in the Viper's Nest

Fellow RevHeads,

Fresh from the utter madness that is Formula One qualifying at the Australian Grand Prix, found myself on Saturday night in the Viper’s Nest.
The Prince of Wales Hotel on Fitzroy Street, St Kilda, to be precise, with a noice view over the bay and Coopers Ale on tap.
And only a drop kick from the Junction Oval, and then a banana punt to the now all but derelict Lakeside Oval, for that matter.
In for the local derby given that the only thing that separates St Kilda from South Melbourne is Albert Park.
There was some consternation among the patrons just on kick off as the televisions continued to show the Brisbane v West Coast game, as die hard Saints fans berated the bar staff along the lines of “What the fcuk is that crap on for! Don’t to know where you are, you fool?”
It was then that my mate Trev decided it might be a good idea to remove his Sydney Swans “loyal member’ cap that he had been wearing all day, but it was too late, he had already been spotted, and of course, couldn’t hold his tongue.
Someone with a frightened look on their face soon scurried out from behind the front bar with a channel changer and all was right with the world.
The Swans, uncharacteristically, opened the new football season on fire, with loose men everywhere and winners all over the park.
Then, inexplicably, they went to sleep.
On the snooze, siesta time baby, comatose, not back from the tropical islands just yet.
Soon after half time it all became too much as yet another goalless quarter loomed, and the lure of the tapas bar just up the road became irresistible, after which Trev dipped back into the pub just in time to see the last minute dénouement and a miserable 15 point defeat.
Taxi!
Noted in The Age the next morning SC Roos quoted as saying that he questioned “the commitment” of some of the senior players [crikey! this early in the season?!] given that kicking five goals in the first quarter looked good on paper, but then just four more for the entirety of the rest of the duration cruelled any chance, given that “it is very difficult to win games” when you can’t even kick ten goals in a match.
Earlier in the day, had spotted a wild eyed bloke with a shock of sandy coloured hair barreling along Fitzroy St as if he was unstoppable.
He was wearing a t-shirt that read “I Bring Nothing To The Table”.
Perhaps he was referring to the Swans ageing roster and ‘leadership group’?
Probably a bit harsh with what seems like autumn barely upon us, but the proof will be in the pudding come spring.
Will refrain from comment on individual players given that tickets in the cheap seats are in hand for the Hawks game this Saturday night at the Western Paddock, where you’d expect the bookies to be offering a generous price about a Swans win and the umpires to be given a frightful bollocking.
Considering dressing myself in my newly acquired bright red Ferrari polo-shirt; in solidarity with losers.

ST KILDA 1.1, 4.4, 9.6, 12.8 (80). Goals: Milne 3, Koschitzke 2, Gardiner 2, Dal Santo 2 McQualter, Goddard, Gram.
SYDNEY 5.4, 5.6, 5.6, 9.11 (65). Goals: Grundy 2, Goodes, Hall, Jolly, Jack, Mattner, Bevan, O'Keefe.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 32,442.

It’s remarkable how the legion of Melburnian sports fans, who are well known for gathering in numbers to watch two flies crawl up a wall, display no interest whatsoever in the rugby league, despite having an NRL Premiership Cup in trophy cabinet.
They will tell you the Storm’s home ground is always full of ex-pats and it’s best left that way.
So of course, not seen a single frame of the Mighty Tiges game, not even on the news reels.
Some correspondents who were at the ground suggest that Benji had his best game ever, while others put Robbie ‘The best Leb in game” Farah down as man-of-the-match.
Farah is certainly putting his hand up early for the vacant spot in the NSW side, while the Tigers are well aware that for them to go anywhere, Benji just has to have a stellar season.
It’s as simple as that.
SC Sheens would have been down in the Secretary’s Office on Monday morning opening up the Coaches Ledger, and scratching the appropriate mark in one of the two neatly ruled columns headed in copperplate with “we’ll take our wins” and “we’ll learn from our losses”.
Perhaps rugby league is too easy to understand for those south of the Mexican border?

