blow torch to the belly

Mystics,

Who'd try and tip the AFL, let alone even consider having a bet on it?
The exposed form is completely unfathomnable.
If you were a punter from outer space that came across the caper fresh, you'd be forgiven for thinking the entire schemozzle was massively rigged.
After SC Roos publicy admitted last week that no-one was listening to him, not least the young kiddies playing in the reserves, who reputedly had all sorts of excuses, it was pretty clear Horse Longmire had taken the senior players, the so-called "leadership group" by the scruff of the neck and told them in no uncertain terms that they should just get on with playing their own game and not fall into the awful "zone" theory nonsense that other teams put on them, and just force their opposite number to play mark-up, one-on-one football.
As a result, Hawthorn found themselves befuddled.
Goodes revels in that sort of game plan, and The Train really is, after all these years, unstoppable when he puts his mind to it.
Rhino Keefe came back to form, and Odd Head McVeigh had his first good game in a while.
And the young blokes did well too, Dennis-Lane showing he might be something with three goals, while The Hannebery Kiddie already is something, Reg Grundy proving valuable, and the Son of Gary Jack will no doubt get the "most improved junior player" at the end of season awards dinner.
Also pleasing to see young Jetta get his first goal after kicking 19 behinds straight since debut; that hopefully, as he says, "will get the monkey off me back", and it will kickstart his AFL career.
The lad has undeniable talent and would out-run anyone in the game over 30 metres, but remains very much a greenhorn.
Cap'n'Kirk, really, although he battles on bravely, is having a sad shuffle out to the spelling paddock for good; he should confine himself to chanting mantra's in the dressing room, and then going and joining the monks in the stands, rather than play the game, otherwise his middle name of "Never Played A Bad Game" could be called into question right at the very arse end of an illustious career.
Why do it to youself when you having nothing left to prove?
On the back of being seven goals up at the long break, the Swans found themslves whip-sawed to the tune of 6-3 goals in the Championship Quarter, and still won the game.
That had the Horse written all over it
Stick to the game plan, don't tear it up and don't start chucking it at people seems to be a perfectly reasonable way to go
10-9 is good enough three games from the finish, but Freo at Subi this weekend is another bottle of mussels altogether.
PS. At the risk of sounding like a broken record; yet another completely outrageous fiction from the Swans Marketing Dept in concocting the plain-silly crowd figure.

SYDNEY: 5.4, 10.10, 13.12, 19.15 (129). Goals: O'Keefe 4, Goodes 3, McGlynn 3, Dennis-Lane 3, Moore, McVeigh, Jack, Kennedy, Jetta, White.
HAWTHORN: 1.1, 3.5, 9.6, 13.7 (85). Goals: Franklin 4, Lewis 2, Roughead 2, Stratton, Ladson, Bateman, Moss, Burgoyne.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 29,431.

