Where is Grimsby?

Bored spectators,

What to make of the ill-fated, meaningless, 50-over tour of soggy ol' Engerland?
The 0-4 result certainly had the whole country all a twitter, and captured the imagination of the general public.
No idea why they played it at all, really.
MJ Clarke did not appear to be happy about any of it, claiming Australia had been "bewitched", "bullied" "blindsided" "hoodwinked", or some such euphemism, by an England side made up almost entirely of foreigners.
He must have been humming to himself...."Where is Johannesburg? That's in England! Where is Cape Town? That's in England! Where is Peitermaritzburg? That's in England! Where is Dublin? That's in England! Where is Perth, Western Australia? That's in England! Where is Copenhagen? That's in England! Where is Grimsby? That's in Lincolnshire."
No great worry, and certainly something that doesn't warrant anything like a Royal Commission.
Best left forgotten, as it surely will be.
Pup's record as an unbeaten skipper in a test series remains intact.
And let's face it, nothing else matters outside the Ashes when it comes to taking on the Old Enemy, and they've got exactly 12 months to get ready for that, with the first Ashes test due to start on 10 July 2013.
Perhaps Australia is the first of what will eventually be every country who've just given up on one-day cricket as a creaking, out-moded format well beyond its use by date, and will pour all their resources into the development of two very different, and hopefully very good teams in the Twenty20 and Test Match arena's.
Maybe it's time to let the Packer legacy go after all these years.
You know it makes sense.

a basket case full of excuses

Diehards,

It had that air of inevitability about it.
What with Balmain having a basket case full of excuses.
SC Sheens was forced to field a scratch, makeshift, hastily cobbled together ensemble that he couldn't have trained as a unit all week.
They played brave and some how managed a 10-4 half time lead, but it was never, ever going to be enough against a Bulldogs outfit playing in their best form in years.
Things were not helped when Lote "What'd I do Guv?" Tuqiri went down inside the first ten minutes with a broken arm after a collision with a team-mate, in the shape of, you guessed it, Adam Bloody Blair [could rant about how Blair literally stops, comes to a complete halt at the advantage line! But won't].
Obviously, that's season over for Lote, and sadly, it could well be career over too.
He's not getting any younger, and if anything, is probably getting uglier with age, and for a bloke who's been plauged by injury in the past two years who's been struggling to renegotiate a contract with the Tigers [who aren't prepared to give him another two years] it could well be the finish of an illustrious career as a dual international.
Tragic way to go out if it is.
Plain awful to see live footage of the bloke with his arm in a sling in the first class medical facilities at the SFS being shown the x-ray print by the radiologist, which clearly showed a radical break in the bone.
At least Lote could develop a lucrative career in retirement as a consultant advising up and coming players on how to "Live The Lote Life", i.e. how to have a mighty fine time off the field without drawing any attention to yourself.
There'd be money in that.
Matty Utai was out at the last minute and Timmy Moltzen also failed to take the field without notice, forcing Beau Ryan to full back, where he's ill equppied to play, thus leaving both wings exposed after Tuqiri went off.
Joel Reddy, who was plucked from nowhere [probably the bar] to play, had a very good game despite thinking he had to cover for every position where they were well down on talent.
Add to that the long term mischief done to That Pom Ellis, who'd be lucky to get back before September, and it's looking eerily like yet another season cruelled by injury.
Haven't gone through the old team sheets, but SC Sheens would not have been able to field the same team from one week to next at any stage of the season.
The Club Secretary now has a problem.
From being touted as a Premiership favourite at the start of the year, and being ensconced in the top four a few weeks ago, they've now slipped clear out of the top eight into ninth at the two thirds mark.
He'd have the abacus working overtime and would have the boardroom divining rod out, trying to work out the probababilty of making the finals at all.
And the mathematics are reasonably stark.
The Tigers are eight wins and eight losses with eight games to play - four against teams above them on the current ladder, and four below.
The Stats Guru was quick to point out that winning four will not guarantee them a start in September, any less will be certain death, so they have to in effect win almost all of the last eight games to make it, and the lot to get back in the priceless top four.
Whatever margin of error they might have had is now G-O-R-N.
Gawd crikey, the boss would be thinking, the gate receipt projections will be shot, and if they don't make it deep into the finals the club balance sheet will be worse than Barclay's Bank.
So where will the money be to replace the casualties and lop off the dead wood?
Little wonder The Secrertary is prone to palpitations and night sweats.
Having lived in the heart of the Canterbury Bankstown district for 14 years, it's always very hard to swallow losing to the Bulldogs.
Never mind that they have nasty supporters and have the worst ethos of any club in the caper, it's just the sickening sight of Bulldogs merch on people down at the shops that upsets me.
Not feeling so good, so popped into the Front Bar at The Local on Monday morning for a medicinal snifter.
The Brown Bros were in a boisterous mood and well pleased with the recent form of their beloved NZ Warriors, or as they prefer to call them, the Auckland Worriers.
The Philosopher looked up from his perusal of the back pages of his fish wrap and spoke:
"As Socrates used to say 'looks like it's all buggered'", before refocussing his attention on his high ball of vodka & tonic with a twist of lemon.

WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Iosefa, Lawrence, Reddy, Ryan. Goals: Marshall (2).
CANTERBURY-BANKSTOWN BULLDOGS 32. Tries: Morris (2), Reynolds (2), Barba, Inu. Goals: Inu (4).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 19,034.

It had that air of inevitability about it.
A solid, reliable [except for the occasional inexplicable brain fade] well-coached football team up against a mob who consistently struggle against good sides.
Brained 'em cold in the Champo and went on to give 'em a seven goal football lesson.
And, however momentarily, go top, with a healthy boost to an already impressive percentage.
Go top, eh?
Who would have thought it possible at the start of the season?
Must be doing something right.
It's probably got to do with the theory that champion teams will always out-do teams full of champions.
Apart from The Train and the Jetta Kiddie, none of them get any mention in the fishwraps.
Craig Bolton used to say he liked the fact that he could walk down any street in Sydney at any time and not be recognised, let alone be asked for an autograph.
And there they are, undisputably, top.
And yet, even with the introduction of a two-team town this year, the marketing has been hopeless.
Swans are still relegated to the inside pages of the back pages, get no coverage to speak of in the Melbourne press, and they can't even attract 20,000 punters on any calculation to HQ on a fine, albeit brisk, Saturday evening.
They talked about them flying under the radar in the Monday morning editions with little understanding of how it happened.
SC Roos and Mr Ed have only been working on it for the past seven years, since the moment they won the last game of the season in the '05 Miracle Year.
It's taken that long to get the mix of yoof and experience exactly right.
Pleasing to the Young Sam Reid Kiddie find some touch in the goal square and boot six maximums.
Perhaps he will after all fufill his promise of becoming a proper full-forward, something the Swans have been sadly lacking since Big Bad Barry Hall went west.
Nice to see The Train back on song after a difficult fortnight on the field, while Odd Head McVeigh celebrated signing a new two year contract that will see him retire as a one-club man, with a very good game indeed.
The highlight of the game would have to be In Like McGlynn not happy about Black going on with a tackle and letting the big bastard know all about.
Ben wasn't having any of it, and was quite happy to take on a bloke twice his size in the jostling and air-slapping that substitutes for a stink in the AFL nowadays.
The Stats Guru has calculated that at eleven and three, even if the Swans lose all of their remaining seven games they will still make the top eight, they've got away that much.
If they win the games they are expected to, then it's home finals time, baby, and if they also beat West Coast away this weekend and Collingwood at The Bush in a few weeks time then they will give the Minor Premiership a very good nudge.
At the least, it's valuable to play good sides in the run home, so you can get out the yardstick and measure yourself by it.
While it's never a good idea to get ahead of yourself on account of the wheels could fall off the bandwagon at any moment, as they say in the classics, Sydney is "well placed".

SYDNEY: 4.2 10.7 15.12 16.14 (110). Goals: Reid 6, Goodes 3, McVeigh 2, McGlynn, Hannebery, Jetta, Pyke, O’Keefe.
BRISBANE: 3.4 7.4 8.7 9.9 (63). Goals: Rich 2, Brown 2, Karnezis 2, Raines, Crisp, Bewick.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 19,419.

