the weave and the step and take a more sensible approach to his attacking football.
And what does he do?
Blows away the smoke and mirrors to play an absolute blinder, featuring, at it's very best, you gessed it, the jink, the weave, the step
Brilliant!
Had a hand or a foot in everything that went on in the backline.
Only goes to prove that he's been craftily building up for the finals for the best part of a month.
Fitter than ever and has also put on a few kilo's in order to get down to final business.
"Come and get me".
If Ellis is not the best second rower going around in the comp, then blow me down and tickle me with a feather.
Can't think of a much better one since '05.
Found myself too slow out of the blocks on Sunday morning and the 445 bus timetable conspiring against me to make it to Leichhardt Oval.
They are my excuses, anyway.
Probably a good thing too in retrospect, as 20,000 in at the Spiritual Home is less than two thousand short of the ground record and downright uncomfortable; 16-17-18 is very squeezie at the best of times.
Got no further than The Local.
Where the usual suspects were arrayed along the Front Bar, the big bastard brown brothers, the odd student of the game, a few reprobates, a couple of old fashioned drunkards, and The Philosopher sitting in his usual corner nursing this week's favoured tipple - a vodka & tonic with a twist of lemon.
Marshall's first try of the match was without doubt the best of the season in terms of ingenuity, opportunism and execution.
Forgot to mention, there was also an art critic in the bar.
He kept on yelling out as the first try was being scored "oh, the hands! the hands! oh! the hands!", in an obvious reference to the number of passes made conveying the ball to the in-goal, and how it became a thing of beauty in its own right.
The brown brothers were slapping each other on the back, nodding and winking and saying "not bad for a Kiwi, eh, bru?"
The Tigers pack can mix it with any other, no matter how big they are -- you wouldn't want to meet Todd "the Refrigertor" Peyton in a dark alley -- while the backs will out-razzle and out-dazzle all the centre-three-quarters in the caper.
A win against the Titans (a) in the last game of home and away will see the Tiges finish in second, with the minor premiership now out of reach.
That'd be good form on the way in, and the saloon passage afforded [in theory anyway] by the weird Hare-Clarke-McIntyre-Duckworth-Lewis finals system to the teams finishing one and two -- clean through to week three.
The September prospects are therefore looking bright.
The smart money certainly thought so after this week's flood of money at the books on Balmain, who have got under the bagman's radar in recent weeks.
Odds slashed in half across the board.
The Philosopher remained mute throughout the match, as is his wont.
When pressed by the brown brothers after the game for his opinion on the Marshall performance, the sage remarked:
"He'll do. If they can keep the Kiwi and & That Pom fit, they'll lift the Winfield Cup."
Wise words that are hard to argue with.

WESTS TIGERS 26. Tries: Marshall (3), Farah, Fifita. Goals: Marshall (3).
MELBOURNE STORM 14. Tries: Hoffman, Isa, O'Neill. Goals: Smith (1).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 20,168.