Well, it was only a matter of time before the Mighty Tiges were not given a get-out-of-jail card free.
And the most remarkable game of rugby league this season, by any measure, to boot.
At 28-12 deep into the second half, Balmain were home and hosed, with the slippers on and the port & pipe in hand, and yet still managed to hand the opposition two Premiership points on a silver platter.
Really, they did almost everything right on the night, but fell for the trap that they thought they found themselves on a leisurely walk in the park against a team that was missing no less than eleven regular first graders through suspension and injury, when in reality, they weren't, and then got the timing all wrong, missing several opportunities, some would says gifts at field goal in extra-time, all the while underestimating the Rabbitoh's will to win.
Retired for the night on Saturday humming to myself..."to lose the unloseable game" to the tune of "to dream the impossible dream".
The Best Leb In The Game, as usual, was running the show, the pack put in from beginning to end with the front row in particular doing in some excellent work all round, while Keefy "Bludnut" Galloway had a blinder off the second row.
Benji, as usual, was doing the jink, the step, the faint, the cut out pass and the other ballet moves, after coming to the game with his goal kicking boots well polished, for a change.
All the wingers Lote "Wot I'd Do, Guv?" Tuqiri and That Try Scoring Freak Lawrence scored tries, and lets face it, that's the only reason that they are on the paddock - points on the board - while Ayshford got himself over the line after he found himself playing on the wing by mistake.
What's not to like about any of that?
All of the above is mere hearsay, of course.
Didn't see a frame of the match as there was some potterring to do in Dad's Shed, so only caught the radio call and later reports on the bush telegraph from spies who were there.
Only saw some highlight reel vision of the quite eerie final try, scored as it was at the end of the second period of extra time at 90 minutes just as the AFL style hooter was hooting at the Western Paddock to bring the proceedings to a halt.
But there was a pass in it that appeared to have a hint of a forward pass about it, although to some seasoned observers at the ground close to the action, it was a mile forward, and yet the Bamford decided not to send the thing upstairs for adjudication.
What the?
Home side favouritism, probably.
People, days afterwards, are still stratching their heads saying "how on earth did South Sydney win that one?"
The Balmain coaching staff haven't got a clue, so what hope the ordinary punter?
Thought SC Sheens restrained himself admirably at the dénouement, while the Club Secretary, no doubt, in a back office somewhere, would have been leaping about like some kind of wild-eyed crazed ape at the prospect of the possibility of not getting the gate reciepts from a home final.
A golden opportunity for Balmain to go to outright second on the ladder and even challenge for the glorious JJ Giltinan Shield [now awarded to the minor premiers] gone begging, and now they find themselves bumped back to fifth on the table.
Barry Crocker.
And Penrith, Parramatta, Melbourne and Gold Coast to come will represent a keenly-felt blow torch to the belly viz a viz September prospects.

SOUTH SYDNEY RABBITOHS 34. Tries: Farrell (3), Wesser, Sutton, Talanoa. Goals: Sandow (5).
WESTS TIGERS 30. Tries: Farah, Galloway, Lawrence, Ayshford, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (5).
[After extra-fucking-time, full-time 30-30].
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 23,298.