tremendous waste of time and money

Sceptics,

Me mate, Risky Business, was up from Melbourne for the week and found himself at a loose end on Saturday night and thought going to the footy might be a good way to pass the time.
He was Sadly Mistaken.
The Youngest, who'd also tagged along for the game, had a prescient experience to start.
Just as we got off the special event bus at Homebush she shouted "farking scored! free beanie!" as she picked up a well worn Swans beanie on the ground that had obviously fallen out of someone's bag.
She untied her hair and let it down and put the thing on her head, saying "whoever lost this is going to have a really shitty night out"
Never mind that it was the worst game of football witnessed in recent times and was a very very poor advertisment for the code in Sydney, the most notable feature of the match was the almost complete absence of Giants supporters in the quite simply pitiful crowd of 22,565 [the Stats Guru was quick to point out that it was the second worst AFL attendance at the ground in a decade].
There was very little evidence of anyone in orange coming through the gates, or in the dunnies, the bars and food outlets [which were by and large deserted - no queues at all], moving along the concourses, and certainly not on the bus that begins its journey at Maroubra Beach.
Sitting in the general admission area - the only part of the ground that was half way full - and you could, literally, count the number of Giants fans on the fingers of one hand.
If the fanciful claim that GWS really do boast 10,000 members is true, then it appeared that 9,850 of them didn't bother to turn up.
Even a cursory glance at the attendance figures at the brand spanking new Sydney Showground reveal atrociously disappointing crowds for Pygmies home games [in what is reportedly a very comfortable, well-built, and well thought out new stadium - as it should be, for the cost]; crowds at Swans home games have also been not at all flash this year [even in a ground that's half-closed for renovation] - and that for a team that is sitting second on the Premiership table and is in with a tip-top chance of making the priceless top four, and even taking out the minor premiership - for chrissake - if they continue to play well.
Now, everyone knows the AFL is clearly made for television these days, but on the evidence seen to date, far from the introduction of a two-team town in this city being a shot in the arm for the code on this side of the island, fearing Australian Rules Football is actually going backwards in the Emerald City.
And there was northern Tasmania crying out for a team, and as the Business commented "jeez - they'd even do better in Darwin".
Muddle headed thinking can be excused, but there's no justification for sheer stubborn stupidity on the part of the fools who purportedly run the caper, not to mention the tremendous waste of time and money involved, for mine.
As for the game itself, Son of Gary was the stand out best on ground in a side full of mediocre performers, and it was enough for him to win something called the Brett Kirk Medal.
What the?
Seems they'll give away gongs for anything these days.
At that point, the Good Lady Wife said it was time to go home [given that they haven't adjusted the bus timetable to account for the shift from the 7.10pm game start to 7.40pm, so the match ended at the plain silly time of 10.25pm and the last event bus left at 11.00pm, and it's a fair walk for a couple of old cripples from Gate H to the bus stop = ridiculous], a call that was long overdue.
The Pygmies do have a few very big units in the forward line, but the long and short of it was that it was Men v Boys, which in any other code would be declared an illegally unfair contest and banned, in case any of The Boys got seriously hurt or died.
Oh, and The Train took a speccy that will be on the Mark Of The Year showreel.
And the Jetta Kiddie kicked a couple of pearlers from a long, long way out, incuding one that defied the laws of physics.
Trying to convince myself that that was worth the price of admission alone, but really, apart from that, the match had nothing whatsoever to recommend it.
The crowd failed to be inspired at any stage and were mostly next to silent, faced with that kind of spectacle.
The place wasn't exactly dripping with atmosphere.
There was a bloke sitting across the aisle from me in a jacket the colour of a beige turd who didn't move an inch throughout and sat there showing no emotion or expression on his face, for all intents and purposes, motionless, as if he had done something really evil and had been turned into a Pillar of Salt.
At least he had the good sense to leave at three-quarter time.
Rather than being at the much trumpeted magnificent new era of the AFL, it was like being at a funeral.
Coach Horse only said on interview after the game "well, that was that, now we move on".
He mumbled something about percentage, which is now up to 144.2%, but the Weagles and the Bombers are not far behind on that score and are also on 40 Premiership points.
The top five have got away, with 2nd to 5th now 16 points clear of 9th.
In reality, the bottom ten teams [and three of them are hopeless jokes] are just scrabbling for the last place in the finals at best, which throws the current competition into stark relief.
All in all, a very tawdry affair; a scenario that's likely to be repeated for years to come when these two teams meet.
Or, it will all end in tears.

SYDNEY SWANS: 3.4, 8.6, 14.10, 19.18 (132). Goals: Jetta 3, Goodes 2, McGlynn 2, Kennedy 2, Jack 2, Roberts-Thomson 2, Reid 2, Everitt, Hannebery, Pyke, Mumford
GREATER WESTERN SYDNEY GIANTS: 1.2, 2.5, 4.7, 5.8 (38). Goals: Ward, Cameron, Giles, Palmer, Greene.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 22,565.

No news is good news in the second bye week.
You can only hope that the Best Leb in The Game will power the engine room and lead New South Wales to glorious victory over Queensland in Good v Evil III, and come out the other end of the worm hole unscathed.

WESTS TIGERS: Bye.

The Debacle in Newcastle

Long sufferers,

Just plain silly, is probably as good a way to describe it as any.
To kick seven goals zip in the first quarter, and then 12 in total, and almost lose the unloseable game would have had Coach Horse at the end of his tether for the second game on the trot.
What the??
It certainly had me reaching for the jar of heart pills in the final quarter.
Lucky there's powerful pharamcueticals about the house.
Certain cardiac arrest averted.
The scorched earth policy in the first quarter; to come out with all guns blazing and the flamethrowers hard at work, is fine and dandy if you can then consolidate it into a solid following three quarters, all the time maintaining a match lead.
But they can't.
The vexed problem of the fade out, or as it's known 'round here, the Swans sleepy bye-byes time.
My spy at the ground, perched high up in The Gods, left early in the Championship Quarter, for the two and a half hour drive home [thankfully Country Members get a significant discount on their tickets for the time and trouble they have to go through], pushing through a message on the Bush Telegraph in the corner of the lounge room:
"Sick of the shitty football, the wind, and the cold".
Who could blame him.
The Train was not at all comfortable playing in the cotton wool suit he'd been provided with by the Football Dept.
It was clear he'd come back too early.
Just before the Cats miraculously got in front, poor ol' Goodesy was subbed off with Spida Jnr replacing him.
Who would have thought a nephew of Peter would be the most unlikely of saviours, kicking the Swans winning goal with seconds left on the clock?
Bizzare.
At full time, the Bush Telegraph spat out another message.
It was from the Youngest Daughter, who was looking at it on a telly at some pub somewhere:
"Could barely stand to watch the last ten minutes. Ridiculous."
Well said.
Still, as they say in the classics, a win is a win is a win, and you'll take any you can get.
And a good get it was too against Geelong.
Hoisted Sydney well clear of the mid-table log jam, and more or less consolidated them in the top four.
Bring on this weekend's game against the Pygmies at The Bush.
Loose the bears on the midgets, and let the gaming begin!

