sandbagging started before the game even began

Beach lovers,

Been a denizen of the East Coast of the island for nigh on 30 years now, the most part of it in the Emerald City, and cannot remember a worse season for the "August winds", a well-know phenomenon in these parts.
This year they turned up six weeks early, and have been howling on and off ever since.
The biting gale seems more freezing than in years past - bone rattling - as it sweeps in from the south-west over the vast expanses of suburbia affectionately known as "Sydney's armpit", routinely gusting to 70-80kph, after being funneled in off the Great Dividing Range and onto the wide open Cumberland Plains.
Everone's saying they are the worst in living memory, and who's to argue?
Not me.
There's no denying something's going on with the weather.
You can only throw a rug over yr shoulders and pop a tea cosie on yr head, and cup a small glass of brandy to warm in your hands to ward off the shivers.
Why has any of this any relevance to the question at hand, you might ask?
Well, anyone from Melbun, on hearing the winter weather sob story from the Emerald City would say "Perfect weather for football! What are you on about? Hard'en up!"
Certainly, the punters scattered about the stands looked utterly miserable on the telly in their ice-suits and woolly hoodies as they sipped hot drinks and guzzled smuggled booze from their Thermos flasks.
The only thing my Spy at the Ground could offer was a desultory "cheer, cheer".
And all they came to look at was the Swans having another routine, albiet rather brisk, Saturday evening stroll in the park doing just enough to win, never mind that the Bombers put in a good effort in the Champo and came within ten points at some stage, it was never in doubt from the first bounce.
And that, after the sandbagging started before the game even began.
The officials were told an hour and a half before the opening hooter that L.Franklin would not be playing, and T.Membrey would step into the breech in his absence.
It's all by the book as long as you offer a good excuse for a last minute injury; "knee soreness", "general soreness", "complete rootedness" will all do just fine.
So long as the umpires have something to sign on off in the scorebook.
Marvellous.
And there will be a few more with creaking bones who'll take unscheduled "rests" between now and then, mark my words.
The Goodes Train would be a prime candidate.
He knows what September is all about, and it's truly remarkable how he manages on one leg at his age, only a yard or two slower than he used to be, hasn't lost any of all those skills, and can kick goals.
What money to have the Strayan of the Year on your side?
Checked the boards at my bookmaker's the other day and found the Swans posted a clear shoe-in to win the Premiership, and JP Kennedy a very short priced favourite in a field chock full of runners to win the Brownlow Medal.
For the most part unbackable.
The most astonishing thing about the season so far, after their really atrocious start, is that the wheels have never looked like falling off, movie-style.

SYDNEY: 5.3, 7.8, 9.8, 11.13 (79). Goals: Tippett 2, Goodes 2, McGlynn 2, McVeigh, Rohan, Pyke, Kennedy, Reid.
ESSENDON: 1.1, 3.4, 6.6, 8.9 (57). Goals: Ryder 2, Myers, Ambrose, Howlett, Carlisle, Hurley, Heppell.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 36,804.


What a strange week in Tigertown.
The skipper Robbie Farah on "stress leave" on account of he's "very upset", but what exactly he's upset about has never been clearly explained, except that some buffoon north of the border called Gordon Tallis has been putting words into his mouth.
Tallis, of course, has never played for Balmain and has no right to be meddling in their affairs, so why would you worry about anything the bloke says?
Who cares if he is badmouthing you behind your back?
Especially as the buffoon is well known for untruths and hyperbole.
The Club Secretary says if he's done anything to offend The Best Leb in The Game, then he'd like to talk it over with him and sort it out, without actually articulating what needs to be sorted out.
And then Coach Potter found it necessary to hold a rare Sunday press conference ahead of the Monday game to explain himself, and defend himself against criticism from faceless men who should know better.
Can anyone tell me exactly what's going on here??
With all the palaver of the last fortnight or so, it's easy to lose sight of the fact that there are football matches to be played every week.
So it wasn't surprising that the Westen Suburbs Magies faithful failed to turn up in their droves to Campbelltown "wouldn't go that far on me holidays" Sports Ground.
The blokes on the comedy radio commentary got a tweet asking if the crowd was dead in the fx mics, to which they said "no, it's just that there's no one here".
The match itself went to script, at a predictable 6-12 down at half time, it was only a matter of time until the floodgates opened.
Balmain went in with the early try and it was all down hill from there as they were out-foxed by a team of seasoned professionals on their game.
By all accounts, the Tigers played like they were unsettled.
They're no show like that for September.
It'd be much better if they failed to make the eight at all, rather than get eaten for breakfast in the first week of the finals, and shat out the other end.
Good to see Simon Dwyer was at the ground.
Now there's a bloke who's had shocking luck.
A promising career cut short when he snapped a few tendons off his spinal cord attempting an innocuous tackle in some nothing game, and now has no use at all of his right arm at age 25, three years on.
Seems some influential people in the Injured Players Benevolent Fund noticed that Simon had fallen on hard times, but was reluctant to ask for help.
They didn't owe him anything, but they promptly organised a very large testimonial dinner for him at a ballroom at some 5-star in town and raised more than $300,000.
Then at the ground through sponsorship, donations, raffles etc they raised another $70,000.
At least the poor bastard won't end up sleeping under a bridge that way.
Now there's a club looking after its own...

