refrigerators and bulldozers

Trick cyclists,

The burning question on everyone’s lips: Has BBB “Slugger” Hall been having jujitsu lessons on his holidays or was it just part of his anger treatment? [thankfully, he’s not consulting the same anger manager as Belinda Neal and Sam Newman – patently hasn’t worked in either case there].
Instead of going around clocking blokes, he’s worked out all you have to do is throw your not inconsiderable weight around and just flip blokes out of the way.
How many times did direct opponents just bounce off the great man as if affected by some weird magnetic field when they came into the big bloke’s sphere of influence?
As is usually the case, the question of victory came down to the Championship Quarter.
Things looked a little ominous when the Gardiner kiddies snapped a couple of quick ones for the Saints at the start of the stanza, but three Swans goals in as many minutes towards the end of the section, and it was effectively game over.
Never in doubt.
Jarred “Odd Head” McVeigh was probably best on ground, played doggedly, and just kept unexpectedly bobbing up in all the right places, while Marty Mattner – having played 100 games for Adelaide without anyone noticing – is something out of the Book of Revelations.
The Goodes Train was once again a marked man, given that many thought he shouldn’t have been playing, but for mine it was surprising that he didn’t go down to the tribunal mid-week to try and get off the official reprimand to protect his honorable reputation, given that a reprimand is apparently enough to rule you out of contention for the Brownlow.
Any team will struggle to get through the Swans defence for the rest of the season the way it is going, and the return of Hall added some much needed structure to the forward line.
Magic certainly thought so; he was happy to let Hall do all the leading from centre half forward, so he could be more relaxed and comfortable just pirouetting around in the forward pocket as he’s paid to do.
Not at all sure about the reported appearance of six chanting Gyuota Buddhist monks dressed in saffron and Swans scarves in the sheds after the game.
Craig Bolton was certainly startled:
"I was buggered and then it went completely quiet and all of a sudden I heard this chanting. I just got straight up”
"Footy has come a long way - 20 years ago we would have been cracking open cans of beer, now we are listening to Buddhist chants."
Crikey!
Next thing they will all be levitating, or some such nonsense.
After the Crows narrow loss at home, and given that the top three is now, in the absence of some serious falling off of wheels, set in concrete, all the Swans need to do is keep winning at home, and snatch a few away wins to take the only vacant slot in the top four at the pointy end of the season.
With SC Roos [hearty congrats by the way on his 500th as a player then coach] issuing stern warnings about complacency, giving Melbourne a right spanking on the wide open spaces at Manuka Oval this coming weekend is a good place to start, and besides, six wins on the trot in a 22 game season officially qualifies as a “purple patch”.


SYDNEY 3.5, 7.9, 12.16 14.18 (102) Goals: O'Keefe 3, O'Loughlin 3, Hall 2, Goodes 2, McVeigh, Moore, Bird, Jolly
ST KILDA 2.2, 3.7, 8.9, 9.13 (67) Goals: C.Gardiner 3, Riewoldt, Dal Santo, M.Gardiner, Goddard, Schneider, Milne.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 25,996.





Had a bad feeling in my water from the moment when the only recognized Tiges front row forward left standing in the entire club, Danny Galea, fell over about three minutes into the match, with not a hand laid on him, and contrived to snap an Achilles.
Season gorn, just like that.
For a bloke who has battled all year to find a permanent place in the run-on side, it was a pitiful sight to see him just after half time, having changed into a jacket and tie, hobble on crutches to a seat in the stands.
A couple of pre-game injuries didn’t help either, as SC Sheens was forced to name two blokes on the bench who hadn’t played any first grade rugby league since 2006; fair average quality journeymen at best you would have thought.
SC Sheens in his after match remarks suggested that assistant coach Roycie Simmons might have to come out of 17 years in retirement and don the orange and black next week to harden things up.
Can’t we buy any players, anyone, before the end of the financial year?
The Galea injury cracked the Tiges mentally; never seen so much dropped ball, so many knock ons, kicks that failed to find touch, and the unforgivable sin of passing the ball clean into touch, from any side in a single game all season.
That, and the fact that Parramatta had some dead set refrigerators and bulldozers going around in the forwards, and even the kiddie who plays for them in the outside centres looks like a 6’4” five-ton front end loader.
Benji was missing in attack but tried hard to put on a kicking game, but it’s tough when you are getting no field position at all, and the try scoring freak Lawrence did score the only try, but honestly, can’t think of any other time his name was even mentioned in the television commentary.
For once, Mad Gus Gould got it right when he said: “the Tigers will just have to lay low for the next month and try to survive, before trying to play themselves into September”.
SC Sheens came down from the box in the first half to coach from the sidelines in the second – but unlike the animated AFL coaches -- he didn’t need headphones or a telephone, as he didn’t have much to say -- to anyone.
What else was to be done?