SYDNEY: 7.0, 8.2,10.6, 12.8 (80). Goals: McGlynn 2, Reid 2, Jack 2, Bolton, Armstrong, Jetta, Pyke, Kennedy, Everitt.
GEELONG: 1.1, 3.3, 6.6, 11.8 (74). Goals: Podsiadly 2, Chapman 2, Motlop, Selwood, West, T.Hunt, J.Hunt, Enright, Hawkins.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 27,400.

You can't consider yourself a real fan unless you travel.
So found myself on Monday night deep inside enemy territory ambling up the ramp to the more or less brand new Joey Johns Stand at the Newcastle International Sports Centre, now known as Ausgrid Stadium.
It's an impressive structure, just the right scale for a provincial ground, with the seating bays, the people flow, the dunnies, the bars and food outlets arranged on the brilliant Olympic Stadium Homebush model, on a much smaller basis, of course.
Never mind that the stand is named after a bloke who spent his entire legendary career coked & iced to the eyeballs - Newcastle people don't worry about that when it comes to one of their own.
It's all changed an different now, and yet it somehow felt like old home week [after all, did live in Our Town for two and a half years] with thousands upon thousands of Tigers fans streaming into the ground to the point where they almost outnumbered the Knights home fans.
And they sported perhaps the most colourful and diverse array of costumes ever seen at an away game.
The boys from ZZ Top with their waist length beards were in, in their ancient Western Suburbs jerseys with the Masterton Homes sponsor's logo, and even saw a quite rare Wests Magpies top displaying the Victa Mowers brand.
You are going way back there.
There were plenty of old Balmain guernseys, and the odd lunatic here and there, including the very fat, short bloke who teamed his baggy shorts and socks and sandals with a white business shirt and a yellow and black striped tie, with an enormous top hat made out of blue fluffy felt with a Tigers scarf wrapped around it.
Things got even more loopy at half time, when a bloke was seen who was into some crossing dressing thing, wearing a Richmond Tigers jacket, while another had on a hand-knitted orange jumper with a Collingwood Magpies scarf around his neck.
But my favourite by far was the chap in the NE smoking lounge [which has a panoramic view over the entire trotting track] who had on an unbranded yellow jacket and a black t-shirt with white lettering on it which read KNIGHTS SUCK.
Overheard him saying to a Newcastle fan who was talking to him "Nah. I don't come to the football very much".
Little wonder, in that get up.
In stark contrast, the all pink and black uniform the Balmain players were wearing in honour of some nonsense known as the Women in League Round didn't suit them.
They did not look pretty in pink
Everything appeared to be lovely-jubblies at 14-0 after the first ten minutes, with That Trying Scoring Freak going in for a well worked try through the centres, and Lote "What'd I do, Guv?" Tuqiri scoring a trademark regulation wingers try, taking out the corner post in the process, and The Great Benji bagging a penalty goal - but then suddenly, it all went to shit.
Started to go down the S-bend when Balmain were in a first class field position and Ray Bloody Cashmere decides to put a stink on in the scrum.
Punches flying everywhere, but nothing landing, so Ray just gave away the penalty for starting it and got a talking to from the Bamford.
That seemed to really fire up the Knights, and the biggest, meanest, blackest, bastard back in the Newcastle side, Timana Tahu, then proceeded to smash open the Balmain right edge, not once, not twice, but three times.
leaving Matty Utai flailing in his wake each time as he was overwhelmed and over-run.
Gawd crikey.
The Ute hung his head very low as he trudged off the ground at half time, and rightly so.
Was rather vocal in the barracking duel with a few Knights fans around me, [startled them by breaking into song when Lote scored, with the ditty "Lott-ee, Lott-ee, Lott-ee! We're livin' the Lott-ee life!], so did cop a "go back to Balmain, where you belong" on the way up to the bar at the break.
Fair call.
So just put on a broad smile and threw my hands in the air.
To compound the woefulness, the Tigers were robbed blind in the second stanza, with the Bamfords very happy to freely award home crowd penalties, and then came the coup de grâce, with Be My Beau Ryan sent off for ten minutes to the sin bin mid-way though the last half for allegedly going on with a try saving tackle after the tacklee had been called held.
Joisus!
It looked perfectly legit to me, but the refs obviously called it a [border line at best, for mine] professional foul, so off you go, son.
Utterly outrageous.
Any chance of winning was gorn, then and there.
Poor ol' Robbie Farah still looked cut up after his mother's funeral mid-week, and failed to make much of an impact, most of the forwards played poorly, and Marshall just could not get the mojo working off a platform that wasn't there.
SC Sheens was not a happy camper after the game; not so much bothered with the send off or the appalling Bamfording, just cranky about the slipshod defence for the second week in a row that allowed two games to get away that the Club Secretary had been banking on winning easily.
Too scared to look at the ladder -- the top eight has got away from the bottom eight, but the Tigers must now be sitting in the bottom end of the top half after two unexpected losses.
The second bye week this weekend can't come soon enough.
No doubt the super coach would have booked in a long, hard session down at the Room Full Of Mirrors on the Balmain Rd to keep them occupied.
On the full time hooter did the cap abuse thing; tearing off the Tigers headgear and chucking it on the ground in a desultory fashion and stomping on it good and proper.
A nearby Knights fans called out "Oi! That's no way to treat a hat!".
Just beamed an idiot grin back at him and said "Don't worry about that, mate, it just adds character to the thing".
On wandering out of the ground, the 11 year old boy who was in our party commented out of the blue "That Benji Marshall knock-on. That was the game changer".
It seemed fairly insignificant at the time, but on reflection, the lad's observation was dead right.
The young fella obviously has more insight into the game than gibbering codgers like me.
Aftewards, there was nothing for it but to repair to my ol' mate Trev's gaff, and get plastered.
That sort of thing tends to happen when two old blokes who are long time Balmain supporters who don't mind a drink in a crisis get togther when they are tired & emotional.
On Tuesday morning, hobbled onto the platform at Broadmeadow station [the signs say "Home Station of The Newcastle Knights" - spare me] and spotted a grizzled Tigers fan, still in the kit from the night before, chain smoking while he read the Newcastle Herald, all the time shaking his head.
When the train to Fat City arrived, he got up, binned the paper, got on, and promptly fell asleep.
Obviously, had had a gutful.

