a certain whiff

Boosterists,

The precise statistical details of the Triumphant Premiership Year escape me for the moment, in fact they are long gone, receded to the dark recesses of the brain.
But do seem to recall that the Swans handed out quite a few ten goal lessons at the Sydney Cricket Ground and the Olympic Stadium and contrived to win the close away games.
Is there a certain whiff on here viz a viz the flag?
A few of the Swans veterans would have the “sweet smell of victory” just about wafting into their nostrils…as they contemplate their swansongs.
Melbourne as a town doesn’t look north of the Murray very often.
Ten individual goal kickers up to half time - some kind of record surely?
The curiously laid back Channel Ten commentary tried to get excited with this call “and there we go – the Swans have just kicked the first 11 goals of the game”
Richmond Tigers must’ve picked up the fishwraps the morning after for a read ‘em and weep, as they described the debacle of 23 minutes into the second quarter before they could somehow find their first goal.
The way the forward line was working it looked for all the world like Magic, in his 300th game, was being carried around on a sedan chair.
That’s what you want in yr old age.
The Goodes Train was back to his Brownlow best for the first time this year.
His goal from 65m out while on a full tilt run after busting through a few tackles and bouncing the thing a couple of times, was an ‘absolute pearler’
You’d imagine everyone at the ground would have been wide eyed after that.
Didn’t get enough game time for mine, but made good use of what he got.
Kennelly is obviously on fairy-drugs, the way he floats around the back line And of course there’s The Kiddies – Playfair, Moore, Jack, Bird, Richards et al - who aren’t going to lose their places in the team in a hurry - and its always good seeing boys become men.
It’s been suggested to me that BBB “Slugger” Hall should make his way back into the team by playing a couple of games in reserves when he gets back from his holidays, so he can go around kicking goals and clocking blokes with complete impunity.



SYDNEY: 6.4, 13.7, 16.11, 21.13 (139). Goals: Buchanan 3, McVeigh 3, Goodes 2, O'Loughlin 2, Ablett 2, Playfair 2, Bird 2, Malceski, C.Bolton, Moore, O'Keefe, Bevan.
RICHMOND: 0.2, 1.6, 4.7, 8.9 (57). Goals: Deledio 2, Cotchin, Bowden, Brown, Moore, Foley, Schulz
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd 26,852.



Found myself in Dad’s Shed on a Monday evening for the second half of the Tigers game at the SFS v Easts, and the MMM radio call, with G.Gould going off.
Appeared that Wests were done in by some poor execution, most notably the Tuiaki kiddie running “80-90 metres” at a critical moment in second half and then choosing the wrong option as his finisher knocks-on in the in-goal, and the torrential rain at the Western Paddock for the last 20 minutes of the match.
But there was no lack of commitment or will to win.
Seasoned observers are saying the Tigers pack should probably be rated as the best going around in the comp at the moment, and as SC Sheens would be happy to tell anyone who’s prepared to listen, rugby league matches are won in the forwards.
That sort of loss doesn’t hurt too much on the ladder when you are beaten by the competition leaders, after beating the former competition leaders last week.
SC Sheens will just pull out the old coach’s ledger and scratch that one down into the column marked “we’ll learn from our losses”.


SYDNEY ROOSTERS 19. Tries: Aubusson (2), Pearce. Goals: Fitzgibbon (3). Field Goal: Pearce.
WESTS TIGERS 10. Tries: Farah, Tuiaki. Goals: Hogdson (1).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd 15,204.

on the retirement of TSC MacGill

Enthusiasts,

Cannot let the retirement of Stuart Charles Glyndwr “That Strange Cunt” MacGill from the test match arena, at the age of 36 [or is it 37?], pass without comment.
[A reminder on how he got his moniker. Found myself standing in a beer queue one day at a Sydney test match some years ago now, when Warne and MacGill were bowling in tandem. Struck up a conversation with a total stranger, who out of the blue said, “and that Stuart MacGill, now he’s a strange cunt, don’t you reckon?” He was forever afterwards known as TSC MacGill.]