Sydney Roosters 24 Tries: Aubusson (2), Kenny-Dowall, Anasta. Goals: Fitzgibbon (4).
Wests Tigers 40 Tries: Lawrence (2), Collis, Farah, Ryan, Tuiaki, Moltzen. Goals: Marshall (6).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 14,426.

the legion of tifosi

Bear baiters,

Found myself on Saturday night tidying up a few loose ends from a minor mid-life crisis, so didn’t see a frame of the Tigers effort in Townsville.
Probably a good thing too, if you take a glance at the scorebox.
Appears the Balmain boys were competitive in the first half, but then were overwhelmed by the tropical heat and humidity, and the floodgates inevitably opened.
Seasoned observers at the ground were also reported as suggesting that Benji Marshall appeared to be “gun shy” in his new role as half back.
They say he looked to be unwilling to take the ball up over the advantage line in apparent fear of getting monstered by the opposition forwards [and who could blame him after two shoulder reconstructions?], and is therefore delivering the ball well inside the ten metres, producing a set of flat rucks and a flat-footed backline, that then finds it difficult to conjure anything much at all as they start running into brick walls.
It’s just a shame SC Sheens can’t hide him on the wing.
But then again, there’s probably no place to hide in modern rugby league anyway.
The first result of the new year, taken with this score from the second, and the tea leaves suggest that it could be “one of those seasons” – yet again.
In Melbourne mid-week on another pilgrimage to the Australian Formula One Grand Prix, so there is a very slim possibility of getting along to The Dome on Saturday night for the Swans first season hit out against the Saints.
Much more likely be joining the legion of tifosi as they make their way around their favoured watering holes in the old home of the Swans – good ol’ South Melbourne – imagine with a few under the belt could get the “keep South at South” chant going.
There’d be a few takers.
Probably be more profitable to get along to The G on Thursday night and have a better time baiting Cuz.
The Iceman cometh.

North Queensland Cowboys 42. Tries: Kaufusi, Webb, Bowen, Burns, Payne, T.Williams, J.Williams, Goals: Thurston (7).
Wests Tigers 14. Tries: Tuiaki, Morris, Moltzen. Goals: Marshall (1).
At Dairy Farmers Stadium, Townsville.
Crowd: 19,879.

Gus Gould on drugs

Diehards,

It’s always pleasing when your football team wins the first game of the new season.
At best it engenders the general wellbeing of hope springs eternal in the breast of the optimist, at worst it give the serial pessimist a vague sense that maybe this year they won’t be damned to the horrors of the bottom end of the premiership ladder come September
Failed to get out to the No. 3 home ground at Campbelltown, on the “wouldn’t go that far on my holidays” principle, and in any case found myself on a Monday night otherwise engaged doing a couple of things in Dad’s Shed, so had to climb up onto the roof and adjust the aerial to get a good FM reception, for the quite often bizarre MMM Monday night football call, after giving up on the ABC call from Canberra on AM666, on account of there mustn’t be much power going through that transmitter during tough times by Government decree.
Gus Gould – must be on drugs -- why else would he sing the Rooty Hill RSL theme song, badly, on the radio during a football call?
Otherwise inexplicable.
After being down by eight points at half time, it was noted that the Mighty Tiges scored three unanswered tries in the second half taking full advantage of a green team that had run out of puff in this early stage in the caper.
The end scorebox suggests defence needs some work, but there are going to be plenty of options in attack, you’d suspect, with the scarily huge Mr. T. on one wing, and the try scoring freak Lawrence on the other.
Did like Todd “The Refrigerator” Peyten on interview after the game on being asked about the decision to play Robbie Farah off the bench, to be injected into dummy half after half time, say it was “a bit of gamesmanship, a bit of smart thinking there” with no need to reference Super Coach Sheens, because everyone knew who he was talking about.
Farah by all accounts had a super game and was by far and away the most important of the off-season re-signings for mine.
All that first grade experience in a relatively short career [96 games], perfect physique for his role, and a large football brain, wouldn’t come particularly cheap, even when he is shockingly unsung when it comes to the NSW selectors.
But, that’s another whinge.
Not convinced by Marshall at half back, given he’s a natural outside centre, but SC Sheens must think people learn as they get older, and it’s never too late to teach an old dog new tricks, given that Benji is but 24 years old, which is hard to believe, as it seems like he’s been playing forever, and has had a couple of shoulder reconstructions to boot.
But you can never knock what must have been a bargain re-signing, as he was on reduced match fees last year anyway.
The spotlight was put on Tim Moltzen as the full back [and he’s a five-eighth looking to recreate himself] replacing the Great Hoddo, and it appeared that he acquitted himself well enough.
Only needs to be steady with good hands in defence, as the go forward should look after itself.
Also noted that the Gareth Ellis kiddie was man-of-the match in some circles.
A shrewd signing; not many Poms have ever made it in Sydney first grade, but he has already pulled on a Great Britain jersey, and by all accounts has plenty of class about him.
As a footnote, The Great Johnny Skandalis has apparently had enough of the wastelands of northern England and returned to Sydney, and the old club, in some sort of coaching/mentoring/advisory role, although no one can say with any certainty what it is exactly that he does, as he picks up a small “legend’s” sinecure.
Perhaps he makes the cut lunches?

