a Gigantic Tusk up the runter

 

 

Deflatee's,

It's probably best to be flogged in an 10 goal+ football lesson in the Grand Final than to get done over by a point. That way you can have a quiet cup of tea and rue the day, and there's no need to call for the Packer Wacker for the unfortunate fans with heart troubles. Disaster, catastrophe, eviscerated (as the Guardian put it) might not have been too harsh; a huge disappointment doesn't cover it by half, but "how embarrassment" seemed to sum up the day's tawdry proceedings from beginning to end.

Acres of old growth forest have already been sacrificed to newsprint for detailed 'expert' analysis of just what went so horribly wrong, so there's no point adding to the environmental crisis here. It's just such a shame that no one remembers who came second, ever. Nobody. That's now been consigned to the 'lil ol' history books for the Stats Guru's to pore over at their leisure as they do the things with numbers.

As the burning wreckage crashed its way to its inevitable demise, it became a game of how many sporting cliches you could come up with to apportion blame. "played their grand final last week", "didn't turn up to play", "left their kicking boots a home", "never had Buckley's" etc etc et al or according to one of my many Spies at the Ground, who threw in the astute observation "lost it at the selection table". Sure was. Some very obvious silly shitty mistakes were made there that upset the whole apple cart as it rippled through the playing ranks, and was fatal to whatever strategy they needed, because, as it was, Plans A, B, & C never worked. Failed miserably, is another way to put it. It's never a fabulous idea to go into The Big One half cocked and pretend you know what yr talking about. But the finger pointing and recriminations will have to come later, after the third grand final loss in a row ('14, '16, and now '22). The much vaunted "Sydney System" gets them through to the finals all the time, more or less, but the Premiership continues to elude them. Surely it can't be plain bad luck that they've blown their chances to win four Grand Finals in a decade and join the immortals? No heads will roll, but there will be plenty of navel gazing and casting of the eyes far out to sea during Sunday Smoko down by the Magic Waters of the Eastern Suburbs sea baths. Super Coach Horse will have to rub his chin a lot with a furrowed brow, as he ponders his long term future. He knows where the buck stops more than anyone.

It's never a pretty look to witness a team copping a Gigantic Tusk up the runter, and it started to become a game in my head to try and pinpoint exactly when we arrived at the juncture where there was absolutely no question that you could make the definitive call: ALL HOPE IS LOST.  But for those long-sufferers peering into CH7's Unblinking Eye, it must have been during three-quarter-time, somewhere between when the camera focused on The Great Mickey "O", who the papers would have said was 'visibly upset' - bugger that - the poor bloke had been weeping and when the camera panned across the faces of the deranged, nay, utterly berserk Geelong Cheer Squad and stopped on a banner that read vertically in navy blue on white "TOO OLD. TOO SLOW. TOO GOOD. PREMIERS '22". Or it could have been after the first bounce. It was abundantly clear from the off the Swans were playing the best team in the comp who'd won the Minor Premiership by the length of the street and were on song, having barely raised a sweat cantering through a Prelim. demolition job the week before to make That One Day in September as red hot odds-on favourites who'd had been coached to the very minute. But in the hubbub of the gargantuan crowd, who was the first to hear the faint distant strains of the Fat Lady singing? They are unmistakable.

So, that's another season of the Winter Game done & dusted, won & lost, and the good burghers of Melbourne won't known what do with themselves. Another Mad Monday is under the belt to clear out any chance of horrific recurring nightmares, and soon the thwack of leather on willow will be heard on football grounds across the Wide Brown Land. And in the famous last words of The Philosopher as he nursed this week's favoured tipple in his corner of the Front Bar down at The Local while repeatedly stabbing at the Red & White back page of the paper with his bony finger -- "there's always next year". That's just about the only thing you can't argue with.

GEELONG: 6.5,  9.8, 15.11, 20.13 (133). Goals: Stengle 4, Hawkins 3,
Smith 3, Cameron 2, Close 2, Blicavs, De Koning, Duncan,
C. Guthrie, Parfitt, Selwood.
SYDNEY:    1.0,  4.2,   4.3,   8.4 (52). Goals: Warner 2, Hayward,
McLean, P. McCartin, Mills, Heeney, Papley.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 100,024.

 

Champagne football

 

Screaming believers,

It was a good thing the bowels had been emptied in the time-honoured tradition of the "match day nervous shit", otherwise quite a mess could have been made of the Viewing Lounge in front of the Crystal Bucket, as the match to end all finals' matches came down to a single solitary 'bloody point'. After a first quarter of Champagne football, there was no inkling of the nail-biting cliff-hanger to come, as the Swans swept all before them early, and looked for all the world like a Premiership team. It was possible to breath easy as the bright lustre of "Never In Doubt" settled over the game. There's been a long running school of thought this season that the Pies were pretenders to the crown, after winning so many matches by so few points. At three quarter time things still looked pretty safe, but My Spy at The Ground (who was actually in Melbourne) ominously pushed a message through that chattered in over the Bush Telegraph "Collingwood never, ever, give up". And so it came to pass, as everyone with 'skin in the game' held onto their collective sphincters very tightly over the last few minutes before the final siren, when Sydney/South Melbourne supporters all over the globe leapt about like Whirling Dervishes, while going absolutely apesehit and completely bonkers. And there were more than a few tears of joy.

To have four-goals-five kicked on you in the final quarter, after losing the Championship Quarter, and still win, is truly remarkable. Just this one time, the famed "momentum" failed to get the Woods across the line. It just points to the Swans quality right across the park that got them into the Prelim. in the first place. It was pleasing to hear The Great Buddwah Lance Franklin on interview after the match produce some spontaneous honesty to the dumb-arse question "What was the most pleasing aspect of the game?" to which the Living Legend replied "The game? We're in the Grand Final!!!".

