safely locked up at Lords

Aghastees,

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

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

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

wept openly

Disappointees,

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

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

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

The Fear

Bleacherites,

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

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

Craven.

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

only themselves to blame

Coronary Arterists,

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

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

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

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

beyond belief

Screaming believers,

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

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

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

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

a hard road to hoe & a saloon passage

Rabid Loyalists,

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

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

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

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

yoof and experience

True Believers,

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


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


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


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