WESTS TIGERS 34. Tries: Tuiaki (2), Farah, Payten, Lawrence, Moltzen. Goals: Marshall (5).
CANBERRA RAIDERS 26. Tries: Carney (2), Purtell, Milne. Goals: Campese (5).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd 17,392.

disinterested bystanders

Crown Prosecutors,

It wouldn’t be a rugby league season without the whole shooting match being kicked off with a good ol’ fashioned rooting scandal, would it?

Did like the Manly position this morning, making a determination that it was sweet for Stewart to play, on the innocent until proven guilty principle, despite the fact that he is facing serious police charges; only to find the NRL this afternoon suspend the mad rooter, unilaterally, off its own bat, without a judiciary hearing, for four matches, no appeal, and then slapping a $100,000 fine on the club, payable in 30 days thank you very much, for allowing what was always designed as a massive pisssup for the sponsors to get completely out of hand.

There are independent witnesses to the mayhem.

Who would have thought the players would have refrained from getting absolutely shiit-faced when confronted with the full array of free mixed drinks and then some, while being told to go for it?

With various groupies, daughters of captain’s of industry, and sundry hangers on milling about, its only one step of logic with the assistance of the evidence of disinterested bystanders, for the cops to conclude its bleedin’ obvious to everyone involved that Stewart poled an unwilling youngster in some grubby northern beaches unit block stairwell last Friday night.

“Get yourself a lawyer, son, you’re gonna need a real good one”.

By the way, this Tigers team named here has first grade experience to burn, if nothing else.

Rocky Trimarchi was standing at a bus stop on the Balmain Road doing nothing in particular when he was picked up by the talent scout on the way through to the leagues club on the strength of his name alone.

Huge future trading on that one.

Wests Tigers V Canberra Raiders
Monday 16 March 2009 19:00 [AEDT] - Campbelltown Sports Stadium
Referees Tony Archer & Gerard Sutton
Sideline Officials: Russell Turner & Steve Carrall
Video Referee: Chris Ward

TIGERS: 1. Tim Moltzen 2. Taniela Tuiaki 3. Dean Collis 4. Chris Lawrence 5. Beau Ryan 6. John Morris 7. Benji Marshall 8. Bryce Gibbs 9. Robbie Farah 10. Keith Galloway 11. Gareth Ellis 12. Chris Heighington 13. Dene Halatau
Interchange: 14. Rhys Hanbury 15. Rocky Trimarchi 16. Todd Payten 17. Daine Laurie; Reserves: 18. Corey Payne
RAIDERS: 1. David Milne 2. Phil Graham 3. Adrian Purtell 4. Joel Monaghan 5. Justin Carney 6. Terry Campese 7. Marc Herbert 8. David Shillington 9. Glen Buttriss 10. Josh Miller 11. Glen Turner 12. Bronson Harrison 13. Alan Tongue (c)
Interchange: 14. Stuart Flanagan 15. Trevor Thurling 16. Joe Picker 17. Nigel Plum; Reserves: 18. Brett Kelly