on being toyed with

Fellow Appallees,

No mystery in any of this...
Woke on Sunday morning not feeling all that well also, after giving the drink a bit of a nudge at the ground and particularly after the game, with a burning desire to get the backyard incinerator going fiercly and setting fire to all my Swans memorabilia.
All the old tickets, programs, soveniers, about two dozen free hats collected over the years, and the guernsey that never did fit, with the scarf thrown in on the top for good measure.
Still don't know what stopped me.
Even the most disgruntled fan can take a loss, but to be rolled over like that and subjected to a brutal gigantic tusk up the runter without so much as putting up a fight is just plain unacceptable.
There was not even a hint of excitement or exuberance on the event bus to the ground.
Everyone knew what was going to happen, as all the passengers had that same bad feeling in their water.
The atmosphere in the ground was pretty drear from the off with the home fans already downcast, and the smattering of Geelong fans their usual dour selves - they are not prone to excitability, as only one thing matters to them, and that's winning the flag.
Lots of collective groaning from the assembled throng.
It was very obvious for everyone in the cheap seats to see, after about ten minutes of the first quarter, that we were looking at the 2010 Premiers in action.
Swans crunched with no mercy in the backs; forwards completely impotent against dogged defence and tall timber.
Systematically demolished in all aspects of the game.
Not a single winner on the park all night.
It's all very well and good that Sydney has got the Son of Gary, but Geelong of course, has the Son of God!
The Pontiff's Seed Is Strong.
Enough said.
He had a blinder.
Remarkable that we remained in our seats past the Championship quarter, just to witness the Swans being toyed with, and said so much in no uncertain terms in the barracking.
But, no one was listening.
In an unprecedented move, we decided to join the ever growing exodus out of the ground after ten minutes of the final quarter as the massacre by then was just too painful to witness any longer, with Geelong in front by a full 14 goals, yes you read right, 14 goals, forgetting the ridiculous number of Sydney behinds, by which time any interest in barracking was gone.
Simply no point.
It was all the more painful given that the Geelong players were under strict instructions from the coach at the last break to take their foot right off the accelerator pedal, relax, conserve energy, prevent any opportunity for injury, while they benched their star players, and still the Swans were on struggle street.
As the Good Lady Wife succinctly put it during three quarter time:
"It looks as if the Swans are a semi-decapitated mouse, with it's little legs still twitching about, while it's being pawed at by some hideously ugly cat, before being swallowed whole".
Not interested in ever seeing that sort of thing again.
Found ourselves on the very first event bus out of the joint, the "Miserable Express", while beating myself up by drafting in my head a well worded letter to the people in the Sydney ticket office, demanding my money back having had the misfortune of attending three pitiful losses in three games at Homebush this season.
Then wearily factored in the why bother factor, and gave up.
Simply no point.
Sydney people are very quick to shun losers; even the seriously inflated crowd figure was the second smallest at the Western Paddock since the Swans started playing there the year after the Olympics.
There was no one in.
Absolutely no pressure on the bars; in fact there were beer pourers standing around twidling their thumbs, who were more than happy to take the time to prepare you a couple of tumblers of cheeky Shiraz [just 60c more than the execrable ale], while they would have re-frozen plenty of left over steak-and-kidney pies for next year.
They were pulling down the shutters on the food outlets at half time.
SC Roos made his first sense in weeks defining the team's finals prospects on interview after the match as "we'll just be making up the numbers".
"the huge talent gap is insurmountable, at present" sums it up nicely.
While the ladder position might still look reasonable on paper, with no one really breathing down their necks, 9&9 nonethless points to a season through the S-bend with the run home to come, all confidence gorn, and the team playing like shot birds, and a Mad Monday on the 30th of August.
Now, if ever there was one, is the time for a session in the Room Full of Mirrors down on the Balmain Road.
Everyone involved could benefit from taking a good hard look at themselves.
Despite all that, doubt that St Paul would have spent much time on pulling his hair out at Sunday morning smoko down by the Magic Waters, leaving that up to The Horse, but there would have been plenty of that far away look as he gazed out to sea contemplating the fact that you are "a long time retired" in this caper.

SYDNEY: 3.7, 4.12, 5.16, 9.18 (72). Goals: Goodes 3, Bolton 2, Jack, Kennedy, White, Kirk
GEELONG: 5.1, 10.1, 18.3, 20.5 (125). Goals: Johnson 6, Ablett 3, Mooney 3, Ottens, Varcoe, Hunt, Kelly, Byrnes, West, Ling, Mackie.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 30,710.

Haven't seen a single frame of the Tiges match as it was played simultaneously as the Swans game.
You don't get any League score updates at The Rules.
Would have jumped at the chance to swap my Swans tickets for a seat at Leichhardt Oval on Saturday night, but sadly, it was perfectly clear that the Swans tickets were unloved and unwanted and effectively worthless.
Spies who were at the ground suggest it was yet another case of Balmain being handed a get out of jail card free, against a side with a caretaker coach who are running stone motherless last in the comp, this time courtesy of a benevolent Bamford!
You don't see that very often.
Those close to the action, as best as they could reckon, say a hapless Sharkie was denied a perfectly good try in the dying minutes that would have won them the game, after he was ruled to have infringed the "fair advancement of the ball at the try line" rule [a fancy new name for a "double-movement", apparently] when it was clear the bloke was not tackled, was not held, and had used the not-illegal advantage of momentum to plonk the ball on the chalk.
But all accounts, it was a further example of how real time action observed by the naked eye on the spot beats slo-mo replays every time, because as everyone knows, the television lies, and yet the decision comes down to a legally blind referee looking at a crystal bucket and it's taken out of the hands of the man who was there, but who wasn't quite 100% sure of what it was that he actually saw.
Who'd be an umpire?
Little wonder the Sharks were spitting chips and then spewing about being robbed blind, and told everyone within ear shot who wanted to know, but its a conundrum that will never be solved.
Not that the Leichhardt faithful cared one bit.
It's only a good excuse to have that extra schooner in the Orange Grove Hotel on the way home, while disecting the game in the post-mortem.
The only other highlight of the fixture in the bush telegraph reports was Benji being given a rollicking Bronx cheer when he finally kicked a goal.
The home crowd are on to him.
Thinking the win mathematically guarantees Balmain a berth in the top eight - could be wrong there - but there is certainly now a log jam for a top four spot, which is worth its weight in shiny shiny gold in the Hairy Clarke finals system employed by the NRL.
SC Sheens would have just scratched that one in the "we'll take our wins" column in the Coach's Ledger, and think nothing more of it, while the Club Secretary would be looking to give that old cash register in the back of the Revenue Office a good polish, as it's been unused for five years, on account of it only goes ching! ching! in September.