In the popular Sydney press, just about the only thing you ever see written about the Swans is Buddy, but their unsung taggers and blockers have probably done more than the side's superstars to get them as far as they've got. Then there's the freaks. Tom Hickey, known as "Tall Jesus", was astonished on interview after the game that he'd actually managed to make a Grannie; the quintessential journeyman, the only player to have played for four different clubs in four different states, appeared in 100+ games despite multiple injuries and never being considered a No.1 ruckman anywhere, for years on end, until Horse got hold of him at age 31 and worked the magic of the "Sydney System" on him and again resurrected a seemingly washed-up has-been and turned him into a crucial player at the pivot. The Swans have had a very good record at that over the past 20 years or so under the long running Roos→Longmire Regime. And special mention should also be made of the "McCartin Sandwich". Sydney have long prided themselves on having an inpenetrable brick wall across their backline under the theory 'keep them out all costs, and any goals you score will look after themselves'. But this one's been a coach's dead-set masterstroke. Drafting in Paddy McCartin sideways after he looked completely & utterly shot and done for after eight concussions at the Saints, to join his younger bro Tom who's well on track to be a 200+ game ten-year long-termer, was pure genius. They taught Paddy how to look after his bonce, and he hasn't been knocked out since, and told him, "well, here's your brother, nobody knows him like you do, so play together and every goal we let through this year is on you". Now that's motivation. And that's just two of the miracles seen this season; there are a couple of dozen more.

With two sides with the two best defensive set ups in the caper set to go head-to-head toe-to-toe on That One Day in September, the Stats Guru whirred the beads on the abacus, looked piercingly at the results, spun them again just to make sure, divined the probabilities, and came up with the proverbial pronouncement "You know what? Ten goals might be enough to win the Grand Final."

On a side note, whoever came up with the madcap idea of sending the Grand Final Parade down the muddy, less than mighty Yarra should have been sacked on the spot. What happens if all the little floaties capsize in an unprecedented maritime catastrophe? In any case, do they really expect fans to line both sides of the river just to see their heroes waving from afar, or is it some kind of revenge for having two 'out-of-town' teams playing in what should rightly and traditionally be a Melbourne Grand Final and they shouldn't have let any outsiders in in the first place? As it is, the poor long-suffering die-hard rusted-on fans are now deprived of being able to run alongside the open-topped sports car carrying their favourite player, throw streamers across the parade; scream, yell, go mad, and bust through the police lines to snap that once in a lifetime selfie. Really? WTF?  It'll be the first and last time. Mark my words.

Super Coach Horse has many strategies to prevent the boys from playing the Grand Final over and over and over and over in their heads before the game even begins (the hard lessons learned from The Horror of 2014 come to mind), but in the final paralysis his core message to the lads is to just "lean into it, and have fun". Because, if you aint having fun, what's the point of it?

Cheer, cheer. 

SYDNEY:                6.3, 11.7, 13.10, 14.11 (95).  Goals: Papley 3,
Franklin 2, Clarke, Heeney, McDonald, McInerney, Parker,
Reid, Rowbottom, Stephens, Warner.
COLLINGWOOD:   3.0,  7.1,  10.5,   14.10 (94). Goals: Elliott 2,
Hoskin-Elliott 2, McCreery 2, Bianco, Cameron, Crisp,
N.Daicos, J.Daicos, Ginnivan, Mihocek, Sidebottom.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 45,608.

 

win overall, onwards to victory, and all that

 

Bleacherites,

The thing about walking up to Docklands Stadium from the Berlin End of Melbourne is you'd never pick it for a footy ground unless you were told. Now surrounded by high rise corporate HQ's and a five-star and next door to a massive railway station, it looks more like some kind of enormous concert hall. Going from late afternoon sun into the joint with the lid on and it's dark and cold, the lights are on, and the place cries out "this is what a Melbourne winter looks like". Never seen footy there, while the MCG has been graced with my presence a few times, and the difference is pretty stark. Had my excuses for being in Marvellous Melbourne just as the Swans were playing in the very last fixture of the home & away season. Docklands is a happy hunting ground for Sydney - a home away from home - and "compact", about the same playing area as the SCG, but it's looking pretty dowdy at 22 years old compared to the historic grandeur of their Paddington home. But a free ticket came my way by way of grace & favour, so there was no question - just had to go see the contest. Didn't matter that of my three match attendances this year, two were against St Kilda. Know yr enemy. And it was 'everything to play for' time too, as they say in the classics...right down to the sharp pointy end of the season. The Swans could've still finished 2nd-5th on the ladder and that made for a pretty nervous South Melbourne supporters end. Then news came though from the match across the road at the G, which had 88K punters in - it was half time in the Swans game - that the surprise result there made no difference. Just winning became imperative.

Found myself in a newsagent in Sunshine on the Saturday morning before the Sunday game, and got myself a Saturday Age - the paper of record. The wizened old newsagent behind the perspex shielded counter said "ah, weekend Age? that one gone up". Having heard about rampant inflation and already scanned the front page for the cover price myself he also peered at the masthead and said "yes, now five dollar". The only other customer in the shop was a woman who indignantly shrieked "five bucks!!" and then said nothing else. Don't know that the Age sells all that well there. Only got the miserable rag to confirm my suspicions; in all the nine back pages of football news there was not a single story about the Swans. Not a one. The match preview ran to a few pars. Never mind they're third favourites to win the comp. 