He certainly set himself apart from the average first class cricketer in being a book reading wine drinker [having nothing much better to do, he allegedly read 24 novels on a tour of Pakistan, while arranging with the Australian Ambassador to bring a couple of cases of his favourite reds in through the diplomatic bag, from time to time].
Seems like we have been watching TSC play at the SCG since the dawn of time, he’s been such a part of the furniture at the old ground.
He was the classic strike bowler, for mine, on that track in particular
Could always be relied on to take a key wicket in a sticky situation, and while he was well known - like the boxer who let down his guard - for being hit, for plenty on a regular basis, he did in fact have a better strike rate than SR Warne in test cricket, and his average is only a couple of runs worse.
When on song, he had a bigger, and a better leg break than Warne’s, and his cleverly disguised arm ball, that fizzed off a huge SCG turner and went straight on, fooled many a good quality bat, to their cost.
For a bloke who should have appeared in more test matches than he did, undoubtedly his crowning achievement was joining the two hundred club.
As he himself put it “there are not that many children whose father’s have taken 200 test wickets”.
Also widely respected for having principles and some moral fibre when he refused to make himself available for the 2004 tour of Zimbabwe.
It was always a joy to watch “the comedy bat”, as he was known in the Ladies Stand, and his antics at No.11
Although there was the day when he featured in a tenth wicket century partnership for NSW [forget who with now, damn] and contributed a grand total of three runs.
He rated that as one of his finest achievements in the first class caper.
And of course he was possibly the most hapless, hopeless fielder in the modern era and his various skippers had to work hard to find places to hide him.
Met the bloke socially a couple of times, and he struck me as a jovial sociable normal sort of human being; so you have to admire the paradox that while off the field he behaved like a perfect gentleman, the stories of his on field indiscretions are legion.
There are far too many to mention.
But did like the time he clocked and laid out flat a team mate while playing in the Lancashire league [?], and called his own captain a “useless sh!t”
Or in the more recent past…the time at the start of last season when he got away with just a three match suspension for calling an umpire a “blind cunnt” and then some, in a Sydney grade match.
Or the time when a young Pakistan batsman during the Australia A tour there last year got so completely on his goat, that he utterly humiliated the poor kiddie with such an invective of abuse, that the boy became a jibbering nervous wreck, and never played a good game again.
TSC was sentenced to counselling for that one.
He was once asked why he never showed much emotion on the field [apart from thinly veiled volcanic fury when dealing with underperforming team mates, impudent batsmen or idiot umpires] or celebrated or even smiled when he was taking wickets, to which he replied “it’s too hard to smile, test cricket is just too hard for that”

Remember one day watching NSW play at the Newcastle No.1 Sports Ground.
TSC had just been dropped from the test side, and hadn’t had a very good day in the field turning out for his beloved Blues in the Milk Cup game.
At the end of the day’s play, the team were doing a warm down on the field, when a spectator walking by yelled out “Hey MacGill ! What’s it like when you’re about to join the ranks of the long term unemployed?”
Quick as a flash TSC retorted “Good. And I’ll be the one right behind you in the dole queue, mate.”

It’s always sad to see one of the last eccentrics and genuine characters give the game away.
But he’s done it gracefully, handing his tour mantle to the Casson kiddie to be the 401st.
No one like that will be allowed to play the game for Australia at the top level again.
He will be missed and fondly remembered.


Vale The Great TSC MacGill.