WESTS TIGERS 6. Tries: Akauola. Goals: Richards: (1).
MELBOURNE STORM 28. Tries: Koroibete (2), C.Smith, Chambers, Waga. Goals: C.Smith (4).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd; 7,782.

a turn up for the books

Eternal Optimists,

Well, there's a turn up for the books.
As My Spy at the Ground remarked "just goes to show Balmain can still win against good sides, and win well".
Never mind that Canterbury simply didn't turn up to play, uncharacteristically out of sorts for a top three side.
Tigers played it simple, because it's a simple game; the forwards went forward and gave the backs room to move at will, but the secret was all of their well worked set plays paid off and resulted in points on the board.
To wit, just before half time from about 15-20 yards out - The Best Leb in The Game worked the ball out of dummy half and it sailed clean across the whole backline, six or seven sets of hands, the ball carriers were jinking and weaving and throwing dummy passes left right and centre, no less than three decoy runners were deployed to confuse the defence and the pill ended up with the winger, running at full pace, on the right touchline, who found himself essentially unmarked, with his opposite number off balance, and cruised through to plant the ball on a hankerchief next to the corner post, then took out the post all arms & legs style as bodies piled up on top of him as he slid into the advertisting hoardings.
Gold.
Show me a better set play this year, from any team.
Said it before, say it again: no finer sight in world sport than running Rugby League.
You could kinda feel a thumping coming on.
Keefy Lulia - now there's a name to conjure with - equalled the joint venture club record for scoring the most the tries in a match.
Only two other blokes have scored four in a game, don't ask me to name them, the Stats Guru knows.
Keefy, eh?
Another one that Coach Harry rescued from the Dark Satantic Mills of English rugby league, and brought him back to Leichhardt.
Lulia knows the caper...busted out of reserve grade purely on sheer form, and sat on the firsts bench for a few games before being named in the run-on side, and thought to himself that given he'd been given the chance, he might as well have his finest hour.
How it used to be done back in the day.
Bravo.
And all this was after a week when Coach Potter was told that there was a high level whisper from the board that if he didn't change his attitude and win on the weekend, then his name and position would become an agenda item at this week's board meeting.
He told 'em to get lost.
It was all kept in house, hush hush, but there is no doubt that the boss came close to getting the tap on the shoulder.
A couple of journo's sniffed the smell of dead meat, but didn't have more than mere speculation to publish on, no one was talking, only a little bird singing.
At least Harry now knows that he's skating on thin ice and who is paying his not inconsiderable salary.
It's very harsh to blame the coach for mine, given the horror injury toll in the first half of the season, a bit of argy bargy in the selection process, and other shit out of his control have all contributed to a fairly ordinary season, thus far.
Still, he'd be well aware where the buck stops.
And there's no easy run home for the Tigers.
Propped my walking stick up againt the front door at the Front Bar at The Local on Monday morning, and with the aid of a typically Sydney wild & wicked westerly gale [known in these parts as "The August Winds". In July? Something's going on] it flew open to reveal the Philosopher in his usual corner leafing through the morning's fishwrap.
The Barmaid had thoughtfully fetched some cubes of cheese and cabanossi on little sticks from the pokie lounge to nibble on as he savoured this week's favoured tipple - a vodka on shaved ice, topped with orange and mango juice out of a two litre bottle that's handily kept under the bar, garnished with a twist of lemon - he calls it an 'Ogo Driver', or just an 'Ogo' for short.
The Philosopher reached for his biro, circled the scorebox on the back of the paper, peered over the rims of his glasses, poked his bony finger at it and said "well, that was a close run thing, eh?"
PS. Don't get me started on The Great Benji Marshall. He'll keep.

WESTS TIGERS 46. Tries: Lulia (4), B.Thompson, Sironen, Brooks, Woods, Gavet. Goals: Moses (2), Richards (3).
CANTERBURY-BANKSTOWN BULLDOGS 18. Tries: Inu, Lafai, C.Thompson. Goals: Hodkinson (3).
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 22,225.

No word from Swans HQ in ten days - not a squeak, not an inch of newsprint - as if everthing and everyone has been in lock down, with nothing to do.
Hope they've all got a good book to read.