yoof and experience

2010-08-25T18:14:00.000-07:00

True Believers,

Been on my sick bed this week, soh'been barely able to pick up a pen, let alone wrap my sore head around the tumultuous events of the weekend.
Suffice to say, it was more entertaining to watch the Swans go round on the crystral bucket than a bunch of self-appointed boffins and pointy-heads totting up the complete range of entirely inexplicable numbers, for no result.
At least in football, the scoreboard doesn't lie.
It's only taken them all season, but for the first time Sydney finally got the mix of yoof and experience completely right.
Trent "Our Man From Burma" Dennis-Lane found the radar, the Jetta Kiddie found his feet in senior company, Son o' Gary Jack has been more or less on song all season, while Pretty Boy Hannebery is now a clear favourite with the books to win the AFL Rookie of the Year Award, while Reece "Rick" Shaw and Jesse "James" White continue to be hungry in a forward line without an obvious target.
Combine that with old workhorses of the likes of Kennelly, Bevan, Bolton, McVeigh et al doing the business as usual, and its always going to be a winning combination.
If they can play like that through to Mad Monday, then who knows what's possible in September.
The Goodes Train's only job on the night was to annoy the shit out of BBB Hall, which he accomplished with aplomb, spoiling anything the came his way and delivering the odd little rabbit punch to the ruffian's solar plexus whenever they came into contact.
Fitting that they picked out The Great Brett "Never played A Bad Game" Kirk to boot the final goal of the match in his swansong at the G
Did like The Great Mickey O's mid week assessment of Cap'n'Kirk's career:
“For a guy who can't run that quickly, who can't jump, mark, or kick, who's not that strong; geez, he's a pretty good footy player though. He's one of the best and I'm proud to call him my mate”.
A classic example, if ever there was one, of a player lacking in natural ability and talent who made a name for himself and achieved greatness through sheer determination and intestinal fortitude.
No one can argue with 238 games and 96 goals in 11 seasons, after coming into the big league as pick #40 in the '98 draft.
An ornament to the game who has long been admitted to the pantheon.
Vale the club's spiritual leader, who will no doubt go on to find Nirvana in retirement.
As for SC Roos, he effectively retired weeks ago when he started tearing up game plans, and as a bloke who doesn't stand on ceremony or sentimentality, didn't appear to care much that it was his last time in the dug out.
Entirely clear that The Coach'n'Horses has taken over the top job and implemented his own way of doing things, to wit, always try to make a smart start out of the blocks with points on the board, reassess where you are at quarter time, and then be prepared to switch to Plan B at any stage.
Seems Sydney will more or less finish in fifth or sixth place, barring any major accident against the Bears in Brisbane this weekend, for a single home final, but without the double chance.
Shame that that final has to be played at the Western Paddock due to contractual arrangements, when everyone would far prefer the Cricket Ground.
For once this season they'd have 'em hangin' from the rafters at the G, while they'll struggle to half-fill the Olympic Stadium at the inflated ticket prices they will no doubt charge for the finals and no free public transport thrown in.
Call me an old fashioned forever hopeful and an idiot optimist if you like, but as fanciful as it may sound, a Collingwood/Sydney quinella to make the Grand Final is not the roughest of chances and very well priced at the current 50/1.
"yeah sure, right" said the Good Lady Wife, always the pragmatist.
But, that'd be one for the true believers...

SYDNEY: 4.4, 10.6, 13.10, 17.12 (114). Goals: Dennis-Lane 4, Jack 2, Bolton 2, McVeigh 2, Bevan 2, Jetta 2, Kirk 2, White.
WESTERN BULLDOGS: 5.1, 6.3, 9.7, 10.10 (70). Goals: Hudson 2, Eagleton 2, Hall 2, Grant 2, Gilbee, Jones.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 36,554.

The Mighty Tigers pick up yet another get-out-of-jail-free card!
Who would have thought that the Burt Kiddie of Parramatta, perhaps the most reliable goal kicker in the caper, lining up a penalty goal shot from pretty much in front with 26 seconds left on the clock to push the match in extra time with Eels having all the momentum and the season to play for, would have shanked it just wide of the uprights?
Once again a heart-in-the mouth first half for Balmain fans as they bombed at least four tries, conjouring up every way possible to mess up a four-pointer, from just dropping the ball stone cold to passing the thing clean into touch in the first 20 minutes, and crossing the line twice only to have the tries disallowed on the say-so of some dodgy Bamford, and then let in the softest opposition try in the shadows of half time.
Joisus.
That said, amid all the chaos, there were a couple of brilliantly coached set plays in there that would have easily made the "try of the year" highlights reel, if only they came off.
Although it might not be immediatelyy apparent to the casual observer, it appears more and more like SC Sheens is playing a very clever percentage game here, working out the exact chances of a set play succeeding and putting it out there in match conditions; if it doesn't come ff, too bad, all the good if it does, and if more succeed than fail, then you'd have to be in with a tip-top chance of winning the game every time.
Takes a very large football brain to do that.
SC Sheens hasn't had a side that he can try that trick with for five years, but it worked back then, so why not now?
The forwards again did very well to out muscle the big mob of brown brothers in the Eels pack, laying a solid latform for the backs to their magic, with Benji getting the mojo working in the jink, step, and weave department.
His best game in a month or so, and the goal kicking boots at least have a patina of polish on them.
Anything could happen this Sunday as the Tigers take on the Dirty Rotten Cheatin' Mexicans at the Spiritual Home of Balmain rugby league.
How do you prepare for game against Melbourne who are entirely unpredictable given they have absolutely nothing to lose, or gain, apart from the possibility of theiving two premiership points off a side sailing towards the top of the table.
Despite the stoush for the top four remaining very tight indeed, Balmain at this late stage would have to a shoe-in for the double chance - or at least the double chance in theory, under the plain weird Hare-Clarke-McIntyre-Duckworth-Lewis finals system the NRL still insists on employing, against all advice to the contrary.
No doubt the Club Secretary, having flipped the abacus and done the permutations on possible play-off match-ups would have been dipping into the Injured Players Benevolent Fund to have a punt, having noticed that the books have wound the Tigers/St George Grand Final quinella back into a narrow third line of favouritism; a special at the still juicy odds of 8/1.
Now, that'd be one for the true believers...