As is par for the course down Mexico way, the standard of umpiring was appalling, and the backpedalling shrimps got plenty of stick from the bleachers for giving plainly ridiculous free kicks against the away team. Lost count of how many goals they free gifted on a platter to the Saints, but there were a fair few by half time. Never mind that St Kilda are a good side, with the football stars right across the park and the likes of King tending to go large on the scoreboard, home side bias is a thing among the Bamfords. Sydney could've played better, for sure, but never looked like losing from the opening bounce for mine, and the heart rate only went up a notch or two in the red & and white section of the stands when the Saints came within seven points a couple of times in the final stanza, but they were never going to go marching in. It's perfectly fine to do just enough to win, isn't it? And look a bit scrappy at it? Sandbagging, even? Margins make no difference now, the team that wins the most...well, wins.  Will "The Goal Kicker from North Adelaide" Hayward was due for a blinder, and the look of pure joy on his face in the denouement after he booted the match winner with minutes left told you all about the sweet taste of victory. The South Cheer Squad certainly put on a show - they'd dwarf the paltry one at the SCG. Another place fandom runs very deep. You forget what the crazy crowds are like in Melbourne, where folks will turn out in numbers to watch two flies crawl up a wall; in contrast Sydney is very tame with no tribalism. GWS Pygmies have no supporters.

Former Swan, The Great Dan "The Kiddie" Hannebery, was probably Best on Ground in a losing side in his last game before retirement. Outstanding. The Kid played out of his mind. A brilliant career cruelled by injury, having notched up 200 games for Sydney, then just 17 matches in four years after transfer to St Kilda at his own request as he did himself all kinds of mischief and spent most of his time in Sick Bay. At age 31 it was time to give the game away. Hanna's is in the Swans Pantheon, and that's all that matters. There was no doubt he was a star ten-year player from the off. There was a touching scene after the game as Dan was given all due respect and chaired off the ground, and one half of the carrying party was his old Swans team mate, The Great JP Kennedy, who retires at the end of his own spectacular career as the season finishes also, after his body finally gave up on him at 34. It was more than enough to see a single tear roll down the cheek of a die-hard or two who've taken notice of their whole careers. End of another era.

Some time in the Championship quarter as the Swans looked to be cruising, a lone seagull appeared and sat on the ground for a time before being chased away by players chasing the ball. As we were being driven along the turnpike going past the ground on our way to the aeroporto the next morning, the Good Lady Wife remarked  "I wonder if that seagull ever got out?". She was the one who spotted Isaac Heeney The Cardiff Zucchini ambling to the departure gate at Tullamarine eating from a bag of Burger Rings as most of the team got on the flight home to the Emerald City before us.

While most everyone were rooting for a home final first up, always thought finishing third is a very good place to be. While they looked like a finals chance from season's starting gun, the Swans spent a long inconsistent mid-year where the chance at the double bite at the cherry appeared very much in doubt. How easy it is to forget. To make the first four is rolled gold. That's seven triumphs on the trot now, and they're a red hot chance of doing a 'double purple patch' and snatching the whole damn shooting match. Just ask Collingwood - it's that 'momentum' theory they keep talking about. At one stage, a digital spreadsheet on a portable telephone was shown to me that calculated what score the Swans needed at any given point in the match to get the percentage up to go second on the ladder. The Stats Guru's eyes would have popped out as he made a mess of his jeans at the mere sight of it. A work of art. But, nah. The way it is, all that needs to happen is for the Swans to really find their mojo and pass the fairly stern test against last year's Premiers* (*in a mickey mouse Plague-rooted season with an off-kilter Grand Final in Perth) on the wide open (and hostile) spaces of the MCG. Then return to the SCG for a heaving Prelim final against whoever, then back down to Melbourne for a float down the Yarra and another run around HQ in the Grand Final, when anything can, and does, happen.  Of course they know the attitude now just needs to be win, win, win everything and take the shortest route possible to the Premiership. You can be dead sure SC Horse would be drumming that into them, even as they relax with smoko in the magic waters of a late winter sea bath in the South Pacific Ocean. He'd be in their ears. It can't get any simpler than win the next three against quality teams - who all boast some big name champions - and The Flag is in the bag. There aint no room for losers in the finals, they can suit themselves, and nobody ever remembers who came second anyway. Take no prisoners.

ST KILDA:  3.3,   5.5 ,  7.7,   11.8 (74).  Goals: King 5, Long, Windhager, Higgins, Steele, Membrey, Butler.
SYDNEY:   4.2,    9.3,  11.6,  13.10 (88). Goals: Hayward 3, McDonald 2, Heeney 2, Franklin 2, Rowbottom, Warner, Gulden, Papley.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 23,334.

 

while doing the things south of the border, the hand-held bush telegraph chattered into life with the news that catastrophe had again struck the Mighty Tigers as they were on the receiving end of Eastern Suburbs' second highest score ever - 72 - in the entire history of farkin' rugby league which was goddamn invented here. You have to go back to the 1935 to find a bigger one by the Chooks and that was more than 87. Twelve converted tries to one is enough to knock the stuffing clean out of a side already suffering from extremely low self esteem having lost 14 of their last 15 matches. Never mind having any confidence in anything, they're probably on pills for that; now they're dead set certainties, a lay down misère, to take out the non-coveted Wooden Spoon with a time-honoured whimper.