SYDNEY: Split-round bye.

an ornament to the game

Free Radicals,

Things did not auger well from the off.
Tigers found themselves robbed blind within the first three minutes of the match, when a perfectly good Balmain try was disallowed by a seriously vision-impared Bamford by the name of Shane Hayne [whatever possessed the Hayne's to call their son Shane is anyone's guess].
Shane didn't even consult with his touch judges or refer it upstairs to the TV ump, then moments later allowed a very dodgy Manly try at the other end - just blew the whistle and pointed at the spot - which was duly converted, to gift Manly a 6-0 lead in the blink of an eye.
The Tigers morale was shot then and there.
They knew that not only were they up against a very good side, in front of their highly partisan home crowd at that shitful hole known as Brookvale Oval, but they also had to battle a hostile referee...and to make matters even worse...the Mad Monk, who took up his seat in the stand as the Manly No.1 ticket holder, so they also had a nasty Prime Minister agin 'em; a bloke who hates anyone who lives south, east, west of The Bridge and is determined to rub their noses in it.
The flappy-eared buffoon must have taken much delight in seeing The Fibro's being spanked by the Silvertails first hand, as those who aspire to the cloth, do.
Coach Harry must have been thinking "what is it that I can do?"
That's probably the season nadir.
The abacus out the back of the Secretary's Office says it's not season over just yet, but Balmain has an unusually tough run home.
There has been talk on wires of how some sides have been given soft draws, and are only prominent because of them, but the Tigers certainly aint among them.
That's all well and good, but September usually sorts the men from the boys, and it's rare in the modern era to have lowly ranked teams barge their way through to the Grand Final.
Guessing Staff HQ would be taking a good look at the playing roster with an eye to the future.
There's no shortage of Islander kiddies who can play, in the lower grades, but they don't have much money to buy players in the off season.
The road will be long and the way will be hard.
Mention must be made of the unfortunate retirement of Liam Fulton, after 161 games for Balmain in an injury-wracked career at the age of 29.
The consumate workhorse, a fearsome tackler, explosive out of the ruck over ten metres, try scorer in tight situaions...forced to give the game away through general wear and tear, with the career ended by no less than four bad head knocks this season that attracted the concussion rule.
The doctors told him he would be a fool if he went on, "you don't need no more brain damage, son" and he thankfully took their advice.
Fulton is one of the last links to the Miracle Year '05, there are only two others now who continue to play for Balmain who appeared in that year's Grand Final - Farah and Richards.
Liam knew fairly early on in his career that he would never rise to the status of outright Champion, but was happy to settle for being a well-respected long-serving Clubman who's among the first picked week in week out for years on end when he was fit.
Quite content to put his snout up someone else's arse in the scrum for the right money, however modest that may be, as long as it's enough.
Turned out to be a scholar and a gentelman who never put a foot wrong.
And an ornament to the game.

MANLY-WARRINGAH SEA EAGLES 40. Tries: Hiku (2), Foran (2), Gutherson, Stewart, Cherry-Evans. Goals: Lyon (6).
WESTS TIGERS 8. Tries: Lulia, Nofoaluma.
At Brookvale Oval.
Crowd: 13,432.

Best Champo of the season by far.
It's not that often that anyone kicks ten goals in the third quarter while keeping the opposition to a single solitary behind.
My Spy at the Ground, who's a master of understatment, wired in at the last break "it only needed one good quarter to put that rabble away"
The had the Double Blues at their mercy at half time, and absolutely anihalated them by three quarter time.
This week, Buddy appeared as the Beardless Wonder - it was only a matter of time 'til he kicked a bagful - just needed to lose Sampson's hair.
His set shot kicking - witness the one he curled back in off the left boot from 70 metres out - has improved outta sight, and Nick Davis Comes to Save Us has had a lot to do with...at training he'd say "now here's a hundred balls Buddy, here's the 50m arc, and those things over there are the big sticks".
Practice makes perfect.
Lance it seems is conforming with the Sydney way of things, the "club culture", ethos or whatever it is - it's highly disciplined...with the aim being to get just get on with the job and keep out of the papers.
And of course in the acres of football newsprint that is printed in Melboune, South Melbourne only ever get grudging respect at best when they are doing well and are about to snap the necks off the all the Melbourne teams.
You'd think that that'd be worth a mention.
But no.
The headline will always be "Carlton fought bravely before gallant defeat".
My arse.
Word on the street has it that the smart money are talking up the prospect - just as they did last year, only to be goosed - of JP Kennedy winning the Brownlow.
And why not?
Did he not just beat the club record for most consecutive games with 25+ possessions since records were kept, and just keeps going?
That'd be eyecatching.
Consistently up there in the "best" line in the weekly scorebox in the fishwraps, and blind Freddy can see that Josh can play.
Still, who knows what the umpires see?
They are in another world.
Who on earth thought up the concept of giving the vote to the umps for Best on Ground?
The Miracle of Democracy at its perverse best, and don't the bookies and the punters know it.
Coach Horse is worried.
He thinks the words "cocky" and "complacency" have crept into his vocabulary, and that's not good, but he must be comforted by the fact that he knows how to get a team to the Grand Final and win it, with the help of the Secretary's Office, the Football Dept, and Sick Bay.
Been there, done that.
No shortage of silverware.
Not counting any chickens or anything.