WESTS TIGERS 24. Tries: Fulton (2), Brown, Lawrence, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (2).
CRONULLA-SUTHERLAND SHARKS 22. Tries: Collis (2), Ferguson, Gardner. Goals: Porter (3).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 14,942.

a strange and mysterious 12-goal bath

Fellow aghastees,

There is a school of thought abroad that something very strange and mysterious was at work at the MCG on Sunday afternoon.
Whatever it was, by all reports, it certainly hushed the crowd into those split second moments of complete silence that you get for no reason at all in large sports crowds from time to time.
There simply can be no understanding of why Sydney were on the receiving end of the worst massacre seen at HQ in many a long year; the first time the Swans had been given a 12-goal bath in no less than eleven long seasons - you have to go back to 1999 to find something equivalent.
It was plain for all to see how it happened, but there was something quite odd about it, as if it had a lot more to it than just Melbourne playing exceptionally well and Sydney playing exceptionally badly.
It's likely to remain completely inexplicable.
There's no rational explanation for what went on.
Not least SC Roos, who was astonished and had absolutely no idea on interview after the game, and could only offer:
"(I felt) pretty helpless...it is a bit of a strange feeling, to be honest. It was an unusual feeling...quite strange."
Spooky.
Don't like spooky, it just un-nerves and unsettles everyone involved.
The senior players had no concept at all and were flabbergasted as to why they were entirely missing in action throughout and could have been lost on the Kokoda Track for all it mattered, while the junior players were at a total loss to ascertain why they were all at sea, apart from the fact that they were gobsmacked, never having seen or experienced anything like it before in all their born days.
The Mad Buddhist and Sydney's Spiritual leader, Cap'n "Never Played a Bad Game" Kirk would have conjoured up the deity to show him a sign, and would have been disappointed when none was forthcoming.
At Monday morning smoko down at the magic waters of Bronte, the coaching staff would have had the peyote pipes out in a bid to have some kind of divine apparition appear before them who could tell them what went wrong.
Nothing doing there.
SC Roos admitted that he found himself with nothing at all to say to the players at full time, not because he was angry or upset by the performance, it was just that he had nothing to add to what people might already be thinking, and didn't want to alarm anyone by drawing their attention to the intrinsic weirdness of it all.
Not even sending the entire team for a session in The Room Full Of Mirrors down on the Balmain Road would come close to working it out.
No point.
The players have been told to stop thinking about it and black the thing from their individual and collective memories, as if it never happened, and while the event will no doubt come back to dog SC Roos on the last Mad Monday of his career at the end of the season and probably haunt him for the rest of his life, the fact of the matter is the scoreboard doesn't lie.
All the mumbo jumbo aside, the loss, while it is absolutely impossible to read anything into it, did an enormous amount of damage on the premiership table.
Dropping down to eigth at 9&8 and losing a huge chunk of percentage, when a win would have all but guaranteed a berth in the finals...just like that.
Now they find themsleves in very real danger of missing out on September altogther, with the difficult run home they are up against.
On first reflection, contemplated getting down to the box office this week and asking for, nay demanding, a refund on my tickets to the cheap seats for this Saturday night's Geelong game at the Western Paddock on the strength of that exhibition at The G, but then realised that the ticket clerk would only tell me that they are worthless.
So, thought better of it, what with forces at work that can't be comprehended by mere mortals; it'd be no surprise if the Swans came out and gave the Cats a right caning, against all odds.
Stranger things have happened.