NEWCASTLE KNIGHTS 38. Tries: Tahu (3), Houston, McManus, Uate. Goals: Roberts (7).
WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Lawrence, Tuqiri, Iosefa. Goals: Marshall (4).
At Hunter Stadium.
Crowd: 18,687.

a minute's silence

Mourners,

In all my time going there, there's never been a minute's silence at Leichhardt Oval quite like it.
When some old codger who once played football for Balmain who no one can remember anymore dies and they call for quiet, there's always children screaming and scuttling about between the legs of the grown ups and loud voices can still be heard from the bars.
Not this time.
Just before kick off it was announced that The Best Leb In The Game's mother had died that morning and so he wouldn't be playing.
It appears The Captain had only told his coach and players the news 90 minutes before the game by text.
[The family didn't tell Farah that his mum had been admitted to hospital on Wednesday before he went out and played perhaps his greatest game ever, putting on an heroic and record 63 tackles for NSW in the win over QLD in State of Origin II. Looks like everyone knew that if Mrs Farah was taken to the hospital - she'd long been suffering from pancreatic cancer - that would be for the last time].
The ground was stunned, and in the proper full 60" minute's silence that followed the announcement, all twenty thousand punters stopped in their tracks, and you could literally hear a pin drop.
Very eerie, given that a packed Leichardt is without doubt the loudest rugby league ground in the world.
And packed it was [only a few of thousand short of the never to be repeated ground record - now that's full].
Anticipating a healthy attendance, we arrived at the ground 40 minutes before kick off, and even then all the good standing room was well gone.
So the Good Lady Wife started animatedly pointing at people and jabbing them with her Swiss hiking pole [a formidable weapon] until they squeezed up to create a sliver of space just big enough for two old cripples to sit on the low stone wall in the north-west corner.
Bless.
The view isn't very good from there, but it's better than none at all.
Then unfolded a game of 'too many easy yards' from both sides.
Balmain lost the match in the first half, but came back strongly in the second stanza - as Easts had their turn to lose the plot - to give themselves half a chance, before you know who got in the way.
Not one to dis on any Tigers player, but Adam Blair, really?
Said it before, say it again; whatever they paid him to come across from Melbourne as the marquee forward is obviously way, way too much.
Blair has done nothing all season, and has been little more than a passenger in every single game.
In this match, two of his just plain dumb attempts at an off-load pass while going down in the tackle resulted in lost possession and directly led to Roosters' tries, he dropped the ball cold late in the match just when the Tigers could smell a faint whiff of a highly unlikely victory, and he couldn't lay a tackle on even slow moving targets, let alone get anywhere near fast moving ones.
No football brain at all, he's got a split pea rattling around in that weird head of his.
Just about at useful as awnings on a submarine.
Not alone in my poor opinion of the joker.
Other punters in the crowd offered free and frank assessments such as "Go home, Blair, you're rubbish!" and "Hey Blair! You are useless. You don't belong at Leichhardt".
The sooner they trade him back to where he came from, or into oblivion, the better.
No one will mind where.
The Bamfords tried their best to impose themselves on the game, but in the end found themselves struggling to keep up with the pace of what was happening in a very high scoring match..
The forwards were uncharacteristically missing in action, so it was very difficult for the backs to find any go forward from mainly poor field positions, while battling to cope with an opposition that had the heavy artillery trained on them.
Lote "Wot'd I do, Guv?" Tuqiri put in his strongest game of the year, for mine; guarded the all important left edge very well, ran straight and strong, and decided to throw his weight around for a change, something the big black bastard should do more often.
Matty Utai battled on gamely all day, The Great Benji tried hard, but there was little structure in the play with no one deciding if they really wanted to play hooker or not, and even less of a game plan, and with no Farah and no Sirro Jnr, both out at short notice, no cigar.
So that's the end of a very valuable purple patch.
No magic carpet ride from here.
SC Sheens summed it up nicely on interview after the game: "To talk about the game today seems a waste of time. It's something I'm not particularly interested in. We feel more for Robbie than anything else at the moment. When things like that happen it makes stuff like rugby league insignificant."
Witnessing Balmain boys crying on the field, as we did, during the minute's silence only goes to remind you that it's only a game.
Good to see Robbie named at 9 for this Monday's walk in the park against the hapless Knights in Newcastle.
It'll do the world of good for everyone.
At least on a lighter note, the wags in the scoreboard love a laugh and always like to alter reality, and post the home side's best ever win at Leichhardt, against that particular opposition, at the end of the match
They the changed the nameplate on the scoreboard from WESTS TIGERS to BALMAIN TIGERS, and even managed to find an old EASTERN SUBURBS plate to replace SYDNEY CITY ROOSTERS, and posted the score Balmain 59 Eastern Suburbs 4...and then loaded in the numbers "1952" in the top right-hand corner of the scoreboard.
Always a jolly jape; win, lose, or draw.
Did like the sight of the day.
An elderly couple who looked well into their 70's shuffling arm-in-arm around the outer at half-time.
The woman was wearing a hand knitted Tigers beanie that looked like some kind of strange hedgehog and was sporting the full current Tigers kit, while the old man wore well worn boots and jeans and had on an ancient, faded Eastern Suburbs jersey.
They were gesticulating wildly and poking each other with their free hands.
You can only imagine what their conversation would have been like over the dinner table after the game.