SYDNEY: 2.4, 6.6, 16.10, 18.14 (122). Goals: Franklin 6, Reid 4, Parker 2, Goodes 2, Rohan, Malceski, Lloyd, McVeigh.
CARLTON: 1.2, 5.5, 5.6, 7.9 (51). Goals: Henderson 2, McLean, White, Bell, Johnson, Everitt.
At Sydney Cricket Ground
Crowd: 34,965.

two telly's and a couple of nil-all draws

Bleacherites,

It was a "most unusal day" in Perth.
As one commentator said "it's not often that you get up here on a very wet morning and its still pissing down with rain in the afternoon".
Loved the television close up pictures of the hardy die-hards on the bleachers in their heavy-duty plastic poncho's with puffy shower cap hoods that they haven't had call to use in years, all shrugging off the miserableness and trying to look 'brave', not many smiling until the camera landed on someone laughing his head off - that spectator must have been the one a sandwich short of a picnic.
Despite the appalling weather, Swans should have been goals in front throughout, but only the torrential rain balanced the two sides.
Buddy v Mackenzie was an absolute corker; at one point they were flat out on the ground wrestling Greco-Roman style like two pigs rooting in mud.
What a sight.
But at the end of the day, you'd reckon both blokes would call it a nill-all draw under the conditions, even though Mackenzie probably thinks he won the battle.
Mike Pyke v Dean Cox was undoubtedly the match up of the day.
The Mad Canadian with arms like snakes up against the Eagles all-time club record holder with 280+ games under his belt - all played exclusively as a ruckman - best in the business at the age of 32.
The upstart North American did well to match him, and would settle for the nil-all draw.
Did note that the Parker Kiddie picked up some kind of ridiculously large tubular trophy for being Best on Ground [why a trophy? was it the Up Yours Eagles Medal? The two sides do have history after all].
But there was general consensus in the household that Benny "In Like" McGlynn should have got the gong - he played superb rugged wet weather football, no quarter asked for, no prisoners taken, and booted a couple of big ones while he was at it, priceless in a predictably low scoring game.
Teddy Richards, gawd bless him, and Full As An Esky built the brick wall across the backline, and West Coast were fooling themselves if they thought they could get through that.
On a day like that, just dig the trenches.
JP Kennedy had a stirling game, better than the other Josh Kennedy on the ground, who could only boast smashing the poor kid Jones with a full on hip'n'shoulder to the head that saw Zac go off and fail the concussion test.
Welcome to the big league son.
The Tribunal took a dim view of it and rubbed out Kennedy of Perth for a week, which is fair enough under the current rules.
How much newsprint has Craig Bird generated in the Sydney papers given that he's been one of the Swans' best players all year?
None, zilch, as the Little Birdie continues to fly under the radar with his unobtrusive style that gets right under the skin of his opponents.
Where the Brownlow votes went is anyone's guess, given the Bamfords would have probably seen precious little as their contact lenses fogged up in the driving rain.
The Stats Guru pointed out that The Great Goodes Train with 341 games broke the all-time record for number of games played in top grade by yr indigenous fella, overtaking The Great Andrew McLeod of Adelaide.
The powers that be in the Colonies could only see their way clear to name a dining room after McLeod in the new southern stand at Adelaide Oval.
The SCG Trust can do much better than that, surely?
They'll at least have to have a life-size bronze scuplture of The Train installed at the SCG.
There's no shortage of precedent.
Just ask Basil Sellars for the cash, he'll stump up.
The Strayan of The Year?
No better candidate for the 11th bronze at the ground, simply given his exploits on the hallowed turf over the years, if nothing else.