Then there's the Tiges workmanlike skipper James Tahmou getting sent off within a minute or so of the finish for launching a "foul-mouthed tirade at the referee", and getting rubbed out for a week down at The Tribunal, more formally known as the Rugby League Judiciary. All for nothing. It's not that Jimmy called the ref names or anything, it's because the word "fuck", or was it "fucking", along with "incompetent" were included in the well aimed spray at officialdom. He might have got away with a simple "idiot" or "imbecile", maybe "bastard" even, but as it is, he gets to play one more losing game before likely retirement, in ignominy.

It is very very difficult right here, right now to find a point in living memory where Balmain has been at a lower nadir. Gawd Almighty, the whole kaboose has detached and ebbed away and it's now an irretrievable wreck, after eleven long seasons of failing to make the finals. The Supercoach Sheens and Benji Show next year will have more than their work cut out against the impossible, given the club's history in acquiring quality marquee players has been very poor indeed. They can't even attract any decent "journeymen", and the junior's ranks are thin on the ground with the good ones snapped up for superior coin elsewhere. In any case, from here, it's yet another ten year project to win the Premiership, and that's with luck. Far too many rusted on old timers won't be here to see it. Next year's coach will be 82 by then. Lawdy, lawdy me. End of days.

SYDNEY ROOSTERS 72. Tries: Butcher (4), Crichton (2), Tupou (2), Lodge, Hutchison,
Tedesco, Watson. Goals: Walker (12).
WESTS TIGERS 6. Tries: Naden. Goals: Doueihi (1).
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 14,939. 

a purple patch and losing yr marbles

 

 

Eternal optimists,

There's no better time to get a Purple Patch than at the pointy end of the season. And hardly a better time to do it than in the annual North v South grudge match in Melbourne. It means nothing in Sydney, but down Mexico way the match sees all kinds of South Melbourne supporters crawl out of the woodwork, including those who'd go to no other game all year. But you don't see the previously ubiquitous "Keep South at South" banner much in the stands these days. After all, it has been a very long time now since the Swans played at Lakeside Oval in Albert Park. A long long time, but the rivers run deep, and unlike many other re-located clubs, South never lost its fan base. There were probably more of them than North's fans in the meagre Docklands crowd. And as it happens, this weekend sees the Swans 'celebrate 40 years' since their move north of the border. 40 fookin' years in Sydney, eh? That's half a life time, if yr lucky. Crikey, that must surely class me among the very rusted on of followers, the die hards, the long suffering loyalists; having arrived in the Emerald City just a couple of years later.  It seems like only yesterday (it was 1985) that every other week, this cub sports reporter for Radio 2GB found himself at Wednesday lunch at the Bourbon'n'Beefsteak Bar up the Cross, courtesy of the new owner & club saviour Dr Geoffrey Edelsten. A most hospitable man. He generously put on a full bar and smorgasbord for the press, so we could interview Swans coach "T-shirt" Tommy Hafey and the coach of the week's opposition, who the Good Doctor would fly up from Melbourne for the occasion before each home game. Stories were filed on an old bakelite telephone - even if there was no news to report - but it was rare of anyone to make it back to the office on those afternoons. The Press Corps was as drunk as skunks, as a rule, by the time they turned off the taps. Them's were the days, as they say in the classics. But that was the 80's, and this is now. It was a very different world back then. But enough of this nostalgic digression on things that happened in ancient history.

It's also a good time of year to boot yr best score of the season with some goal kicking practice against the bottom placed team. SC Horse's genius masterstroke of creating the McCartin Sandwich sees the Bros. taking care of business down back supported by their willing aiders and abetters. The mid-field is on fire and you only have to look at the goal scorer's list to see where the forwards are going, led by The Great Budwah who can still kick all kinds of goals from anywhere - even with his hitherto unused right foot - with his rover The Pearl Papley in career best form pouncing on the crumbs like the ball is a chip to a seagull. Buddy pondering his future in the game is neither here nor there at the minute - and he knows it - when he's well in with his very last chance of another Premiership. Looks like the team's real match day coach, Deano Cox, might have settled on the Hickman and Reidy sharing the ruck, which is a top idea. The work load is too much for just one man in the fast modern game. Speaking of coaches, former Adelaide boss cocky, Lil' Donny Pyke, is doing some excellent work on the portable whiteboards that they carry out at the short breaks, but that's really cover for his grand strategy work - a plottin' and a schemin' for that One Day in September. Don excels at the abacus, has the attention span of a elephant, and has the same philosophy as Brains from Thunderbirds Are Go!

Having bagged the Purple Patch with five wins in a row, the Stats Guru helpfully pointed out if Sydney do a Collingwood, and win their next five...well, that's the flag, the grand final, the Premiership all done and dusted. However, if you were to wander down to front bar at The Local and found the Philosopher propped up in his corner nursing his favoured tipple, you can be sure he'd be muttering something about about chickens and hatching.Two matches before September and there's little doubt the Swans will finish in the top four - crikey, they could have actually won The Curse of Minor Premiership if they'd kicked straight in a few games - guaranteeing the priceless double bite at the cherry. Nobody in modern football has won the flag from outside the top four, so that's where it sits. But this weekend's looming match up against Collingwood will sort the men from the boys, and it won't be for the faint hearted. A win for either side means they could even sandbag the last game of the minor round and pick their opposition in the finals pipeopener.  But, the Stats Guru has warned me off going down that infernal rabbit hole known as the AFL Ladder Predictor™; there are just too many combinations, too much confusion. And don't whatever you do bet on anything.