MELBOURNE: 8.2, 12.4, 20.8, 22.10 (142). Goals: Green 5, Dunn 3, Jones 2, Morton 2, Jurrah 2, Jamar 2, Bruce, Scully, Wonaeamirri, Johnson, Davey, Watts.
SYDNEY: 2.1, 4.4, 6.6, 10.9 (69). Goals: Goodes 4, White 3, McVeigh, Richards, Pyke.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 29,374.

At least the Tigers loss to the Evil Silvertails [and let me tell you there's nothing worse in world sport than losing to Manly. Could go on, but won't] was straightforward enough and had some ryhmn and reason to it.
Nothing odd here.
The defensive unit was simply not on-song on the day, and eventually fell to bits in the fatigue of the dénouement, while the flashy backs were more interested in testing out some clever new set-plays in match conditions, instead of concentrating on the job in hand.
And they were outplayed to boot.
Things were not helped by Benji's mum forgetting to polish his goalkicking boots for the second week running.
Said it before, say it again, but for all his undoubted genius in general play, Marshall's goal kicking is just not up to first grade standard.
They've missed the window to buy a designated goal kicker, so the only other option is to give Farah a shot; he can kick alright - but something must be done about it before the finals.
Things were also not helped by the Best Leb In The game being found out playing funny buggers as he constantly appealed to the Bamfords about the markers not being square in the play-the-ball, and when he finally got a penalty, was then promptly given a good whack in the brain box from that complete fool S.Mattai...a stink ensured in which no punches were ever landed...but Mattai still found himself in the sin bin after petulantly pushing Farah in the back when the Bamford had told him to shut his mouth and go away.
The jester even wanted to go on with it after being given his marching orders.
And yet, Manly still scored a soft try while Mattai was off the field for ten mintes and they were down to 12 men, and that was the end of the section, for all intents and purposes.
Pretty silly stuff all round, that would have attracted admonishment from even a Vaudeville crowd.
While the result did only superficial damage on the premiership table, as the Tigers remain in third spot at 11&7, it was the "what if" factor that really mattered.
SC Sheens would be more acutely aware than most that they lost a dead-set golden opportunity to move into outright second on the ladder with a win, as well as guarantee a locked-in appearance in the finals, given that SC Sheens promised, after extending his contract for a year on the back of a paper napkin in some cafe in Chiswick early on in the season, that he would quit forthwith if Balmain didn't make the top eight this season, for the first time since The Miracle of '05.
And nothing, nothing at all, gets any easier at this time of year.


MANLY-WARRINGAH SEA EAGLES 38. Tries: Lyon (2), Rodney, Foran, Stewart, Farrar. Goals: Lyon (7).
WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Heighington, Lui, Ayshford, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (2)
At Central Coast Football Stadium, Gosford.
Crowd 20,059.