WEST COAST: 2.2, 4.5, 6.7, 7.9 (51). Goals: J.Kennedy 2, Priddis, Shuey, Darling, Cripps, Lycett.
SYDNEY: 3.4, 5.12, 7.14, 10.19 (79). Goals: Goodes 3, Parker 2, McGlynn 2, Rampe, Reid, Franklin.
At Subiaco Oval.
Crowd: 25,076

Have found myself wondering from time to time why there aren't two telly's in the house.
Everyone has got more than one, right?
It's rather difficult to watch two games of football being played simultaneously on a single crystal bucket.
The upshot being, didn't see a lot of this game, apart from at half-time in the rules match and during the ad breaks, but didn't miss much by all accounts.
My Spy at the Ground was despondent over the number of unforced errors and the shocking penalty count accumulated through plain ill-discipline.
Went on about "can't blame the Bamford's this time, they only have themselves to blame" or something or another.
For the third Origin week in a row it was a case of No Farah, No Cigar - which is really getting like an annoying broken record - but at least that's over now.
And without A.Woods also, there's no punch in the forwards, who find themsleves directionless without their skipper, and so there's next to no effective go foward from the pack.
What hope do the backs have on the back of that?
Penrith are in-form, mind you, and go top after playing at Leichhardt, having benfited mightily from their dream season draw - soft as - and the Origin byes falling the right way for them.
The Loyal Faithful who turned out on cue in their droves at the Spiritual Home were sent packing, yet again, disappointed.
The Tigers could be anywhere, given 6th to 11th on the ladder all have the same number of wins [with the byes a complicating factor], but sink to 10th on a negative for and against.
They're in a big log jam with no way out unless they can they string a few wins together as they approach the pointy end, which still aint beyond the realm of possibilities, but gee, they're a worry.
Balmain more than likely to be eaten like kippers for breakfast come September, if they get that far.
On interview after the game, Coach Potter reckoned the gearbox may be the problem, especially when he hasn't got the full drive train in working order.
"We made far too many errors and just couldn't get out of second gear".
Harry at his taciturn best, but in truth, the whole season must be driving him right out of his brain.
It is mine.
Joisis, they're a hard team to follow.

WESTS TIGERS 10. Tries: Austin, Brooks. Goals: Richards (1).
PENRITH PANTHERS 26. Tries: Whare (2), Idris, Moylan, Naiqama. Goals: Soward (3).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 16,698.

rapprochement will never happen

Bandwagoners,

It wasn't exactly the "violent murderous revenge" that had been tipped, nay promised, in some quarters.
In fact, when you are as well placed as the Swans are, there's no need to excert yourself; all you have to do is enough to win.
The scoreboard doesn't differentiate between one point and 100 point winners.
Pleasing to see K.Jack win the B.Kirk Medal for Best on Ground.
He also got some sort of Cup with white ribbons on it, which you can only presume is the perpetual trophy for the absurdly named "Battle of The Bridge"?
Picked up all the silverware he could lay his hands on, and if you're the skipper, wouldn't you?
JP Kennedy had a fine game for mine; he's developing into one of those players who largely goes sight unseen, but just digs in week in week out and goes strong right to the finish, with little or no fanfare about it.
He could walk down the middle of George Street, and no one would have any idea who he was.
Kiddies wouldn't exactly be rushing up to him asking for autographs.
Swans players can freely go about their day to day business in Sydney without being harrassed by the general public, except for the Buddy & Tipsy Show of course, which is hard to ignore on and off the field.
Seven goals between them will do, this week.
Without doubt the match up of the day was in the ruck...really enjoyed The Mad Canadian v Bad Mummy.
Obviously a few scores to settle there, with Pyke having literally forced Mumford out of the side, telling him to Go West.
Don't think they like each other very much.
It shows.
Both blokes would probably say that they won, but an impassionate judge would most likely call it a draw.
Good to watch, though.
So, that's ten on the trot, for the first time in living memory...you'd have to be into your 90's to clearly remember going to those games as a young lad the last time it happened
With only four more home games remaining, all against easily beatable sides, the Minor Premiership is there [caveat: that's if it doesn't all go to shit and the world turns upside down in the interim] for the taking if they want, which SC Horse may not.
In the Premiership Year of 2012, seem to recall there was a fair bit of jigging about and hanky panky in the pointy end of the season, not to mention outright match rigging; just make sure you do just enough to lose.
Depending on how the cards fall, it could well be more advantageous to try to finish second on the laddder - nothing wrong with resting key players in the denoument, and not sure that the authorities have ever successfully booked anyone for tanking or sandbagging.
Longmire is a clever man - he's not one for throwing the dice - his huge football brain would be down in the Football Office as we speak, fixing the beads on the abacus with a his beady eye as they whirr about back and forth.
The gin-soaked plans from yesteryear would be kept firmly under lock and key in the Back Office, available to the inner circle only for consultation with white gloves on, while the Super Coach would be working on crafty schemes of his own.
You know it makes sense.

SYDNEY: 4.4, 8.9, 12.11, 15.16 (106). Goals: Franklin 5, Tippett 2, Kennedy 2, Jack, McGlynn, Jones, Reid, Jetta, Bird.
GREATER WESTERN SYDNEY: 1.4, 1.7, 4.10, 8.12 (60). Goals: Bugg 2, Cameron 2, Whitfield, Ward, Smith, Hoskin-Elliott.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 27,778.