WESTS TIGERS 28: Tries: Ryan (2), Utai, Galloway, Moltzen. Goals: Marshall (4).
SYDNEY CITY ROOSTERS 42: Tries: Guerra, Waerea-Hargreaves, Cordner, Anasta, Lasi, Pearce, Kennedy. Goals: Anasta (7).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 20,327.

Before going to the Tigers game we had the good fortune to drop in at a Leichhardt institution - Bar Italia.
It's been there for more than 30 years knocking out great steaming bowls of piping hot pasta and cups of outstanding coffee for the masses.
It's better than a pie at the ground and they don't muck around with the menu.
The Chinese cooks who now man the kitchen have been well versed in the Italian traditions, so nothing has changed at all over the years.
There's always a convivial crowd of like minded punters in there before any Balmain game.
Think back slapping complete strangers.
Which, for some reason, got me to thinking what the Swans were up to on the bye weekend.
Back in the day of the split round, the Swans would gather at SC Roos' place on their weekend off for a compulsory full-on BBQ and a bit of team bonding over a keg before the traditional Collingwood game at Homebush the next weekend..
It's all changed and different now, of course.
Wonder if Mr Ed maintains the tradition?
Probably not, as Coach Horse strikes as a more prosaic type, who wouldn't have the time nor inclination for that sort of thing.
Doubt that he'd find much room for any fun in a very serious business.

SYDNEY: Bye.

the juggernaut

Bandwagoneers,

The juggernaut rolls on.
Make that seven wins on the trot plus the bye.
And a very good away one to get, Melbourne [down on their Origin stars, but clear favourites for the JJ Giltinan Sheild], in Melbourne.
It was a close run thing, though, with the Tigers uncharacteristically tiring badly in the final 15 minutes, after doing a mountain of defensive work in the pouring rain, to the point where they looked for all the world that they would be over-run.
But in those situations, it is up to the forwards to stand up and not let it happen - and only good teams do that.
As SC Sheens remarked "over the past two or three years we have played good wet weather footy, we can defend, play tight, kick well, chase well..."
Hanging on by the skin of their teeth isn't something the Tigers do often, or very well, so they would be well pleased to, as they say in the classics, "get away with the win."
Sirro Jnr contines to impress in just his third game in top grade.
He's obviously a specialist five-eighth, which may limit his opportunities in the modern game that increasingly favours utility players.
But, he's got all the skills, and by the look of some deft, clever moves, seems like he's got a football brain on his shoulders - unlike his legendary father.
The kid could be anything...as SC Sheens says "Curtis still qualifies for the under-20's for the next two seasons".
But the coach quite rightly reserved his praise for The Great Benji, captaining the side under sufferage with the regular skipper, The Best Leb in The Game, in camp with NSW.
Set up both tries from set plays that they must rehearse endlessly in practice; the jink, the step, the swerve off about the 15 metre mark.
Marshall is the complete master at it, no question.
Eastern Suburbs at Leichhardt this weekend won't be a walk in the park, but Newcastle at Newcastle the following week should be, and then it's the second bye.
If they continue to be on song, Balmain should whip-saw both of those mobs and brick in a place in the all important top four.
Even at the definite risk of me putting on the mock on them, thinking both games might require my attendance.