LEICHHARDT OVAL IS MY CHURCH

Denizens of The Hill,

What a cracking afternoon at the spiritual home of Balmain rugby league!
A sparkling picture postcard perfect late autumn day in the Emerald City.
A full house in.
As SC Warren Ryan puts it, “the joint dripping with atmosphere”.
And arguably the best football match seen on the ground since the Triumphant Premiership Year.
All the skills, all the talent on show, a titanic tussle in the forwards, smart kicking games from both sides, and some vintage running rugby league.
After my recent lamentation about the non-inclusion of the Great Kerry Hemsley in the Team of the Century, it was ironic, and very pleasing, to see the great man himself paraded around the ground on the back of a Harley-Davidson as part of the pre-game entertainment!
Don’t know quite why he was honoured in such a way; he was introduced to the crowd and said a few words, but I didn’t hear them as I was on my way to the bar.
He looks like he is on the brink of becoming an old man, and appears to have long lost the Chewbacca mullet, in favour of some kind of tie-died platinum coffuire.
We perched ourselves pretty much on the north western corner flag as it would have been hard work squinting into the brilliant sunshine all afternoon from The Hill.
The good lady wife remarked how the Titans side looked like a “mob of pretty boys” in the warm up in the in goal at our end.
“Joisus”, she said. “You don’t need to be pretty to play rugby league. Just ask Hoddo.”
Benny Te’o crashed over for the first try of the game after gathering in a clever chip kick from Benji on the full, while Robbie Farah just used all his brute strength to barrel over from dummy half and suddenly the Tigers were 12-nil up against the competition leaders.
The crowd went apeshit.
There is no more spine-tingling sound in world sport than the roar from a Leichhardt Oval full house hanging on every play – when the home side scores it’s literally deafening.
They went deathly silent as the Titans scored a very very soft try from one of their first attacking forays.
But went banana’s when there was a 26 man stink right in front of us!
Don’t know what sparked it, but as soon as the referee blew his whistle, it was on.
In truth, couldn’t see that a punch was landed on anyone by anyone, but the Bamford saw enough in it sin-bin a player from either side.
In retrospect it was a very lucky thing indeed that the Great Hoddo decided to take a penalty goal kick in the shadows of half time for the 14-6 lead at the break.
And then it was half time, which saw the funniest half time entertainment ever; as about a hundred under sevens in their junior footy jerseys were lined up, and at the crack of a starter’s gun, were sent on their way on a dash across the field, and then of course all piled up on top of each other once they crossed the touch line!
Someone won it, and everyone cacked themselves heartily.
The bar arrangements were of course sensible as always, with ice cold tins going for a fiver.
With none of this plastic cup nonsense or coins in the change, there was never any long wait, but due to lopsided stocking, was forced to sample the full range as the more popular brands sold out -- so it was pre-game drinks Carlton Draught, first half drinks VB, second half drinks Pure Blonde!
There is probably no other crowd as quite as eclectic as the Leichhardt Oval crowd, even with a distinct (as you’d expect) lack of away fans.
From the baby who couldn’t have been more than a few months old perched on his dad’s knee in front of us, to the little octogenarian ladies in the full Tigers kit who have probably seen every game at the ground since The War, to the wizened blokes in ancient Western Suburbs Magpies jersey’s who were struggling under the weight of beer on board, to the ordinary folk who support neither side who just come in to watch a good game of football, to the utterly insane woman near us, who was clutching a fistful of Tigers memorabilia, including small photographs in frames, a blow up plastic tiger and a scarf close to her chest who crossed herself constantly and continually screamed gibberish throughout as she wiped tears from eyes.
All class.
The best t-shirt of the day was undoubtedly
BALMAIN TIGERS ARE MY GODS
LEICHHARDT OVAL IS MY CHURCH
Closely followed by
IT’S NOT ILLEGAL
(UNLESS YOU GET CAUGHT)
The first half of the second half was the willingest, toughest, tightest rugby league you’d ever want to see, before the Great Hoddo pulled off a beautiful set play involving at least half a dozen quick sets of hands before bursting through the advantage line from about 20 yards out, then scooting into the in-goal underneath the posts without a hand being laid on him.
They must have practiced that move at training dozens of times.
The crowd went completely crazy.
Had to reach for the heart pills when the Titans went over for two quick tries in front of us, to make it 20-18 with eight minutes left in the caper.
Sterling defensive efforts saw some serious Gold Coast attacking raids count for nothing, and the whole crowd bit their collective lip waiting for the final hooter.
When it came, the players all fell to the ground as they had played themselves to a stand still, before handshakes all round, and a lap of honour for the Tigers.
A minute or two after a halt had been called to proceedings, a bloke wandered by with an ice chest strapped to his neck and shoulders calling out in a low melodious voice…
“Icecreams?! Icecreams?!”
Farah was a deserved man of the match – after all, he just ran the show -- Hoddo a close second, Head and Morris did some useful work in the halves, Gibbs, Galloway, Heighington, and Te’o were very strong in the forwards, but the try scoring freak Lawrence was missing in action, and Benji, apart from having a crack at directing the kicking traffic, spent most of the day trying to hide himself on the wing and did nothing.
Little matter.
No-one was worried about the back page headlines in the fishwraps the next day quoting SC Sheens.
“WE WE’RE LUCKY”: SHEENS.
That’s what the punters pay to come to see.

WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Farah, Hodgson, T’eo. Goals: Hodgson (4),
GOLD COAST TITANS 18. Tries: Bowen, Campbell, Cannings. Goals: Prince (3).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 17,493.

Finally, at long last, after all these years, the Swans have learned how to play the get out of jail card in close away games.
It looked for all the world there for a while like it was going to be the same old story…after never being headed all day, lose the lead deep into the last quarter and lose the match by a narrow margin.
Thank gawd for Timmy Schmiffy and Mr McVeigh with the match winning goals at the bitter end
Captain Kirk was probably best on ground, and The Goodes Train and Magic did some good things, but it was most pleasing to see young fella’s like Jack, Moore, Playfair etc put in consistently good games and keep the pressure on the old blokes.
SC Roos must be thinking with Richmond, West Coast, St Kilda and Melbourne coming up in the next month, there’s no reason why the Swans can’t run into a purple patch here, and you generally only need one of those to be nicely in at the weights for a top four finish.

PORT ADELAIDE: 6.1, 9.5, 11.7, 14.10 (94). Goals: Ebert 6, Tredrea 3, Motlop 2, Lade, Gray, P.Burgoyne
SYDNEY: 8.1, 11.4, 13.9, 16.9 (105). Goals: Moore 3, O'Keefe 2, Buchanan 2, O'Loughlin 2, McVeigh 2, Bevan, Kirk, J.Bolton, Jolly, Schmidt
At Football Park, Adelaide.
Crowd: 25,013.