pick up some new banjo strings

Grinning Winners,

Didn't seen a frame of this match after finding myself wandering about on Cockatoo Island on Sunday afternoon looking at the art and the remarkable industrial architecture, instead of being fixated by a Swans game on the crystal bucket, just for a change of scenery.
So not really in any position to venture much comment, given that not a flicker of film has gone past the eyelids.
And so, missed the best win of the season, by all accounts.
TB.
Too bad.
A seasoned observed sent a message through on the bush telegraph advising of the 39 point win, and told me to get down to the shop on Monday morning to pick up a some new banjo strings before they sold out, as they could be needed for a few more rousing renditions of the team song before the season is out, on the strength of that win.
Even if it was against a side who the Carlton coach admitted on interview after the game that had "lost their way".
TB.
Too bad.
Also suggested the Son of Gary Jack was instrumental in completely closing down Judd, while the Goodes Train enjoyed being on a long leash and probably got the three Brownlow votes by the unanimous acclamation of the Bamfords.
At least SC Roos is still marking the notches on the right side of the coach's ledger; he knows the inestimable value of wining away, while some suggest Horse Longmire had a lot to do with the six goal jump out of the blocks and cruelling any chance the home side might have had well before half time, and then pedalling along comfortably in the Championship Quarter, before closing down the whole shooting match in the final stanza.
Worked then, might work again.
Seven multiple goalkickers suggests the mid-field boys and the forward line have found their mojo again.
On a now thin roster of fit players, 9 and 7 is not to be sneezed at.
Did note mid week that Henry Playfair has retired at age 27.
Gave the game away after picking up a couple of hairline fractures in the spine after falling over unchallenged in the game against Richmond, which he quite rightly called as "embarrassing".
That'd be enough to stop any bloke in his tracks though, and combined with a chronic hammy and Shagger's Back, found himself with no choice but to give the game away.
Appeared in just 16 games for Sydney, after 52 with Geelong.
Sadly, a glittering career consigned to the footnotes of history.

CARLTON: 1.0, 3.1, 8.3, 10.8 (68). Goals: Hampson 2, Judd, Scotland, Simpson, Betts, Yarran, Waite, Garlett, Murphy
SYDNEY: 6.3, 10.6, 14.9, 16.11 (107). Goals: Shaw 3, McVeigh 2, Bolton 2, Moore 2, McGlynn 2, White 2, Meredith 2, Goodes.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 31,915.

How many weeks has it been now that the Mighty Tiges have been making an art form out of taking the get out of jail free card?
Call me a weakling nancy boy if you like, but with low scudding clouds and rain about, and the mercury dropping to about six degrees C, wasn't among the faithful counted at the turnstiles at the spiritual home of Balmain rugby league.
Only heard snippets of the strange MMM radio call of this one while shivering at the mull bowl down in Dad's Shed, so again, didn't see a frame.
But heard enough to realise the Tigers reduced themsleves to 0-16 at one stage, and 4-16 at half time.
At 16-16 late in the second half, Balmain yet again never led at any stage, after Benji had shanked the field goal attempt with six minutes to go, until less than five minutes left in the caper when Fulton got on the end of a well timed Marshall pass and barged over for the match winner, and with two minutes left on the clock, Benji scoops the thing off the deck after a dropped Cowboys ball, busts at least four tackles, and runs like the clappers to the tryline to put the fruit on the sideboard.
No finer sight in world sport.
Remarkable that they won by that much given that Benji had discovered when it was too late that his Mum had forgotten to polish his kicking boots and he could manage only one goal in six attempts at the cross-bar.
SC Sheens was seen in the dug out to be pulling out the few tufts of hair left on his head, while Roycey Simmons was more pragmatic, as he lept about like some kind of whirling dervish on seeing the Fulton try.
Obviously figured that, as the general go-to-man, he wouldn't be called upon to do anything this week, apart from re-organising Benji's boot polish contract and have a quiet talk to his Mum.
Equal second on the ladder with August to come exceeds all expectations of the so-called pundits, but the Club Secretary would still be worrying.
Especially at the remarkable sight of John "The Great Skando" Skandalis coming out of retirement for the second time in as many seasons, due to the cupboard being bare with the number of first-pick forwards now in the Sick Bay.
Skando would have been saying to SC Sheens "aw, c'mon Tim, please, please, don't do this to me. Don't ask, please. I am 34 years old, for chrissake!"
But when called on, had he no hesitation in pulling back on the black and gold guernsey, and mixing it with fearsome 18,19 year old man-mountains.
However, old skills, hard & wizened sinews, mental toughness, vast experience, guile, and a hide like a buffalo will win out over the yoof of today everytime, regardless of the creaking bones.
Much to the relief of the Secretary, at least The Great Skando doesn't come into any salary cap calculations; he comes "free".
Happy to just pull his generous salary as the Forwards Coach, and play for a roast beef roll with gravy and a snort of absinthe on match day.
WESTS TIGERS 26. Tries: Tuqiri (2), Brown, Ayshford, Fulton, Marshall. Goals: Marshall (1).
NORTH QUEESLAND 16. Tries: Graham, Harris, Taumata. Goals: Thurston (2).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 11,364.