A glowing tribute to the glittering career of The Great JPK (aka Joshua P Kennedy) - who retired mid-week after popping his good hammy at the age of 34 - will have to wait for the season ending year in review...but suffice to say for the moment, he was admitted to the Swans Pantheon a long time ago during his 14 year career as a superlative ornament to the game. But JPK finishes up on 290 first grade games, ten short of automatic AFL Life Membership, but the bloke is football royalty for fuck's sake, so surely the AFL can see their way clear to bestow honourary Life Membership on the dead-set champion. If not, a letter writing campaign to the AFL Secretary will certainly see it done.     

NORTH MELBOURNE:  2.0,  5.1,  8.5,  13.10 (88). Goals: Larkey 7, Zurhaar 2,
Coleman-Jones, Davies-Uniacke, Hall, Taylor.
SYDNEY/SOUTH:          4.5,  8.10, 14.15, 18.18 (126). Goals: Franklin 4, Papley 3,
Warner 3, Heeney 2, McDonald 2, Reid 2, Gulden, Hayward.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 19,091.

meantime, the Nightmare on the Balmain Road continues unabated. Forget the season, it's long long gone - but the thought did pass my mind while watching the Mighty Tiges on the crystal bucket go 'round against the hapless Newcastle Knights out west..."is this the worst team that Balmain has fielded in the past decade?". That'd be front bar talk around about, and the Brown Bros. will buy you beer and have their views. But the plain facts are the death fight for the Wooden Spoon is on in earnest, and the Tiges are widely tipped to plummet to rock bottom.  Mad Monday can't come quick enough. So what does the club do after sacking the coach mid season?  Come up with a typically insane "lets go back to the future" plan for next year, and bring back 71-year-old Supercoach Tim Sheens, who coached the Tige's 2005 Premiership team. Excuse me? That was 17 years ago.  2005 is something you read about in the 'lil history books now. Don't get me wrong, Sheens has legendary status for very good reason, but he hasn't coached in a long time now, and the game is a very different one to that played back then. And to make matters worse, club legends in the form of The Great Robbie "The Best Leb in the Game' Farah and The Great Benji Marshall will be bought on board as Sheens' forwards and backs coaches respectively. Only problem is, Robbie and The Benj don't seem to have any coaching experience at all, and have been resting on their not inconsiderable laurels in retirement. Clearly, someone has gone completely & utterly bonkers and convinced the stark raving hopelessly dysfunctional club Board to lose their collective marbles. As My Spy At The Ground remarked with deep irony "so, this must be the future of Rugby League". Lord, help us. Symbolism, nostalgia, legend, myth and the warm and fuzzies will help you not one jot if you can't afford to put a competitive team on the paddock week in, week out. It's visionary stuff on the part of Balmain that once again will all end in tears. For gawd's sake, if you find yrself in a hole, stop digging.

As it happens, found myself driving down the Balmain peninsular and onto the Balmain Road the other day, and spotted the site of the storied old Balmain Leagues Club out of the corner of my eye. It's a very sad image for a club die-hard with fond memories of the joint...and it can't be unseen. The place has now been almost entirely demolished after sitting vacant for 12 years. And now that it's not required as a dive site for the third Harbour crossing, an ugly high rise apartment block will arise in it's place sooner than expected. But for now, it's just desolate ruins - much like the football club is in its current state - a far far cry from the clubhouse which uproariously celebrated the 2005 Miracle Year, famously hosted by a stupendously smashed Dawn Fraser. Yes, Sheens, Farah and Marshall were all there too back then - but those days have gone away, and the way things are travelling, are never to return. As much as it pains me to say, there just aint no going back to the Good Old Days.

WESTS TIGERS 10. Tries: Naden, Kepaoa. Goals: Doueihi (1).
NEWCASTLE KNIGHTS 14. Tries: Tuala (2), Hoy.Goals: Clifford (1).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 9,621.

 

on their day

 

Denizens of the Bleachers,

Went to the footy again the other week. Unheard of for an ol' crip to visit what was formerly the worst ground in all Sydney for disabled access, but is now as smooth as a baby's arse cheek. The SCG Trust were compelled to make it right in the end. Worse still though, it must be a minimum of eight years since a football ground has been graced with my presence twice in the same season. Lawdy me. How much has been missed?

It was the Pride Round, so the entry on Driver Avenue was marked by a gargantuan festooned inflatable archway that you walked through to get to the turnstiles. On approach, the first thing anyone said to me was "would you like some free toothpaste, Sir?" Before managing to dream up some witty reply, my companion at the game - My Spy At The Ground - retorted "don't think he'd be interested, mate, look, he's got no teeth". A flash of a  smile bought an effusion of apologies and much bowing and scraping. Respect. The next thing anyone said to me after going through the Members Gate came from some officious Greencoat who unexpectedly accosted me. Fearing he would say "you've been smoking far too many powerful pharmaceuticals to be in here, son, the stoned go to General Admission", the  goon instead straight-up popped that hoary old chestnut "excuse me Sir, but do you have a collared short?" Well aware of the arcane rules and in no position to make a fuss, began digging around in the layers of wool under my Ice Suit to find one which had a withered old zip up collar. That was enough to satisfy officialdom, and never once imagined afterwards what might have been in the event of being short of said shirt. Unlike back-in-the-day, instead of facing precipitous stairs or risking a rickety old lift, there's now an expansive set of escalators to take you up to the first level of the MA Noble Stand. There we spotted little pairs of isolated seats with wheelchair spaces next to them at the top of the ground floor of bleachers, under cover - even though the night was as clear as a bell. Always quick on his feet, My Spy approached a Greencoat, pointed at my walking stick, and said "look at him! he's really crippled. sad, isn't it? is he allowed to sit in those seats?" After getting an affirmative response he remarked "Good! I'm his carer, so I'll have to sit next to him, then". No problem. So there we were with a magnificent  view of the game from the Paddington End separated from the seething disease riddled masses below us, with a bar, a pissoir and a pie stand directly behind. There should be waiters. We thought our cock's had been kissed.