crazed Whirling Dervish on powerful drugs

Spectators,

Happy to find myself among the thirty five thousand odd punters who bothered to turn out at the Western Paddock on Sundee arvo.
A pretty poor crowd by Homebush standards on a sparkling, if a little chilly, afternoon in the Emerald City.
You can always tell when there is no-one in the ground when there is no pressure at all on the bars and food outlets.
It was a simple matter to buy a [$5.80, at least it was cold] beer, and steal a half-time pie.
Perhaps it’s just that Sydney fans are so used to their Rules out west on a Satdee night, that Sundee arvo upsets the apple cart that is their weekend in their Eastern Suburbs and North Shore homes.
Not helped either by the fact that Essendon fans don’t travel, and their support base in Sydney is minuscule.
But the meagre turn out did at least supply some more unusual Bombers fans, including a dwarf with a huge posterior, and a woman down below us in the front row of seats who spent the entire afternoon on her feet carrying on like some kind of crazed Whirling Dervish on powerful drugs.
Who knows what she would have got up to if the Bombers had been winning!
My gals were also goosed by the rare occasion of afternoon football, and they all, to a girl, neglected to bring hats.
The cheap seats are by definition in the piercing sun for the first half of the game [bullfighting fans call the cheap seats the “hot seats”], so the Football Record was fashioned into makeshift head gear.
And what a curious game of football it was.
The Swans played like genuine Premiership contenders in the first quarter, slotting a few quality goals, and keeping the opposition goalless.
The Swans then played like Melbourne in the second quarter, as the Bombers made something of a fight back, and it was by no means in the dilly bag at half-time.
Then there was the pitiful sight of the Great Irishman on the sideline after dislocating his good knee.
Curled up on the ground in the foetal position, weeping like a baby.
He must have thought the injury was a “season ender”.
They gave him a small towel to cover his face and preserve some dignity.
Towards the end of the second quarter the “flood” from both sides reached ludicrous proportions.
Dead set, it was like watching an under-sevens game, played by grown men.
Surely there must be a more elegant way to play the modern game.
And the ridiculous number of interchanges these days makes it all but impossible to keep track of who’s on the ground at any one time.
Those two factors alone are going to make it very tough to bring new fans to the game, and if there isn’t a fear in the top football echelons that the only bums left in seats will eventually belong exclusively to rusted-on die-hards – there should be.
Whatever smelling salts they were giving the Bombers blokes at half time, don’t try it again, it didn’t work
How many clichés can be squeezed into a sentence; perhaps the Essendon wheels fell off as the floodgates opened will suffice?
If the Bombers didn’t know they were in trouble, they did when they were trying to work the ball out of their backline with some hand passes across the teeth of the Swans goal, when the Playfair kiddie just made a simple intercept, banged it onto the boot, and put it straight through the big sticks from 15 yards out.
With the interchange rule the way it is, no one seems to spend any length of time on the ground anymore, so it’s hard to pick a best- on-ground; SC Roos couldn’t; “all played well”
Although you can’t argue with Magic’s six goals in the Marn Grook game [surprisingly he’s never kicked more than six in a match]
It seemed like the great man kicked match winning goals just about near the end of every quarter [missed two – at the bar], and one was booted so high and mighty it collected the metal work at the top of the stand [no mean feat at Homebush] and it took them some time to find the pill!
The Dalai Lama’s Football Representative in Australia kept up his reputation of never having played a bad game, The Ugliest Man in Football was poleaxed in the first quarter, as if he needed a good whack just to wake him up, and then played well, McVeigh was everywhere, and the youngsters Jack, Moore and Playfair went above and beyond.
Swans kicked the last 13 goals of the game as the Bombers fell from the sky like shot birds
Giving opposition sides a ten goal football lesson at the Western Paddock now seems to be a regular occurrence, and the 91 point margin in this one was a record.
Collingwood and Geelong must be quaking in their boots as the ground is rapidly developing hoodoo status as a graveyard for visiting teams.
Alice certainly thinks so.
She called it “game over” at three-quarter time, donned the gold lame, and promptly left the ground for the better option of dinner with her boyfriend.

SYDNEY: 4.5, 6.11, 13.15, 21.17 (143). Goals: O'Loughlin 6, Playfair 3, Jolly 3, O'Keefe 2, Moore 2, Kirk, Buchanan, Barry, Richards, Jack.
ESSENDON: 0.2, 4.7, 7.9, 7.10 (52). Goals: Hille 2, Welsh 2, Lloyd, Neagle, Jetta.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 35, 904.

Haven’t seen a frame of the Tigers game as it was played in Newcastle simultaneously as the Swans game.
But seasoned observers at the ground suggest The Great Hoddo was man of the match for the third week running, and ran in two tries himself to boot.
All reports suggest the Knights never looked like winning in front of their formidable home crowd.
The Marshall Kiddie also earned his pay for a change with two tries, but that didn’t impress SC Sheens in the least.
Heard his post match comments on the radio sports wrap and he was talking like the Tigers had lost – badly.
Suggested that they needed to harden up all over the paddock, and gave young Benji a gigantic tusk up the runter, saying he has a “bad attitude” in defence, and intimated not too subtly that there wasn’t much room anymore for one dimensional players in this caper.
The Kiddie only made half a dozen tackles in a full 80 minutes, and missed just as many they say, so you can forgive the super coach for being filthy as Marshall continues to reinforce his reputation as an immense backline talent, but also a brittle pretty boy.
Still it looked like a good win for mine, on paper.
The proof of course will be in the pudding in this Sunday’s match against the top-of-the-table Titans at the spiritual home of Balmain rugby league.
You will find me on the hill.