The short wave radio set in Dad's Shed struggled to pick up the signal from Campbelltown Sports Ground due to the dire weather.
The hardy folk who exposed themselves to the bitter wind chill coming off the Cumberland Plains would've grudgingly sympathised with the handful of opposition die-hards who had made the supreme effort to travel from the national capital to also turn up.
Maybe the Raiders supporters were trying to get away to more balmy weather?
As the radio commentor said "if you think it's cold out here at Campbelltown with a westerly gale in, I've just checked the Bureau website and the apparent temperature in Canberra right now is -7.8 degrees".
Lucky they weren't playing in the ACT...hypothermia territory right there.
The Mighty Tiges were very gritty under difficult and trying conditions, especially after losing a marquee player inside a minute who probably didn't warm himself up properly in the cold.
Who knows?
Tedesco finds himself gorn for all money with busted a knee cap within the first 15 seconds of the game and will need a season-ending scalpel to the scapula.
Deary me.
The bloke is the Tipsy of the NRL for mine - very flaky - his list of career injuries are as long as a broken arm.
And just to think, after signing a lucrative deal with Canberra [of all teams] he reneged on the contracutal arrangements on second thoughts to stay with Balmain on the grounds of something to do with "loyalty" while dropping half a mill in the process, when the Tigers Football Dept more than likely would have been glad to see the back of the enormously talented, yet prone to crippledom kiddie and free up some salary cap into the future??
Don't know who wins there.
Solid slog for the pack won them the game, but the Anasta field goal inside the last nine minutes appeared to be the clincher with the game having decended into defensive trench warfare.
Ah ha! Don't speak too soon.
Balmain were very nearly robbed blind by the Bamfords with a dubious - at best - penalty for holding an attacking player without the ball with about three minutes remaining.
My Spy at the Ground reckoned the home crowd was rather upset by it all, they were dead-set furious until Croker of Canberra contrived to turn the mood of the crowd into pure joy, by missing the penalty goal by a whisker as it faded away on the howling breeze, knowing that that would have put the Raiders in front by a point, and surely the winners.
A classic case of snatching defeat from the jaws of a god-given victory
There was no shortage of niggle the game, and a few all in-stinks, which is always good to see.
There's no doubt these two teams hate each other, always have, always will...rapprochement will never happen...not while some people have long memories, me included, given that this year being the 25th anniversary of the excruciating pain of the ill-fated 1989 Grand Final.
Enough said.
Somehow, no idea how, the Tigers now find themselves in sixth place on a log-jammed ladder with a game in hand, but are still firmly anchored in the bottom half of the top eight, going nowhere, as they have been for most of the season.
The pessimist would say, on recent showings, they'll be eaten like kippers for breakfast come September, but as every knows, finals time is a different kettle of fish altogether.
Coach Potter must be saying to The Board "what more can I do?"

WESTS TIGERS 19. Tries: Nofoaluma (2), Richards. Goals: Richards (3), Field Goals: Anasta (1).
CANBERRA RAIDERS 18. Tries: Lee (2), Croker. Goals: Croker (3).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 9,243.

blame the Winter Solstice

Nervous Types,

Well, what's there to say about this forgettable lack-lustre affair?
Not much really.
By now, SC Horse would have scratched it into the side of Coach's Ledger in the Football Office marked "we'll take our wins", and promptly banished it from his mind - no lessons to be learnt here.
What should've been for the Swans a leisurely Friday evening stroll, walking the dog in the park, turned out to be anything but.
Most likely the worst first half Sydney have played all year; through no want of trying, they just couldn't hold onto the ball, constantly just out of reach, going this way and that, the pill dancing elusively off the fingertips, repeatedly coughing up possession.
Couldn't get a goal to save themselves, and it was only brutal, ugly defence that kept the hapless Tigers to a single goal in the second half that delivered salvation.
They would have been slaughtered by a better team.
And then for the second week running, with things finely in the balance, and the cannister of heart pills at hand, Lance Franklin kicked the two match winning goals and took the get out of jail free card.
He's earning his keep, whatever his keep might be.
Seems like Buddy is now getting set-shot coaching from none other than Nick "Come to Save Us" Davis, who knows a thing or two about booting big ones under pressure - goes out to lunch on the stories.
Longmire was clearly unimpressed with the hand-to-hand combat in a low-scoring affair, and if his quarter time spray at the on-field huddle was anything to go by he would have been absolutely spewing at the long break, while steam would have been coming out of his ears at the final hooter.
Still, it's not at all that surprising that after sweeping all before them, Sydney now find themselves with the double purple patch clearly in view, in an on-field struggle even against lowly teams they should beat in a canter.
Blame it on the Winter Solstice.
Richmond unlucky in the denoument, for mine.
The Stats Guru was quick to point out that the "violent murderous revenge" to be inflicted on GWS this weekend will be the the first time in 79 years that South Melbourne/Sydney have won ten on the trot.
That's a very long time.
But they better watch out, with the Pygmies having just won back to back matches for the first time in their short history.
Sydney should be fully aware that after the debacle of round one - which will in the fullness of time no doubt come back to bite them on the ladder before season's end - the Pygs aint no easy beats no more.
After all those wins in a row the Swans are, on the balance of probabilities, "due for a loss", and as even the most ardent supporter knows with the diff a bit iffy, the wheels can fall off at any moment without warning.
From now on, it mostly has to do with messing with people's heads, and the "psych war" will only get more intense as the season edges closer to the pointy end.