Talk about laugh, until we then witnessed without doubt the most lacklustre first half of football seen all season, with a total of six goals kicked to the long break...Sydney 4 to St Kilda 2. It took more than ten minutes to find someone to kick the opening six pointer. There wasn't exactly a lot of screeching and chortling action in the crowd as the Swans played that kind of game they've become known for; the one that relies on the 'McCartin Sandwich' to stop the opposition from scoring at all costs - any goals the Swans might kick come as a bonus. Coach Horse would have given them a rocket at half time for letting two goals in and the crowd was restless, so thankfully things got going after half time. Tom "The Pearl" Papley - who was recently officially branded as a "serial pest" on account of he will not shut up - slotted a couple of big ones to boot his 200th goal, so you can imagine the antics. Simian, they were. There is nobody else in football who likes kicking goals more than the Pearl. It's in his contract. Then, the floodgates opened. Heeney the Cardiff Zucchini had his usual blinder, while Will "The Goal Kicker from North Adelaide" Hayward booted what could have been the decider that early on, as the Swans kicked five goals to zip, nothing, bugger all to the Saints in the Champo. It all worked, comfortably. The faint strains of the Fat Lady singing could be heard well before three-quarter time. Under the circumstances, there'd been a fair bit of drinking going on as you'd expect, and latecomers kept piling into the stand behind us and watching the rest of the match on their feet. At one stage some Irish brogue could be heard among the barracking - absolutely no idea what they were on about - not the faintest, but it was abundantly clear they supported The Red & The White and detested umpires.

My only glimmer of regret on leaving the time honoured ground was a vague feeling of sympathy for Ian "Molly" Meldrum, whose long harboured fantasies of a St Kilda premiership were once again verging, nay teetering, on being so cruelly dashed as they have been, year after year after year after fucking year since '66. Coach Horse was circumspect on interview and apart from the usual "we take our wins, and learn from our losses" mantra, he did make it clear he's a true believer in winning ugly. Only the ruthless operate that way. And you can see why, as there's always that chance of there being just one point in it in the denouement.

You can imagine the shock then of the Swans playing their worst game of the year in the very next away game, getting toweled up by the lowly Bombers, who are something of a hoodoo team for the Swans at HQ. A match they should have won handsomely if only they'd kicked straight and a golden opportunity to ram home a chance at the top four, missed, spectacularly. Sydney hardly ever play at the MCG during the season, so they always have next to no current experience of the wide open spaces, but it's no excuse. They may well come to rue the day. Inconsistency is a morale wrecker.

So, it was pleasing to see a return to form this last weekend, when, the Swans turned everything around and flogged, then whipsawed, the hapless Bulldogs, who were made to look very ordinary. Let's face it, there's simply no coming back from having seven goals kicked on you in the first quarter in the modern game. Lucky for Sydney it's an unchallenging run home largely against lower ranked teams, but with 75% of the season gone, anyone in the current top eight could beat any other - on their day - as they say in the classics. Watch this space. At the moment, it's still perfectly fine to fly under the radar.

SYDNEY: 7.8, 9.11, 15.15, 17.18 (120). Goals: Heeney 4, Amartey 2, Franklin 2, Papley 2,
Warner 2, Clarke, Hayward, Mills, Rowbottom, Stephens.
WESTERN BULLDOGS:  2.1, 5.6,  8.8,  9.13 (67). Goals: Naughton 2, Weightman 2,
Bontempelli, English, Johannisen, Schache, Ugle-Hagan.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 26,226.

There's yet more trouble in Tigerland, as the Rocky Horror Show continues unabated with the Mighty Balmain Tigers, for the first time this season, officially ranked Stone Motherless Last on the table. Three wins in 16 games in a season of 25 + a bye. No one has done worse. Punting coach Mr Magoo and plucking Brett "Noddy" Kimmorley from obscurity to be "caretaker coach" hasn't gone as well as had been hoped, as Nods is yet to notch up a magnificent victory for the Tiges. It's not as if the boys aren't trying; but plenty of them know they'd struggle to make first grade elsewhere. A deficiency in class is the problem. In any case, everyone is down on form and who can blame the super consistent losers? 22 years of internal club machinations hasn't exactly done much in the way of accumulating a star-studded line up, let alone premiership points. It's always been a long time between drinks. Coach Noddy's remarks on interview after the game were taciturn, and perhaps the most encouraging thing he said viz-a-viz 'the playing group' was "I think they're getting better". A win, any win, would certainly warm the cockles temporarily. And don't we all need that? But few things are more certain than the current state of affairs dooming Balmain to being beyond all hope for another a year yet. And the death fight for the Wooden Spoon is yet to come. Lord, save us.  

WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Nofoaluma (2), Brown, Laurie. Goals: Doueihi (2).
PARRAMATTA EELS 28. Tries: Campbell-Gillard, Sivo, Mahoney, Moses,  Papali'i. Goals: Moses (4).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 13, 212.

 

 

Buddy & Noddy write the mid-season report card

  

L.Franklin (Syd) books T.Cotchin (Rich) for over acting under the AFL Code of Conduct, 27 May 2022, Sydney Cricket Ground.