PARRAMATTA EELS 18. Tries: Inu, Horo, Mitchell. Goals: Burt (3).
WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Ryan (2), Lawrence, Fifita. Goals: Marshall (2).
At Parramatta Stadium.
Crowd: 19,854.

"even a third grader can work out the Premiership ladder"

2010-08-18T04:07:00.000-07:00

Thrillseekers,

Joisus!
The Mighty Tiges are the quintessential coach killers, aren't they?
Fancy bombing no less than four - that's right, four - dead-set certain tries in the first ten minutes of the match, and then gifting a hapless opposition who have been all at sea for the best part of a month, two tries before half time off the back of really stupid penalties that not even a team representing the Spastic Centre would dream about giving away.
Surely, SC Sheens, at his age, would have been down at Centrelink on Monday morning looking for rent assistance to hire purchase his new toupe.
That said, Balmain do show that there is still some room for spectacularly speculative football in an age of conformity and political correctness, as a good mate put it, "at least some crazy ideas are allowed to get out of the box".
It's a view of things that's also widely admired in the Front Bar down at The Local, where the Philosopher, when you can get a word out of him as he ponders his form guide and brandy&dry, thinks Balmain are by far and away the best team in the caper to watch in aesthetic terms, despite, or perhaps because of, their unorthodox methods and willingness to chance the arm, have a stab at an unsual idea, try out a freak set play just for the sheer sake of it, which, he suspects is all the work of SC Sheens as the gears in his brain crunch and mesh to determine the probability of risk versus reward.
The Philospher reckons all this pulling out of tufts of hair is just show on the coach's part.
The Penrith coach knows what going on, as he admitted on interview after the game, "I was just out-coached in the end. It's as simple as that".
No kidding, Matt?
There's no doubt the Tigers pack has been on fire in recent weeks, with the props and the second row hammering the advantage line in the traditional softening up period and handing out plenty of "don't argues" and "how's your father's" on the way through, to the point where Todd "The Refrigerator" Peyton, Bludnut Galloway, and Man Mountain Heighington are tuckered out after the first 20 minutes, and pretty much buggered by half time...but not to worry...the Charging Fifita and the Great "Ol' Man River" Skando are there on the bench to take up the slack in the second half.
Not to mention That Pom Ellis, who can go all day, is playing out of skin, and is tougher by half than any other forward going around in the comp.
His two four-pointers this game were by far and away the most outstanding forward's busting barreling barnstorming tries scored by anyone in any team this season, leaving no end of defenders upended in his wake.
On that platform, it was only a matter of time until the backs opened the flood gates..
The Best Leb in The Game has been working assiduously all year on being the premier dummy half in the caper.
And that's not counting his uncanny ability to pot the field goal when no one is looking, or expecting it; least of all his own team.
Farah is working on the SC Sheens theory that "it's always good to get a field goal when you can get one one account of you can't always get one when you need one".
And the one he scored here was a classic example; kicked off a threep'ny bit and sailing sweetly over the black dot to surprise even the touch judges.
Little wonder then that Balmain are the leading exponents of the field goal this season.
Something that could come very much in handy in close encounters in September.
Can't remember which coach it was who said mid-week that "even a third grader can work out the Premiership ladder", so the Club Secretary would have noted that Balmain are now a single point on for&against difference out of second place on the table, two wins from the top.
The critical importance and the true horror of those two completely inexplicable losses to Souths has only just dawned on the Sec and the denizens of the Back Office.
Still, the beancounters would be rubbing their hands in glee as the dollar coins spilled out of the turnstiles with the best crowd of the year at the No.3 home ground.
South Western Sydney does like a winner.
A quick whiz of the beads on the abacus reveals the minor premiership is still not mathematically out of the question, however slim and problematical the prospect, with the tight, tough and testing run home of Parramatta [a], Farkin' Cheatin' Melbun [h] and Titans [a] to come.
On interview after the match, TP Ellis was talking up the prospect of a Miracle Year 05 repeat, Cap'n'Farah was visibly relieved at just being guaranteed a top eight spot for the first time since 05, while SC Sheens had no opinion on the question and nothing to offer on the subject.
As he would.

WESTS TIGERS 43. Tries: Ellis (2), Fifita (2), Farah, Lawrence, Lui. Goals: Marshall (7). Field Goals: Farah (1).
PENRITH PANTHERS 18. Tries: Gordon, Jennings, Pritchard. Goals: Gordon (3).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 17, 208.