RICHMOND: 4.2, 6.4, 7.6, 7.9 (51). Goals: Riewoldt 2, Miles 2, Edwards, Hampson, Deledio.
SYDNEY: 1.2, 4.2, 7.5, 9.8 (62). Goals: Franklin 4, K. Jack 2, Reid 2, McVeigh.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 34,633.

Pleasing to see the two Balmain boys acquit themselves well for NSW in State-of-Origin II.
An old fashioned game of football that took us way back.
As the GLW commented after the Traditional Softening Up Period [aka the first 20 mins], "these blokes aren't just playing the game, they are fully fighting".
That's it - state on state, mate on mate, date on date - in effect, a state-sanctioned bashing.
If it happened anywhere but on the field, they'd all be up on serious assault charges.
That's what the people come to see.
Laughed me head off as A.Woods went absolutely apeshit at the final siren, running around like a chook with its head cut off trying to mount anything that moved, with that utterly delightful idiot grin he has on his face going right off as NSW won a three-game series against QLD for the first time in a million years.
The eyes were spinning.
Haven't seen unbridled joy like that in a while.
The bye didn't fall the right way for Balmain - again - but hey that's life, and it's still two points in the dilly bag and you don't even have to turn up to play.

WESTS TIGERS: 2nd mid-season bye.

order an ambo

Bandwagoners,

Another one that had that air of inevitability about it, given that there was little or no hope against the South Sydney steamroller - no finesse, not much skill there - just roll over the top of them with huge, ugly units, and the relentless pressure will get them in the end.
Wouldn't want to meet any of the Burgess Bros in a dark alley at night, let alone share a cell with them at Long Bay.
No Farah, no cigar, is sounding like a broken record, and the The Try Scoring Freak just couldn't put his hands on the ball, always spilling it out of the end of the fingertips.
Thinking Adam Blair - the club's worst buy ever - played his worst game ever [and he's had his fair share of shockers].
Gave away nigh on all the Balmain penalties in the first half that led directly to points on the board for the opposition just through his own stupdity.
Late in the second half, Blair contrived to find himself entirely out of position on the wrong side of the scrum, and copped an almighty serve from the young half back, Luke Brooks.
The 19-year-old told his team mate, the grizzled veteran Blair, in no uncertain terms, that he was a "complete and utter idiot" - the words could have even been more profane than that - the kiddie didn't care about such nonsense as seniority and history.
Reputation has no place on the field of battle.
On interview after the game, Blair tried hard to hang his head in shame, and was asked where to now? to which he replied "I reckon I'll be touched up by the coach on Monday and Tuesday".
At least he's knows what's comin'.
At the finish the television commentators reminded South Sydney supporters that they have two byes in the next four rounds.
The Good Lady Wife commented "oh dear, that'll mean the crime rate will go up".
Coach Potter made no bones about it in the press scrum after full-time: "I thought the score was a reflection of how the game went. No disrespect to our team, we tried as hard as we possibly could but you can’t hand over possession like we did.”
No disrespect?
What is he saying?
We'll find out in due course.
Somehow, no idea how, the Tigers manage to cling onto 8th spot on the ladder.
With that in mind, slipped into the Front Bar at The Local on Monday morning in the hope of getting some insight, but instead found The Philosopher in his usual corner crunching on a split half cucumber that the barmaid had thoughtfully poked into his Bloody Mary, but all he could offer as he took the last bite out of his salad and had a good draft of his health juice was "well, as a Balmain boy, you'd know all about the utmost importance of remaining optimistic".

SOUTH SYDNEY RABBITOHS 32. Tries: Johnston (2), Turner (2), Merritt. Goals: Reynolds (6).
WESTS TIGERS 10. Tries: Austin, Tedesco. Goals: Richards (1)
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 20,721.