Hard Nuts,

It was a choice way to mark the mid-way point in the season -- Buddy Franklin giving that well known serial pest Trent Cotchin a short arm jab to the chops. Kapow! Cop that, ya prick. Cotchin, of course, is a well known serial pest. Only recently he kicked Tex Walker in the nuts That's all class. He should have been booked for over acting as he'd been doing it all day. But no, Lance gave him a touch up and gets rubbed out for a week with the AFL's Prosecuting QC told to pull his head in with the "flowery language" lawyer speak down at the tribunal. You don't go around calling one of the all time greats of game "cowardly" and get away with it. That's the last time you'll be appearing before the Three Faceless Men, son, if it requires a grovelling apology to the great man. Good job there, headquarters. Oh well, it was a convenient way for The Great Buddwah to take a longer mid-season break than usual as it turns out, and stay home with the wife & kids, no need to go to Melbourne. There's some serious unfinished business to be attended to down there later on. Some emotional shit happening also as this has to be his last season, surely? The body is starting to seriously creak under the strain. Under normal circumstances with the Swans, it's no Buddy - no cigar. If fact, if he doesn't kick a goal you can generally call it curtains. Buddy kicking a bag of five against Richmond is the best he gets these days, and they win games. So it was pleasing for the long suffering die hard to see the best team performance Sydney had put on all year, Buddyless. When the D's kick five goals on you in the opening stanza you have half an ear open for the faint strains of the Fat Lady singing already, but to kick 'em off the park in the final quarter to snatch an unlikely victory two weekends in a row was pretty sweet home & away heading to the bye. Also allowed pretty boy Tom Papley, who's been struggling, to do his excellent chimpanzee impressions, while the Swan's "forgotten man" Sam Reid picked up the Gold Seiko watch (but took the Harvey Norman retail bundle in lieu) for Best On Ground. At 8 and 4, the Swans are winning twice as many as they're losing which should get them there abouts for the double bite of the cherry in the finals, but they really need a "purple patch" - five wins in a row - whammo! in the back half of the season, for mine, if they genuinely want to get serious about a top four finish, which of course, is a very good place to be, and well within reach. If other players from losing teams go to restaurants and start beating the shit out of each other after getting pissed in the wake of just losing a game they'd banked on to the Swans, then the Red & the White are home & hosed, you'd think. The "Sydney System" keeps the players out of the papers if they get on the grog, and with a good team looking after themselves and some draft picks really coming on, SC Horse knows a thing or two about "psych war" from the safe distance of Sydney. Excellent work, well placed. 8/10. 

MELBOURNE   5.1,  7.1,  8.6,   9.7 (61). Goals: Fritsch 3, Gawn 3, Jordon,
Langdon, Jackson.
SYDNEY           1.5,  6.9,  6.11, 10.13(73). Goals: Reid 3, McDonald 3, Papley 2,
Heeney, Gulden.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 32,753.

Meantime, over at Balmain, it was good of the Board to find the time to sack the coach, in a not so busy mid-season bye fortnight. Michael  "Madge" Maguire, otherwise known as Super Coach Magoo, gets the chop with immediate effect so he's already had his last game at Leichaardt. Contracted to the end of 2023, Mr Magoo wasn't exactly shown the back door without so much as a sausage. He was sensible enough to go quietly and take a couple of sugar bags stuffed with bundles of pineapples the club can ill afford with him. Of course SC Magoo is a scapegoat - all sacked coaches are - we know that, and giving him the punt covers the arses of a helluva lot of other ineffectual people. The Club Secretary should probably join him in the dole queue down at the CES. But you do have to feel a bit sorry for "Madge" after three and half seasons, knowing that coaching Souths to the Premiership in 2014 will now never be bettered as his career apogee. Certainly never a chance with Balmain in their recent and current state of complete & utter disarray. In truth, and especially this year, he's had nothing to work with. A seriously under-manned and under-powered side to begin with, who've been utterly wracked by injury, been unlucky and accident prone. Balmain's three star players are all in nowhereseville. The brilliant goal kicking five-eighth Adam Doueihi hasn't had a game this year after off-season surgery, the mercurial full- back Dane Laurie is cactus with a knee mischief, while that monster of a Samoan second-rower with the wonderful name of Luciano Leilua is off to Townsville at the end of the season for much better money ($2.2M/3yrs) at the Cowboys. So, see you Madge, it was never really was that nice knowing you. A few more wasted years. Said it before, say it again, but hot damn they're a hard team to follow.    

So, Brett "Noddy" Kimmorley has been plucked from obscurity, as he's found himself at a loose end, to be interim coach for the rest of the season. Noddy was a handy enough half-back in his the day, played for NSW when required, but more importantly, he was the quintessential journeyman playing for as many as six different clubs, filling yawning holes and gaps in teams. Always the stop gap, he knows he's been handed the poisoned chalice by the Tigers, but the best he could possibly do is limit the humiliation of not making the finals for ten years - fuck my brown dog, Harold - excuse the emotion, but ten long suffering years without even a sniff at some silverware for the trophy cabinet. And that's after going through seven coaches in a decade. With Balmain at 3 and 9, Noddy also has to try not to get into a death fight to avoid the Wooden Spoon. Poor effort, not good enough. 1/10.

WESTS TIGERS: Bye.

 

                       Been there before. Brett Kimmorley, 25 May 2005, for NSW v QLD, Lang Park, Brisbane.