boerewors and sosaties

Tourists,

Pleasing to see the Australians file off the plane at Jo’burg and head straight for the nets, leaving The Captain to fondle The Ridiculous Mace for the camera’s and bleat the usual platitudes for the press.
The Vice Captain would have immediately retired to his sick bed to nurse his sore Social Finger and employ a highly-skilled slightly-built four-and-a-half foot female therapist to walk up and down on his worrying recurrence of Shagger’s Back.
Best cure known to man.
At least the administrators have had the decency and sense to tell the WAG’s to stay at home, at least for the duration of the first test, as there’s a bit of serious business on here.
Pup has always been a player who has been plagued by niggles, but battled on through the pain with a smile on his face, but it’s a real concern that now at the age of 27, those niggles are getting to a stage where they prevent him from playing from time to time.
Nothing worse than a fragile Captain, who is forced to take regular leave of command.
It must have the medico’s scratching their heads.
Trust the Seth Efreakens to pull the first swifty of the caper by naming a 4th XI for the only tour match, on the grounds that the blokes who would have regularly made the 2nd XI are busy with domestic Twenty20 cricket over the weekend and “can’t be spared”.
While the game was never going to amount to much more than centre wicket practice, the mind games are already being played.
The PJ Hughes kiddie, for example, could come out and stroll to a century against a sub-standard attack in his first representative appearance for Straya, and then think he is the best thing since bottled scotch.
The Kat has promised to take young Phil under his wing and guide him through the tour, extolling the virtues of dedication, application, and controlled violence, [“now, son, if you ever feel the need to throttle the Vice Captain, for heaven’s sake, just make sure you do it gently”], but it will be no easy task with a young fella who knows he’s shiit hot and will have difficulty keeping his big head small enough to fit through the dressing room door, let alone a bloke who has never experienced one of cricket’s swift and spectacular falls from grace.
Just ask Dave Warner, who’s yet to do anything for Straya, and suddenly finds himself back in club cricket, after probably unwittingly condemning himself with the willing complicity of the selectors to stereotype, and seriously jeopardizing his chances of ever playing first class cricket into the bargain
[Joisus! NSW even resorted to opening with Greg “Snail” Mail in the recent Shield match against Victoria, when he couldn’t score a run in recent district cricket, and has proven himself over the years to be a spectacularly consistent failure at the first class level].
At least Hughes might get some appreciation first up of why Seth Efreaken crowds are known world-wide for their warm heartedness, kindly spirit, and magnanimous appreciation of the game.
The local punters will no doubt remind the Strayans that the only Kaffir [and we are not talking about limes here] they have ever picked in living memory is not only dropped, but suspended indefinitely, on account of mental instability, and an over fondness for the drink.
It will be interesting to see how MJ Clarke gets on as a leader of men, given the undoubted tensions in the team, and his now unabashed and public hankering to pinch Punter’s job.
The Veldt is a dangerous place, where seemingly sane men can go completely mad overnight; cracked by the mental torture of quick turn around test cricket, and/or sent troppo with a whiff of the braii up their nostrils, and a skinful of Castle Lager under their belts.
The proof of course, will be in the pudding, or in this case in the boerewors and the soasties.

thinking hats

Fruit pickers,

Noted that the Chairman and the Three Wise Men put their thinking hats on today to pick a team for the Veldt.
Fuehrer Hilditch, no doubt, would have got out a blank team sheet and a pencil and scratched MJ CLARKE (NSW) at the top of the page.
First picked.
Big Merv, Boonie, and the Mystery Man would’ve looked on and nodded; then he wrote down the name RT PONTING (TAS).
Never mind allocating the (c) and (v-c) assignations, that’s up to The Board anyway.
At that moment the CA Tea Lady knocked on the door and wheeled in her trolley set with a delicious Devonshire Tea, so while the selectors were helping themselves, they asked her to cut a few names out of the papers and drop them into a Baggy Green that just happened to be lying around the room.
Out came the names one by one, and phrases like “too young”, “too old”, “too crippled”, “too boozed and mentally unstable” were bandied about, but occasionally The Chairman would mutter “he’ll do”, and voila!, there you have it, a 14 man squad to be led like so many lambs to the slaughter.
And yet, as at 10PM Wednesday, there appears to be no announcement chattering to life on the old bush telegraph in the corner of the loungeroom.
You could only think there might be a touch of tooing and froing over ports about whether to break their own too old/too young policy and pick McGain at 36 and Hughes at 20 as potential debutants.
Or perhaps they are arguing over brandy and cigars about the fact that there hasn’t been a half-way decent Australian all-rounder since Keith Miller.