a good ol' fashioned stink in the scrum

Long kickers,

After enduring the many vagaries of an 18th birthday party at our gaff on Saturday night, there was nothing for it to curl up on the lounge like some kind of fat white grub and wait for The Rules to come on the crystal bucket so one could watch it through half closed eyelids.
Lucky for me, or anyone else in the household for that matter, there were no moments of any notable excitement throughout the game to disturb my fallen over relaxation, as the Swans were just intent on getting the lead with a five goal first quarter and then playing ugly through to the final siren.
Time for a lazy Sunday afternoon slumber.
No more evinced by the fact that Sydney failed to score a single goal in the Championship Quarter - not that they were really trying very hard to in any case - and still won the match by 30 points!
And the fans love it.
They'll keep coming back week after week to see that.
Not.
It was one of those games where the scorers when asked to nominate "best" for the scorebox in the fishwraps for the next day would have had trouble picking anyone out, as it was a match where most players were satistfied with doing a bit here and there; Goodesy took a couple of good marks, kicked a few goals, Malceski and Kennelly, along with The Ugliest Man in Football did a good job shutting down the Norths forwards, while Jack, Hanneberry, and Mumsy et al all did a bit here and there up front, but it was anyone's guess as to who was best on ground.
Perhaps the bloke who never gets a mention on the scoresheet, Mike Pyke, who did a sterling job with the hit outs in the ruck, given that he has been hypnotised by the trick cyclists on the coaching staff into thinking that he is still in the line out.
As if they got to third gear, eased off the throttle, and then pushed the button marked "auto pilot".
It was all so cynical that SC Roos appeared to spend most of the last quarter picking his nose; he was that interested in what was going on.
If SC Sheeds can promise some razzle-dazzle football with Israel leading the way in the years to come, he'll get a lot of converts on board the western bandwagon, given that sort of display at the SCG.
In that case, the Swans would be forced to artifically inflate their turnstiles figures even further.
A seasoned observer at the ground sent me a telegraph message soon after the off saying "they'd be very lucky if they've got even close to 20 in".
Needless to say, he was simply astonished when they posted the official crowd.
Go figure.

SYDNEY: 5.4, 8.6, 8.9, 12.13 (85). Goals: Goodes 3, Shaw 2, McGlynn, Jack, Bevan, Mumford, Kirk, Dennis-Lane, Malceski.
NORTH MELBOURNE: 2.3, 4.7, 5.9, 7.13 (55). Goals: Campbell 2, Goldstein 2, Thomas, Bastinac, Adams.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 23,856 (? ed).