Found myself forced to reach for a fistful of heart pills and a schooner of Drambuie at three quarter time.
This game in particular, and this team in particular, are not for the faint-hearted or those of a nervous disposition.
You just have to look at the margins in the score box.
3 points, 3 points, 3 points, 9 points.
Never mind the 10 lead changes.
After settling down on the final siren, told myself that it didn't need over-analysing, because in the final paralysis, the only really concrete thing to come out of it was confirmation of just how evenly matched the bottom four in the top eight are, and how they will be unmercilessly spanked and then eaten alive by the top four, who are a class apart, very early on during the pointy end of the season.
SC Roos spent the last few minutes of the game with his head in his hands as he couldn't bare to watch it.
Who could?
Came as no surprise that, after a 30+ possession career-high game, the Swans formally acknowledged mid-week that the Young Hannebery Kiddie had served his apprenticeship and stitched him up to a three-year senior contract on a fair-to-above average wage with performance bonuses thrown in.
No longer does he have to play for a ham sandwich and a longneck on match day; quite right too, with the Gold Coast recruiting squad circling like great whites with very deep pockets.
He's been identified and tagged as a Ten Year Man for Sydney, thank you very much.
Nice to see that Fremantle continues to play the game squeaky clean; just as "In Like" McGlynn looked like he was about to blow the whole shooting match wide open, he was wiped out by some screaming banshee masquerading as a Painter & Docker, who managed to bust up ILMcG's cheekbone, and then suffered no retribution at the tribunal whatsoever himself, while his victim is out for the season.
How does that work?
Cap'n'Kirk looked like the Cheshire Cat throughout, as if he was grinning at himself while saying to no one in particular "I'm thanking the Good Lord Buddha that this is the last time I have to ever come to Subi".
Suppose it'll be the same during this weekend's swansong at SCG.
The Club pensioned off SC Roos quite nicely this week; a touching finesse just before his last appearance at headquarters, by appointing him head coach of something called the Swans Academy, which by all accounts is some kind of wonderful new machine that's been designed to groom potential Australian Rules players from the moment they turn nine years old!
Junior park footy is just the thing to keep St Paul off the streets, and give him something to do in retirement.
The best Sydney can hope for now is for Coach'n'Horses to take over, make a play for sixth place on the ladder and a home final, weasel their way through to the second week of September, and then face up to the facts.

FREMANTLE: 3.2, 5.6, 10.6, 13.9 (87). Goals: Walters 2, Bradley 2, Hasleby, Johnson, de Boer, McPhee, Morabito, Hasleby, Broughton, Schammer, Suban
SYDNEY: 2.5, 5.8, 9.9, 14.12 (96). Goals: McGlynn 3, Dennis-Lane 2, Mumford, Moore, Bevan, Jack, Pike, Mattner, Jetta, White, O'Keefe.
At Subiaco Oval.
Crowd: 34,087.

blow torch to the belly

2010-08-10T23:15:00.001-07:00

Mystics,

Who'd try and tip the AFL, let alone even consider having a bet on it?
The exposed form is completely unfathomnable.
If you were a punter from outer space that came across the caper fresh, you'd be forgiven for thinking the entire schemozzle was massively rigged.
After SC Roos publicy admitted last week that no-one was listening to him, not least the young kiddies playing in the reserves, who reputedly had all sorts of excuses, it was pretty clear Horse Longmire had taken the senior players, the so-called "leadership group" by the scruff of the neck and told them in no uncertain terms that they should just get on with playing their own game and not fall into the awful "zone" theory nonsense that other teams put on them, and just force their opposite number to play mark-up, one-on-one football.
As a result, Hawthorn found themselves befuddled.
Goodes revels in that sort of game plan, and The Train really is, after all these years, unstoppable when he puts his mind to it.
Rhino Keefe came back to form, and Odd Head McVeigh had his first good game in a while.
And the young blokes did well too, Dennis-Lane showing he might be something with three goals, while The Hannebery Kiddie already is something, Reg Grundy proving valuable, and the Son of Gary Jack will no doubt get the "most improved junior player" at the end of season awards dinner.
Also pleasing to see young Jetta get his first goal after kicking 19 behinds straight since debut; that hopefully, as he says, "will get the monkey off me back", and it will kickstart his AFL career.
The lad has undeniable talent and would out-run anyone in the game over 30 metres, but remains very much a greenhorn.
Cap'n'Kirk, really, although he battles on bravely, is having a sad shuffle out to the spelling paddock for good; he should confine himself to chanting mantra's in the dressing room, and then going and joining the monks in the stands, rather than play the game, otherwise his middle name of "Never Played A Bad Game" could be called into question right at the very arse end of an illustious career.
Why do it to youself when you having nothing left to prove?
On the back of being seven goals up at the long break, the Swans found themslves whip-sawed to the tune of 6-3 goals in the Championship Quarter, and still won the game.
That had the Horse written all over it
Stick to the game plan, don't tear it up and don't start chucking it at people seems to be a perfectly reasonable way to go
10-9 is good enough three games from the finish, but Freo at Subi this weekend is another bottle of mussels altogether.
PS. At the risk of sounding like a broken record; yet another completely outrageous fiction from the Swans Marketing Dept in concocting the plain-silly crowd figure.