NEWCASTLE KNIGHTS 26. Tries: Bailey (3], Dureau, Vuna. Goals: Naiqama (3).
WESTS TIGERS 38. Tries: Hodgson (2), Marshall (2), Fulton, McDonnell, Te'o. Goals: Hodgson (5).
At International Sports Centre, Newcastle
Crowd: 20,154.


Craven.

“played strong, done good”

Selectors,

You’ve always gotta be happy with the points from the bye, with both teams scooping them up this weekend due to a highly unusual combination of representative matches.
Australia and New Zealand playing in the first rugby league test match on the Sydney Cricket Ground in 22 years, and Victoria playing anyone, anywhere, for the first time in nine years.
Noted that there were no Tigers players in the Australian side, although they might have plucked a big brown bastard out of the Tigers reserves to play for the Kiwi’s, who knows?
And only four Swans players managed to get a guernsey for the Hall of Fame Tribute match; Rhino Keefe, The Goodes Train, The Great Irishman, and the Dalai Lama’s Football Representative in Australia -- and that out of two squads of 40 mind you!
Obviously the Chairman and the Three Wise Men in the respective codes took a cursory glance at the form of the eligible South Melbourne and Balmain players, and quickly nodded ruefully around the table “yep, done nuthin’, next”.


SYDNEY SWANS: Bye.
WESTS TIGERS: Bye.

Cannot let the passing of The Great Jack Gibson -- the original “Supercoach” – at the age of 79, go without mention.
Sadly the bloke was so far gorn in his last days that he never even knew that he’d been named as Coach of the Century.
Back in the olden days, in one of my former lives as a cub sports reporter, the rooms would always be approached with trepidation to interview Jack after a losing game.
He was on his last gig by then, and no one could quite work out why he was wasting his time coaching an under-credentialed under-performed Cronulla in ’86 & ’87.
As he himself said at the end of the ’87 season…”waiting for Cronulla to win a premiership is like putting the porch light on for Harold Holt”If they had lost, and you asked Jack for a detailed analysis of the team’s performance, he would always say:
“Done good under the circumstances”.
That’s it.
Nothing more.
You’d then be out of your mind knowing there was copy to file, an angry editor to placate, a beer to be drunk; and the coach had buttoned his lips
He delighted in that.
Apparently, he once said, “there is nothing in the contract that says a football coach has to be sane, or a good loser.”Jack taught me a very valuable lesson in journalism: “don’t quote me, son, unless you have spoken to me in the last five minutes”.And he’d always pick up the phone.
If they’d won, the press scrum would be beaming as Jack would give you enough quotes to fill two notebooks and enough bon mots to last a week!
Loved nothing more than “feeding the chooks” – but only when it suited him.
One of the last great football eccentrics, for mine.
And in the final analysis, he brought modern coaching to the game, and set the template for the meagre handful of Supercoaches who have followed.
Before Jack, the coach was little more than a manager, responsible largely for the half-time oranges and the post-match keg.
Well known for adopting some of the methods of American football; you couldn’t help but notice Jack many times at those legendary mid-week Sydney Swans luncheons at the Bourbon & Beefsteak Bar in The Cross in ‘86, getting in the ear of The Great Tommy “T-Shirt” Hafey, [four VFL premierships], for a few pointers.
He was happy to pick up winners in any code.
And he was one of those ones who don’t mind a drink in a crisis.
No one has, or ever could, argue with his five NSWRL premierships, and he was a scholar and a gentleman to boot.
Vale Jack Gibson.
“played strong, done good”.