WESTS TIGERS 6. Tries: Lawrence. Goals: Hodgson (1).
PARRAMATTA EELS 44. Tries: Hindmarsh (2), Burt, Cordoba, Tautai, Keating, Inu, Reddy. Goals: Burt (6).
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 22,106.

Footnote: By the look of the state of the stands on the telly, be buggered if 22 thousand punters turned up on a damp, bitterly cold afternoon in Sydney for the televised Sunday game.
A little creative gate keeping going on once again to justify using the Olympic Stadium as a home ground, given the club is guaranteed a very generous net return regardless of how many show up?

a light turkey slap

True believers,

What a bloody miracle in The Golden West!
Any team that went down by six goals to zip in the first quarter of what was always going to be a low scoring affair on the wide open spaces at Subiaco Oval, should never have been allowed to get up and snatch the win.
One of the great Lazarus acts, yet again.
Forced to reach for the heart pills when the scores were all locked up with a few minutes left; could not bear another “bloody point” result between these two sides, the history just wouldn’t allow it.
It doesn’t matter who it was who so comprehensively necked our bloke from 30 metres out that the Bamford could not help but blow the whistle with, what, a minute left in the game to produce the match-winning goal.
Didn’t hear his name on account of the screaming of the couple of fanatics on the lounge was too loud.
Haven’t seen his name anywhere in the best players lists, but Young Teddy Richards was about the only one who did anything in the backs in the first half, and then St Paul has the inspiration to move him into the forward line in the second half to get on with business and finish things off.
Had an outstanding game for mine.
That said, Malceski, who played as usual on one leg and one lung, was probably best on ground.
An unusually fast Goodes Train did well to get himself train wrecked by being reported early on in the piece.
He was a marked man after that.
He’s sure to take it down to the tribunal to keep his reputation intact -- joisus, you don’t win two Brownlow’s for nothing, and then some dumb ump called Mathew Head [two blokes, same name, see below] decides he ought to be reported for giving an idiot who was going down in a tackle, a light turkey slap.
Ridiculous.
Only goes to show the Bamford’s have no connection with the reality of the game, otherwise they wouldn’t be Bamfords.
Surely it will be laughed out of court.
Captain Kirk was being referred to on the Channel Ten coverage as The Spiritual Leader.
Crikey! There might be people who are out there who actually pray to some kind of deity when things get tight?!
Surely not?
Magic seemed like he was going around on one of those motorised scooters with an orange flag out the back.
And as for Jude Bolton...someone walked past the telly at the dénouement and just said “thanks jude, just thanks, for coming”.
Been trying to pin point why the West Coast Eagles are the most obnoxious team in the comp for years without success, until this week when Pim Verbeek put his finger on it for me when he was asked to comment on the on-field violence, the foul play, and the dead-set diving for the penalty that characterizes the Iraq national soccer team, and he very emphatically replied without hesitation, “it’s in their nature, its in their culture”, [his italics],
You have to like a man who speaks his mind.
And so it goes also with the West Coast Eagles… its in their culture.
As a result, they generate a kind of animosity in fans not seen in other opposing teams.
As the Good Lady Wife remarked on his first appearance on the television, “oh no! not that Adam Hunter! I just hate that Hunter! I can’t stand the sight of him. Get him off, pleeease!”
Summed it up nicely.
After drinking the bar dry on the red eye special on the way home, SC Roos and the “Leadership Team” would have had a fairly laid back Sunday morning smoko beside the magic waters of the Tasman Sea.
Gazing out on the vista; the only question of any import would have been whether to name BBB “Slugger” Hall in the reserves, or bring him straight back from his holidays with his shrink on the first grade bench.
In any case, SC Roos was caught by the television cameras whistling while shuffling the fist full of foolscaps just at the end of quarter time as he started to walk back to the dug out.
That’s relaxed and comfortable.
All class.
.
WEST COAST: 6.1, 8.7, 8.11, 11.12 (78). Goals: Wirrpanda, Kerr, Staker 2, Nicoski, Selwood, Hunter, Lynch, Seaby
SYDNEY: 0.4, 2.7, 6.8, 12.11 (83). Goals: Malceski, McVeigh, Kirk, Bevan, Bolton 2, O'Loughlin, Buchanan.
At Subiaco Oval, Perth.
Crowd 38,802.