 

six seconds left

 

 Long sufferers,

It's not every weekend that both yr football teams win, let alone a long long weekend over Easter. And only at the last gasp. In a truly terrible start to the season, the Mighty Balmain Tigers had gone 0-5 - the "reverse purple patch" - five consecutive losses to kick off another long, cold, bitter winter of discontent. It's rapidly turning out to be a season where they fail yet again to get their mojo working, as they have for the past decade. At least they have been consistently poor performers. Christ, since 2012 they have finished the season at 10th, 15th, 13th, 15th, 9th, 14th, 9th, 9th, 11th & 13th and already look to be in a death fight with the Canterbury-Bankstown Bulldogs for the Wooden Spoon. Lord, save us. Poor old coach Mr Magoo was on the verge of being shown the back door out through which you go without so much as a sausage, when one man - who's career had been saved by the said coach - lets the traditional boogie man hang on for another week at least with a well-timed field goal. It always warms the cockles of the heart of a long-time rusted-on supporter to see a bolter save the day. With minutes left in what turned out to be a nip-and-tuck affair against the highly fancied Parramatta Eels, and the scores all locked away at 20-20, extra time was looming large. But with six seconds left on the clock, Jackson Hastings pots a drop-goal over the black dot from 40 metres out for on of those now few and far between famous victories. You bewdy! Much leaping about and hooting.

Hastings really is the antipathy of the Tigers story this past decade, where they've lost good players through silly arguments over money and bought "marquee" players at considerable cost who have universally failed to fire. Not one of them ended up enhancing their reputations at the Tiges, let alone putting some fruit on the sideboard. Hastings is the reverse, run out of town by the Silvertails over at Manly for having the temerity to question club politics and biffing the club captain and subsequently lumped with a bad reputation, nobody wanted him. Hastings was forced to play in the original rugby league comp up there amid the dark satanic mils of Northern England to make ends meet; he was looking well washed up after three years in the Old Dart. However, Mr Magoo somehow managed to see some untapped potential in the bloke and invited him to Balmain on a cut lunch and a couple of beers after the game contract with the win bonus money tucked into in a brown envelope. It's taken six rounds, but now the bloke's a hero - well, for 15 minutes at least. It's the old Moneyball theory that's been employed over at the Swans (who've had more luck with marquee players!) for yonks - buy cheap seasoned journeymen and turn them into dangerous niche players. You know it makes sense.

That said, the lack of success is also a function of the fact that Balmain spent unwisely for far too long and have no money anyway. Western Suburbs stopped tipping cash in by the bucket load years ago and they haven't had a leagues club or rip roarin' poker machine revenue for 12 years. The Board has seen seven coaches come and go and have been beyond dysfunctional for 22 years! Joisus. With the frigid weather on the way it makes the die-hard loyalist shudder to think that the Glory Days are long gone, and there's never actually been a Plan B, C or Z. Forgive me for sounding like a broken record, but jeez, they're a hard team to follow.

PARRAMATTA EELS 20. Tries:  Gutherson, Papali'i, Mahoney, Niukore. Goals: Moses (2).

WESTS TIGERS 21. Tries: Nofoaluma (2), Leilua, Maumalo. Goals: Brooks (1), Hastings (1). Field Goals: Hastings (1).

At Parramatta Stadium.

Crowd: 28,336.

Of course there was always going to be a hangover after Buddy booted his 1000th. A lot of water would have been passed that night, after the pitch invasion of the century. As it was, the dear ol' Swannies should have been thrashed by the Bulldogs six days later but ended up losing by 11 pts, then should have accounted for Norths easily, but struggled to win by 11 pts. All over the shop like a mad dog's breakfast, but not too much damage on the ladder. And of course, the Budwah just can't keep himself out of the news and came off against the 'Roos with a "hand injury" that turned out be a busted finger (although no one has asked which one in fear it might be the social finger) that's required the attention of an orthopedic surgeon so Franklin'll be down in Sick Bay champing at the bit. At his age, Lance would've been happy enough that he didn't have to make the arduous trip to the Golden West. As the Weagles found out to their cost, it's very difficult to come back from having five goals kicked on you in the first quarter; yr pretty much doomed to play catch up football for the rest of the day. And so it came to pass, with the faint strains of the Fat Lady singing by quarter time. The Ghost of Ben Cousins is always there every time you go to Perth; people remember, oh, they remember...the enmity runs deep over Stolen Premierships with snaky substances. So, few things give the ardent follower of The Red & The White greater pleasure than watching the team giving West Coast a gigantic tusk up the runter to the tune of a ten goal football lesson. Supercoach Horse noted on interview after the match that there'd been 11 individual goal scorers. Goal kickers all over the park, just like back in the SC Roos days. And one of the best goalsneaks in the game, pretty boy Tommy "Pearl" Papley, is on a very short rein in rehab having not played yet this year. It really was one of those matches where the score box might as well say "Best: All Played Well". Can't remember any passengers. No idea how the Navy got themselves mixed up in this game, it wasn't Anzac Day or anything, and what the sinking of a ship called Sydney with the loss of all 645 hands off the WA coast back in '41 has got to do with a football match is way beyond me. WTF? Is this some kind of psych war? Be that as it may, with distant family ties to the West, Callum "Saw" Mills looked chuffed with what the Good Lady Wife christened the Horatio Hornblower Bomb Trophy for Best on Ground. Handle with care.

WEST COAST: 0.0,  2.0,  4.3,  9.4 (58). Goals: Ryan 3, J.Kennedy 2, Redden, B.Williams,
Darling, Cripps.
SYDNEY: 5.4,  10.10,  11.12, 18.13 (121). Goals: Heeney 3, McLean 2, McDonald 2,
Hayward 2, Parker 2, Warner 2, Ronke, Bell, Ladhams, McInerney, Blakey. 
At Perth Stadium.
Crowd: 42,888.