foaming at the mouth

Sufferers,

It’s always such fun when both your football teams get beaten in home games on the same weekend.
Don’t think it ever happened during the Triumphant Premierships Year.
Only caught the second half of the Swans game on television after hearing them have six unanswered second quarter goals booted on them on the car radio on the way home, and from there on in, it was always going to be catch up football.
What is it about the Randwick end being such a goal magnet, is it the ghost of the Doug Walters Stand, or something?
But the appalling inaccuracy in front of goal in the Championship Quarter was the end of the section, for mine.
Wasn’t SC Roos instructed to put all the players in front of the big sticks at training this week and get them to bang away at the posts from 50 metres out, all day long, all week long?
Whappen?
Son of Gary, according to some fishwraps, was best on ground for the second week in a row, The Goodes Train was like the Curate’s Egg – good in parts – and The Irishman, McVeigh, Buchanan and Big Ted toiled manfully, but as for the others, well?
Did Spida actually play, did anyone sight the Ugliest Man in Football?
Let’s leave these judgements to those who were actually at the ground and witnessed the debacle with their own eyes.
One thing’s for sure, SC Roos would be on the phone tonight to Balmain Road booking at least a whole day’s session in The Room Full of Mirrors to take advantage of the fact that it’s the only place in Sydney where you can take a good hard look at yourself from every conceivable angle.

SYDNEY SWANS: 5.4, 6.5, 10.10, 14.10 (94). Goals: O'Loughlin 3, McVeigh 2, Buchanan 2, O'Keefe,
Jolly, Playfair, Jack, Everitt, J.Bolton, Goodes
WESTERN BULLDOGS: 3.1, 10.2, 14.2, 18.4 (112). Goals: Johnson 5, Cooney 5, Murphy 2, Hahn 2, Tiller
2, Callan, Minson,
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 29,018.

Mad enough to turn down an invitation to a private box at the Tigers game, and actually slept through the entire match, on account of the ridiculously late start at the Western Paddock and an equally ridiculously early start at the office on Sunday morning.
However, now old enough and sensible enough to deduce that the combination of a whopping great skinful and three hours sleep would have killed me for sure.
Tigers were in trouble, by all accounts, after having a few put on them to find themselves trailing by 16-nil at half time.
The second half comeback was “brave” if you believe the fishwraps.
Learned observers suggest The Great Hoddo had a wow of a game, his second in as many days, having played an outstanding full 80 minutes for City in the 22-all rep game against Country on Friday night.
Constantly inserting himself in the backline and setting up plays all over the shop, but apparently made some blunder due to complete and utter exhaustion late in the piece that led to the Bronc’s match winning try.
Another solid display from the forwards, but the halves were at sixes and sevens, reports suggest.
You just have to look at how well that traitor Scotty Prince is going at the Gold Coast to realize what a massive hole he leaves in the Tigers backline…SC Sheens was quite rightly absolutely filthy to the point of foaming at the mouth when the club couldn’t come up with the right love or money to keep him at Leichhardt, and his description of the Prince departure as a “huge, regrettable loss” is undoubtedly coming home to roost, second season on.
Even so 4/4 keeps them just in the top eight, and you’d have to be happy with the two points on offer from the bye next week, but the next stretch of games against Newcastle, Gold Coast, Easts, and North Queensland will undoubtedly decide the future of the season.