Haven’t seen a frame of the Mighty Tiges game as it was played at the “third home ground” and coincided with the Swans game.
But the bush telegraph in the corner of the lounge room chattered into life and came through with the 22-0 half time scoreboard, and there was no doubting it was in the dilly bag, given that the Cowboys turned out without a couple of players on State of Origin duties and the club has a full casualty ward.
Tigers were very short odds on to win from the outset.
Seasoned observers suggest the forward pack again acquitted themselves well, despite the almost complete absence of recognized front row forwards.
Matty Head apparently played out of his mind, and was a clear man of the match.
The Head story is an interesting one, given that he has no contract, just the confidence of SC Sheens, and is costing the club absolutely nothing, as he’s playing on week to week wages.
They probably give him the cash in a brown paper bag in the sheds after the game.
Hoddo continues to lead well, and there should be no underestimating a well led rugby league team.
And by all reports, Benji had his best game of the year proving menacing as he ranged about off the wing into centre three quarter.
Seven tries can’t hurt the for and against difference, which may well come into play at the money end of the season given the complete log jam of teams in the top eight.
Sixth is not a bad place to be, just one win out of the top four.
Travelling nicely, no question.

WESTS TIGERS 40. Tries: Collis, McDonnell, Head, Te'o, Marshall, Heighington, Hodgson. Goals: Hodgson (6).
NORTH QUEENSLAND COWBOYS 16. Tries: Slyner, Harris, T Williams. Goals: J Williams (2).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 11,488.

notorious hottie riddled playground

Canine Fanciers

Heard the interview with MJC on departure from Kingsford Smith for the Caribbean:
”I’ve been on the phone to a few of the blokes over there, and Tim Nielsen, so I know what’s going on. I just can’t wait to get on my flight and get over there and play some cricket. It feels like I haven’t had a game in years”.
He didn’t sound too sad.
And then he turns up in Kingston, Jamaica a day late.
You would have thought he could have organised himself a bit better so he could have got on the handy to Punter from Miami airport and say “hey boss, just win the toss and send them in, will ya – I’ll be there in time to have a bat”.
Stayed awake for long enough, all the time tweaking the whisker on the crystal set for the best reception, to catch the first session on day two, when Clarke when from 35 into the 80’s, and then fell asleep secure in the knowledge that there wasn’t a more dead set certainty that a Clarke century in Antigua, with The Kat already having one in the dilly bag.
Seems like at long last Pup is beginning to discern the art of distilling your shot selection in accordance with the particular pitch you are playing on.
If you can’t do that you are dead in test cricket.
Murder the rubbish and the short stuff, while nudging ‘round the one and two’s.
If you find yourself batting on a six lane highway, straight driving would always be the go, yes?
No hooking or pulling, but with the occasional off cut and noodle down to third man and long on.
On interview afterwards he admitted to being very emotional and dedicating the ton to “Graham”
Probably the best test match ton that he’s ever scored by his own admission.
Did like this headline in the Bangkok Post:
“Clarke dedicates Windies ton to dead would be pa-in-law”
Never mind that he was superbly run out by Roy for next to nothing in the second innings, the job had already been done, and the match always looked like a draw anyway.
Interesting that the fiancé has turned up in Barbados, couldn’t be too sad either, to keep an eye on the kiddie in that notorious hottie riddled playground, and prevent any unsavory incidents a la Seth Efreaker last time around.
Suppose he will have to get used to having his style cramped off the field from now on.
Let’s just hope that it doesn’t extend to inside the picket fence.

a certain whiff

Boosterists,

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



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



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


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

on the retirement of TSC MacGill

Enthusiasts,

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

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

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

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


Vale The Great TSC MacGill.

LEICHHARDT OVAL IS MY CHURCH

Denizens of The Hill,

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

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

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

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

crazed Whirling Dervish on powerful drugs

Spectators,

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

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

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

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


Craven.