Found myself perched on the bottom deck of the first tier of the Doug Walters Stand (it will be hundred years before people like me call it the Victor Trumper Stand), overlooking the south west corner of the ground at the Randwick End, on Saturday avo, with the Country Member, his young lad, and a shady character only known as Mad Mac.
We knew that there would be a fair mob in when we saw the event bus queue at Central snaking around into Eddy Ave.
There was a huge crowd of red and white milling around outside the gates waiting to go in, when a group of four very large blokes cut a swathe through it as if they were parting the Red Sea.
They had Port guernsey's on, draped in very heavy trench coats and tall Cossack-like black hats, and one of them wore a conspicuous leather jacket with a coat of arms elaborately embroidered on the back, that was topped with the words: SERBIAN CHETNIKS.
Thought to myself "ooh, they're not the sort of Port fans you'd want to mess with".
All class.
There are not many games on at the proper time on Saturday arvo nowadays, when back in the day all the games used to be played at the same time on Saturday, and then, along came television, so couldn't pass up the opportunity to have a look see at 1st v 3rd first hand.
The first quarter was a behind-a-thon ...count e'em...couldn't kick a goal to save themselves, then they inexplicably let Port right back into the game in the second, so, as usual, it all came down to The Champo, but then it didn't, even though Sydney kicked 5 mighty handy goals to three, the question was far from settled.
Never got the the chance to put on my Mexican death mask to scare the shit out of the nearest opposition spectator - that only gets donned when you get to the point in the game where your team has won it, beyond doubt, and the Fat Lady starts singing.
Never happened.
Blind Freddy could see the Swans were in a struggle to the death against a quality side.
Port doesn't boast much in the way of heavy artillery, but they more than equalised the Swans ruck, and they rely on being very fleet of foot and being the fittest team in the comp.
As the Swans started to flag at the start of the final stanza, and were out on their fet well before the finish, Port just carried on is if nothing had happened.
That's probably why they've won so many games this year.
With 20 or so minutes left, found myself reaching for the heart pills that someone had thoughtfully tipped into my pocket before leaving for the ground.
With 10 minutes to go, the cliff hanger unresolved and the finger nails down to the quick, someone asked if they should order an ambo for me.
Hell no!
Obviously what was needed was a drink in a crisis and the cry went up "Nurse! Brandy!" and the hip flask was duly passed around.
Never quite been among or seen or heard a crowd at the SCG go so absolutely ape shit in the denoument, as Lance Franklin kicked the two match winning goals in the last five minutes
Everyone just lost their shit and were on their feet in the standing ovation to end all standing ovations as the final siren sounded.
Got away with it by four points.
Never mind the quivering mass of nerve endings.
As we were leaving the ground, the Country Member's lad pointed out the extraordinary sight of the mass of humanity that was shuffling along Driver Avenue towards Paddington and Darlinghurst - an ocean of red & white.
Never seen anything like it since one day at the 2000 Olympics.
Little doubt the ground was less than seven thousand short of capacity, a full house for all intents and purposes, jammed in like we were in the tiny thin seats with yr knees more or less jammed up against the row in front of you, nothing luxurious about it, and cannot imagine sitting in a seat like that for a whole day at the cricket!
Laid my eyes on the fully completed new MA Noble & Bradman Stands for the first time, which the Trust has spent a squillion on, for the exclusive use of Members.
You'd be much better off in there by the looks, and why not?
The rich and entitled can afford it, it seems.
On the event bus back to Central after the game, there was some animated discussion among the folk on board on who might be Best on Ground, so a straw poll was taken that awarded the Brownlow votes, if the Bamfords had any sense, thus: 3 votes Franklin. 2 votes K.Jack, 1 vote Ebert.
Was thinking on reflection that the Swans have been relatively lucky with injuries; the Sydney Football Dept has a happy knack of keeping their roster largely out of Sick Bay with proper training and preventative treatment, so news that filtered through on the Monday morning that the Hannbery Kiddie would be rubbed out for about a month with an ankle mischief came as a blow; a big loss to a firing mid-field.
The Stats Guru had no need to point out that that's eight on the trot, and they only have to get past Richmond (a) and GWS (h) in the next couple of weeks to complete the double purple patch, and then they've got a dream draw in the run home.
Coach Horse, as he sucked on his out-sized Cuban gazing out to sea during Sunday morning smoko down by the magic waters, would have been thinking that you never look a gift horse in the mouth, while scratching what's left of the hair on his head thinking of ways to keep the team focused with their eyes on the prize.

SYDNEY: 2.8, 6.12, 11.13, 14.14 (98). Goals: Franklin 5, Goodes 3, McVeigh 2, K.Jack, Jetta, Kennedy, Hannebery.
PORT ADELAIDE: 1.2, 6.5, 9.10, 13.16 (94). Goals: Schulz 4, Monfries 3, White 2, Wingard 2, Ebert, Westhoff.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 41,317.