MELBOURNE STORM 6. Tries: Nielsen. Goals: Widdop (1).
WESTS TIGERS 10. Tries: Tuqiri, Utai. Goals: Marshall (1)
At Melbourne Stadium.
Crowd: 11,274.


How bizzare, how bizzare.
And not for the first time this season that a game has been turned on its head.
Yet another Swans performance that was pretty well completely inexplicable
99 times out of 100 would would have expected there were no coming back for a side that had kicked 1.11 to half-time while having eight goals kicked on them.
Let alone booting just 2.15 to the end of the Championship Quarter.
How is it that Sydney were 42 points up at three quarter time, and went on to win by 4?
And only just snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, when some boofhead Bomber elected to play on in the long shadows of full-time, instead of claiming the mark and going for the long range set shot, just as the final siren sounded.
The hooter would still be ringing in the fool's ears.
Game over.
It was that close in the end.
What the?
Wassup?
How did it come to this?
An absolute coach killer.
Mr Ed would have been pulling whatever hair he has left clean out of his bonce, in great tufts.
He would have been on the phone at full time booking a mid week session for the boys at The Room Full Of Mirrors down on the Balmain Rd.
On interview after the game, Coach Horse was bereft of any explanation- just threw his hands in the air and with a quizzical look on his face, asked the interviewer "how did that happen? you tell me."
Frustrated with early season slow starts, it's now obviously in Plan A that the Swans try to come out of the blocks like Usain Bolt and smash the opposition stone dead from the off.
That's a very good idea, but there doesn't appear to be a Plan B for when things go inevitably awry.
Did they think they'd done enough and taken the foot off the gas, or where they just over-run?
It's hard to say.
The two final quarter goals (to nine, mind you) proved to be Sydney's saviour.
It would have been extraordinarily embarrasing if they had lost that one.
Game over.
But really, even though they need to take a good hard look at themselves, in the final paralysis, it doesn't matter how you do it; when you are on The Reality Bus, an away win, is an away win, is an away win.
Thought Old Jude Bolton probably got the three Brownlow votes, much to his own astonishment, while the Jetta Kiddie and JP Kennedy could have picked up the others.
Kennedy is a genuine smokey for the Chas, the way he's going; gets no press, but plays the way the Bamfords like, and take notice of.
The Swans, miraculously, have gone top of the table after 12 rounds, but only by some quirk of scheduling with the the bye rounds now coming into play, and their very healthy percentage on the for and against.
Still, top is better than bottom, and everything else in between, for that matter.
This week's bye will be be a welcome chance for everyone to draw breath and settle the nerves.
Marn Grook.

ESSENDON: 1.5, 1.11, 2.15, 11.16 (82). Goals: Davey 3, Watson 2, Hocking, Howlett, Leroy Jetta, Lovett-Murray, Myers, Stanton.
SYDNEY: 5.3, 8.6, 11.8, 13.8 (86). Goals: Lewis Jetta 3, Jack 2, Reid 2, Bolton, Everitt, McVeigh, Mumford, Roberts-Thomson, Shaw.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 47,625.