WESTS TIGERS 22. Tries: T'eo (2), McDonnell, Collis. Goals: Hodgson (3).
BRISBANE BRONCOS 34. Tries: Robinson (2), Kemp, Thaiday, Hunt, Wallace. Goals: Ennis (4), Wallace (1).
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 11,177.

complete and utter schemozzle

Sharpshooters,

It’s always a serious worry when players spend more time at the hairdresser’s mid-week, than they do on the training paddock.
D.Jolly seems to have gone for the No.2 buzzcut, and unless there’s been some frightful mistake, it appears J.Bolton has changed his hair colour completely.
Who were the Swans kidding, thinking that they could win a game, any game, by kicking eight goals, especially when the opposition boots nine?
They should have left the lid off the Tin Shed and let in the Melbourne hail and sleet.
That would’ve sorted the men from the boys.
For all the world it looked like it was going to be one of those “bloody point” results, after Magic got his wheelchair mojo working late in the peice for a crucial last quarter goal, but in the final analysis, a draw is not that much better.
Doesn’t matter either that the goal umpire was as blind as a fruit bat and called the last scoring kick through the middle touched over the line, even if Roosy’s missus thought it was a goal.
On interview after the game St Paul said: "I didn't see it, I'm just hearing what people are saying out there - I spoke to my wife, she thought it was a goal, she saw it on telly."
Everyone knows that the Bamford’s are fools to themselves and a burden on the community, epitomized by the farcical scene in the Championship Quarter when the two Bamfords were arguing with each other after both had blown the whistle, each awarding a free kick to the other side from the same infringement, and eventually deciding on a ball up!
Please, give me a break.
If it’s good enough for Roosy’s missus, then it’s good enough for me, but the scoreline is etched in stone in the record books, and that’s that.
And now, as if to complete the total and utter schemozzle, there are reports in the late afternoon fishwaps that the Swans had 19 players on the ground late the final quarter!
Failure to convert narrow losses into narrow wins, especially in away games, is what cruelled the Swans season last year, and it seems the lesson has not been learnt.
Son of Gary was best on ground for mine, and it’s obvious to everyone that the Jack kiddie has a huge future ahead of him.
The Goodes Train was a revelation after copping a gigantic tusk up the runter from the Supercoach during the week; almost had the ball back on a string like the Brownlow days of yore.
But then Nick Davis Come To Save Us did nothing all day, the Great Irishman was obviously still struggling with his groin, and others who should be named and shamed were too preoccupied with which brand of product to put on their bonces.
You can only hope the magic waters of Maroubra did something during the Monday morning smoko; and forget the fancy training drills, if he can only get them out of the salon for long enough, SC Roos should just put everyone in front of the big sticks and get them to kick from fifty metres all day long, all week long, nothing else required.
Is there anything to prevent BBB “Slugger” Hall from being appointed part-time goal kicking coach?
Either that, or it’s an appointment for this season’s first visit to the Room Full of Mirrors.


NORTH MELBOURNE 1.2 3.7 7.9 9.10 (64). Goals: Jones 2, Thompson 2, Hale 2, McIntosh, Campbell, Harding.
SYDNEY 3.5 4.7 6.10 8.16 (64). Sydney: Goals: O'Loughlin 3, Goodes 2, Davis, Bird, Jolly.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 28,392.


Saw very little of the Tigers game as it was played simultaneously with the Swans game, and the television coverage was on an hour delay, but spies at the ground suggest some solid work again from the forwards was just enough to get the money, with the Lawrence try scoring machine kiddie managing to get over the goal line twice, pretty much unmolested.
The Great Hoddo was apparently man of the match by general acclamation, despite leaving his kicking boots at home.
But even SC Sheens, who undoubtedly has the finest insight into this strange game of any coach of the modern era, was baffled by the result.
How’s this for a few bonmots from the Supercoach’s post match interview?
“I don’t know how we won that game, to be honest”
“We lost it, we won it, we lost it, we won it.”
“We did some silly things. Any thing could happen, did happen”
Crikey, if he can’t work it out, what hope have we mere mortals?


CRONULLA-SUTHERLAND SHARKS 16. Tries: Kearney, Seymour. Goals: Covell (4).
WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Lawrence (2), Heighington, Hodgson. Goals: Hodgson (2).
At Shark Park, Cronulla.
Crowd: 17,241.