SYDNEY: 5.4, 10.10, 13.12, 19.15 (129). Goals: O'Keefe 4, Goodes 3, McGlynn 3, Dennis-Lane 3, Moore, McVeigh, Jack, Kennedy, Jetta, White.
HAWTHORN: 1.1, 3.5, 9.6, 13.7 (85). Goals: Franklin 4, Lewis 2, Roughead 2, Stratton, Ladson, Bateman, Moss, Burgoyne.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 29,431.

Well, it was only a matter of time before the Mighty Tiges were not given a get-out-of-jail card free.
And the most remarkable game of rugby league this season, by any measure, to boot.
At 28-12 deep into the second half, Balmain were home and hosed, with the slippers on and the port & pipe in hand, and yet still managed to hand the opposition two Premiership points on a silver platter.
Really, they did almost everything right on the night, but fell for the trap that they thought they found themselves on a leisurely walk in the park against a team that was missing no less than eleven regular first graders through suspension and injury, when in reality, they weren't, and then got the timing all wrong, missing several opportunities, some would says gifts at field goal in extra-time, all the while underestimating the Rabbitoh's will to win.
Retired for the night on Saturday humming to myself..."to lose the unloseable game" to the tune of "to dream the impossible dream".
The Best Leb In The Game, as usual, was running the show, the pack put in from beginning to end with the front row in particular doing in some excellent work all round, while Keefy "Bludnut" Galloway had a blinder off the second row.
Benji, as usual, was doing the jink, the step, the faint, the cut out pass and the other ballet moves, after coming to the game with his goal kicking boots well polished, for a change.
All the wingers Lote "Wot I'd Do, Guv?" Tuqiri and That Try Scoring Freak Lawrence scored tries, and lets face it, that's the only reason that they are on the paddock - points on the board - while Ayshford got himself over the line after he found himself playing on the wing by mistake.
What's not to like about any of that?
All of the above is mere hearsay, of course.
Didn't see a frame of the match as there was some potterring to do in Dad's Shed, so only caught the radio call and later reports on the bush telegraph from spies who were there.
Only saw some highlight reel vision of the quite eerie final try, scored as it was at the end of the second period of extra time at 90 minutes just as the AFL style hooter was hooting at the Western Paddock to bring the proceedings to a halt.
But there was a pass in it that appeared to have a hint of a forward pass about it, although to some seasoned observers at the ground close to the action, it was a mile forward, and yet the Bamford decided not to send the thing upstairs for adjudication.
What the?
Home side favouritism, probably.
People, days afterwards, are still stratching their heads saying "how on earth did South Sydney win that one?"
The Balmain coaching staff haven't got a clue, so what hope the ordinary punter?
Thought SC Sheens restrained himself admirably at the dénouement, while the Club Secretary, no doubt, in a back office somewhere, would have been leaping about like some kind of wild-eyed crazed ape at the prospect of the possibility of not getting the gate reciepts from a home final.
A golden opportunity for Balmain to go to outright second on the ladder and even challenge for the glorious JJ Giltinan Shield [now awarded to the minor premiers] gone begging, and now they find themselves bumped back to fifth on the table.
Barry Crocker.
And Penrith, Parramatta, Melbourne and Gold Coast to come will represent a keenly-felt blow torch to the belly viz a viz September prospects.

SOUTH SYDNEY RABBITOHS 34. Tries: Farrell (3), Wesser, Sutton, Talanoa. Goals: Sandow (5).
WESTS TIGERS 30. Tries: Farah, Galloway, Lawrence, Ayshford, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (5).
[After extra-fucking-time, full-time 30-30].
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 23,298.