frightened by everything

Weathermen,

Seems like the home side were frightened by everything, especially the wet track and the driving rain in the first half.
They tried to play traditional wet weather football; pigs rooting in mud in the forwards, with an arm wrestle in the backs, but the Tigers were having none of that.
They took the Supercoach's advice early on to eschew expending energy in the bog, and just put the ball on the toe and make it a lop-sided lottery in your favour with the centre three quarters and the wingers that you've got.
Kick and chase, kick and chase, kick and chase; kick early, kick often.
And it worked a treat...
Of course, it also helps when the opposition drop the slippery pill just about every second set and give away no less than six first half penalties, mostly for offside.
Balmain just went, OK, thanks for the invitation, we'll score points early, score points often.
Game over at 0-20 for Canberra at half-time.
With things going awry, the Raiders could hardly rely on their fans for inspiration, with the supporters staying away in droves - albiet off a low base.
My spy at the ground suggested that Be My Beau Ryan's second-half try set up would be well up in there in the try of the year show reel.
Shrugged off half a dozen tackles in a bustling 60 metre gallop, did the jink and the step at the end, sold the dummy to the full back, then put it on the toe for a dribbling grubber that had that Try Scoring Freak Lawrence scooping up on the line to score as he planted the pig skin fair and square in the in-goal, right next to the corner flag.
Running rugby league at its finest; a more perfect rugby league try you couldn't buy.
Another example of the home players being frightened by everything - the radio commentator trotted out an oldie but goodie "Ryan was covered in spiders there, no one wanted to touch him".
The stats guru was quick to point out that the Raiders have only ever been held to zero twice at home in the club's history in the top flight, and this one was by far the worst.
Balmain's away record at Canberra Stadium is so good that It appears Marshall has never played in a losing side there - and he's been going 'round a while.
The Best Leb in the Game has his usual corker of the game, Benji had a hand in almost every try, while Aaron "Woodsy" Woods and that bloodnut Keith "Keefy" Galloway led the pack with strong running and ferocious tackling throughout.
Lucky one or other of them haven't been picked, as expected, as the spare prop on the bench for NSW for State of Origin II, with the selectors opting instead to pluck some complete unknown rookie from Penrith from obscurity.
Can use them both this week, with Farah in camp again with NSW.
Wandered into the Front Bar at The Local on Monday morning, and was surprised that the Brown Bros weren't in.
Someone said they were busy with some urgent council footpath repair work a couple of streets up, but would be back in time for lunch.
The Philosopher hates the cold and wet weather.
After a weekend of it, he was rugged up in his usual corner wearing a grey coloured scarf to match his mood, nursing a double Bundaberg OP, no ice of course...no sir...rather, slowly sipped as it warms in the cupped hands.
Thought nothing of it when the sage didn't say anything, but slightly puzzled when he took a Keno pencil and scribbled on the back of a used betting ticket and handed it to me.
It read "6+1=4th".
He was right.
Six wins on the trot plus the bye sees the Tigers in the top four at the exact half way point in the season.
An interesting short term draw too, with Melbourne this week without their State of Origin players [and they supply plenty, "the Big Three" for instance], followed by the hapless Roosters at Leichhardt, and then Newcastle away at Turton Road, followed by another bye.
If they play their cards right and win all of those, or even two, they'd be well and truly on the start of a magic carpet ride.
But, as SC Sheens would always advise, there's no use getting ahead of yourself, except if you are the Club Secretary hard at the office abacus trying to turn the beans into profits.
St Tim just marked that one down in the "we'll take our wins" column in the Coach's Ledger.
Certainly no crowing or fuss to be made of it.
On interview after the game he said no more than "it's not very often you hold a home side to nil, and I was just pleased that we managed to play to the game plan throughout, and we got the result"

CANBERRA RAIDERS 0.
WESTS TIGERS 40. Tries: Farah, Fulton, Lawrence, Murdoch-Masila, Ryan, Sironen, Utai. Goals: Marshall (6).
At Canberra Stadium.
Crowd: 9,210.

With the scoreboard showing at quarter time: Swans: 9 goals, Bamfords: 1 goal; got the dog to fetch my pipe and slippers, put the feet up, and had a jolly good puff.
Game over.
Goals were priceless in the conditions, but nine in the opening stanza on a bog track?
Almost unheard of in the modern era.
Still, a brilliant game plan from Coach Horse.
As the rain tumbled down he would have asked the dressing room "hey! you lot! which one of you reckons they can play wet weather football?"
A few of them would have put up their hands.
Mr Ed would then have said "OK, we'll go with those blokes with their hands up, the rest of you, just sit on the football".
Mid-field followed the plan to a tee; rely on winning the ruck, bomb it long, a bit of a short run, a stab kick into the square...and...goal!
The whole sequence takes less than a minute, but it is mighty effective, when the skies are grey.
The Bulldogs appeared to be another team frightened by everything; the constant rain, a muddy cricket pitch, the derelict de-seated stands, the size of the Sydney raindrops, playing on one of their infrequent visits to the hallowed turf, the Transit of Venus, who knows - but it left them unable to grasp what was going on, or do much more than scrabble about for an erratic ball, with no success.
The mix of yoof and experience will always win out in the end, and a good example here -- the Hannebery Kiddie and the Son of Gary, along with Old Jude and Odd Head were well up there for Best on Ground, not to mention the likes of In Like McGlynn, Rick Shaw, Teddy Richards, and the Flying Jetta all having good games too.
[It's very difficult to believe that Jetta has played 50 games already. If it's true, he's taken quite a while to get out of nappies - but the Football Dept were right to persist with him; seeing a potential superstar who'd come good in the end].
But, with that lead, who would have thought of six more goals - to one - in the Champo and a 15 goal football lesson in the denoument?
That's very good in any football language.
A bit of honesty at the turnstiles saw the lowest crowd total posted at the SCG for a Swans game in 28 years.
Just goes to show Swans supporters are supremely fickle and positively allergic to unfavourable weather of any kind.
They much prefer to have a Chardy in hand, darling, by the fireplace in their rather comfortable multi-million homes in the Eastern Suburbs, with the basket weaving equipment handy.
Still, it's hard to read much into it - cruel thrashings tend to do no one any good, as a general rule.
One of those ones where Sydney really only holds station on the table, but improves it's already healthy percentage out of sight.

SYDNEY: 9.0, 10.5, 16.9, 20.12 (132). Goals: Jetta 4, McGlynn 3, Dennis-Lane 3, Bolton 2, Jack 2, Roberts-Thomson 2, Reid 2, Kennedy, O'Keefe.
WESTERN BULLDOGS: 1.1, 3.1, 4.5, 5.10 (40). Goals: Picken 2, Cordy, Wallis, Veszpremi.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 13,505.