It’s been a particularly busy couple of weeks for Pup.
First he injures his Social Finger in a late night mishap and has to miss a couple of one-day games because the batting hand’s buggered, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise as there were a few wedding arrangements that had to be signed off with the agents, then he has to come back earlier than expected on account of how woefully the team is traveling, then has to take over the Captaincy after Punter was ruled out on account of the hitherto unusual injury of “too tired”.
Then, unbeknown to him, CA had to send out an SOS call to the jewelers to get a second Alan Border Medal minted so they didn’t have to cut the one they had in half.
It appears that Pup and Punter now have two AB gongs each in the Trophy Cabinet.
The bookmakers ruled a line through the book and stopped taking bets on Test Player of Year a long, long time ago.
All the while he’s been mulling over whether or not he should put himself on the chopping block at the Indian Premier League meat market in Goa at the reserve price of $US1,000,000.
Not that he needs the cash - the wedding photo’s will be worth that much in No Idea.
Probably a bit peeved that he is rated by the auctioneers as being worth $US350,000 less than K.Pietersen.
But, if the truth be known, it’s most likely that he wants to save himself from the embarrassment of not attracting any bids at that price, in these troubled times, given that he has always hoisted his petard as a test match player, who happens to also have a pretty handy 40 odd average in the one-day caper, but has generally been rubbish in the handful of Twenty20 games that he’s played.
Plus the IPL promoters are reported to be getting cold feet about the Australians who are likely to go on the Ashes tour, given that they won’t be available for the whole comp and will have their minds elsewhere.
Give it a wide berth, son.
It’s beneath you, and, let’s face it, there’s no future in it.

The New Messiah

Adorationists,

There was some animated talk mid-week among the wise men and fools scattered along the front bar at The Local about whether MJ Clarke’s effort in Sydney was his best test match hundred.
The Old Sage in the corner lifted his brandy and soda to his lips, nodded, and simply said “probably”.
Then someone piped up with “what about that hundred he scored in the West Indies – you know the one – first game back after he’d been late getting to the tour on account of his missus’ old man had shuffled off the mortal coil and he was suffering a recurrence of Shagger’s Back? Problem with it was - no one saw it – it was in the middle of the night here, and there was no one in the ground – just The Man and His Dog, a few dozen ground staff and a handful of journo’s -- and it took the best part of two days before they got around to printing an account of it in the papers. You remember.”
There were a few furrowed brows, other big scores were considered, and then most agreed that your maiden test match hundred on home soil is by definition, always going to count as your best, no matter how many more you make.
Of course, there was no disagreement that it was a superlative match winning knock.
And there is no doubting it’s the kiddie’s best domestic summer by the length of the street, and he could, at a pinch, rightfully lay claim to the title The New Messiah; he’s been called on to save that many people, that many times.
His 98 in Brisbane certainly saved Australia from ignominious defeat by the SheepShaggers, and they would have gone down much more heavily against the RhinoRooters and probably lost the series three-zip, if it wasn’t for him.
His cover driving and off cutting is getting more and more reminiscent of The Great KD Walters by the day, and some coaches have obviously been to work on his leg side play.
He seems to have, by and large, solved his LBW problem, and is a much better thinker on his feet when it comes to game situation while at the crease.
A quick fiddle on the abacus down in the games room reveals that Pup scored exactly 600 test match runs over the summer which would have almost certainly topped the aggregates, at an average of 75.00, which must have topped the averages too.
His overall average in 40+ test matches is now edging up to very close to 50.
A fine effort for a bloke who was dropped mid-way through that lot, and has batted almost his entire test career at No. 5
The proof of the pudding, of course, will come when he gets to Africa; once the aroma of the braai gets into his nostrils, and the lure of the iced mixed drinks and impossibly beautiful women hanging around in bars gets to him [as it did on his last visit to the Veldt], who knows what will happen.
At least he won’t have the problem of being tasked with breaking up fights that Roy gets himself involved in, not this time around.
That way, he might even have time, if he has room, for another tatt.