In his spare time, Benji Marshall has been making a study of The Art & Science of The Field Goal, and has obviously come to the conclusion that he concurs with the basic tenet of "get one when you don't need one, because when you need one you might not be able to get one".
And what an absolute corker it was too, from a bloke who has all but given up kicking in general play.
On the toe just inside the half way mark, cannons high, wide and handsome - a veritable rainmaker - bends back slightly on the breeze and literally falls from a great height clean onto the top of the black dot, and then tumbles off on the correct side of the cross bar for one point.
Magnificent.
You could practice that kick from here to breakfast, and never nail it.
Right up there with a hole-in-one.
SC Sheens was moved to comment on interview after the game "i thought to myself 'what the hell is he trying to do here?', then i found myself saying to myself 'you bewdy!'...maybe the football gods did smile on us."
Also very pleasing to see a good ol' fashioned stink in the scrum, with The Best Leb in The Game prominent.
That well known idiot N.Friend had been giving Farah the silly un-called-for niggle all game.
The clip across the chops here, the elbow in the ribs here, a squirrle grip there, that sort of thing.
In the end, Farah had just had enough - you can only take so much gratuituous violence for so long - and when Friend tried to head butt him across the front row, that was the cue for a couple of short, sharp upper cuts from Farah in the scrum.
The packs exploded of course, and it was on for young and old, just like in the olden days.
While Friend did not aquit himself very well in the ensuing melee as he was somwhat dazed by the well placed punches, both escaped penalty which was only right and proper for mine, but the Bamford saw fit to send that well known fool M.Minichiello to the bin for carrying like some kind of bush turkey on heat in a business which was none of his business.
Now that's what the fans come to see.
Penalty leads to Balmain try with Titans down to 12 men, and a match winning 15-8 lead.
Defence again the key to a not too complex puzzle, and the longer the season goes on, the dourer doth the game become, as teams simply try to protect their ladder positions while trying not to get bashed up too much and keep their key men fit and out of harm's way.
Simply no need to excell to excess at this stage in proceedings.
The Club Secretary would have had the abacus out on the desk this week totting up the numbers, working out the probability, crunching the multiples and computing the edges of the margins in order to get his punts on; on a top three finish.
With three games yet to come at Leichhardt, and with five opponents in the current bottom eight in the last eight matches, he'd be shovelling the Disabled Players Benevolent Trust Fund cash into the bookmakers bag on the Tigers being somewhere in the JJ Giltinan Shield trifecta at any old odds.

WESTS TIGERS 15. Tries: Brown, Ayshford. Goals: Marshall (3). Field Goals: Marshall (1).
GOLD COAST TITANS 14. Tries: Rogers, Gordon. Goals: Rogers (3).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 14,050.

"déjà vu all over again"

Prescription drug abusers,

Another nicely played get out of jail free card.
And it was a very eerie repetition of Leichhardt a fortnight ago -- as Rabbits Warren said on the crystal bucket commentary "déjà vu all over again".
Opening play -- Brisbane make a complete mess of the kick off and the ball rolls through the in-goal into touch; Tigers score a try off the back of the half-way re-start.
And then, nothing but messy football right through to the denoument, with the unlikely Brown going over for a try, with less than two minutes left, to lock in the match winner.
Almost a perfect carbon copy of the Raiders game.
Quite weird.
The Balmain forwards put in their best performance for the year, for mine, with The Refrigerator, His Royal Heighington, The Bludnut, That Pom, and The Best Leb in The Game all prominent.
That's a very good thing given that forwards, even in this day and age, still tend to win games of rugby league football, while the backs can suit themselves.
The GLW was hysterical during a comical first half incident when nothing much at all was happening the game, and some Broncos player was tackled just short of the tryline and had his shorts pulled down in the process, and appeared to have a roll of toilet paper coming out of the wedge between his buttock cheeks, where he appeared to have had a nervous sticky shit in the rooms before running out on the ground.
Funny as a fit.
Talk about larf.
Turned out on replay it was just a shredded jockstrap, white in colour.
Behind and looking beaten with ten left on the clock, SC Sheens reaches for the rain coat in the un-covered dug out at The Cauldron like a firecracker with a slow burning fuse, given the Bamfords were having their worst shocker of the season, about which the less said, the better.
Suffice to say SC Sheens went completely apoplectic when the young Balmain kiddie Fifita was pinged for a knock on in the play-the-ball, when the replay revealed the play-the-ball was, in fact, dead-set legit, nothing at all wrong with it.
Yet another unwarranted home side penalty that would easily do your head in.
Under the rain hoodie on the bench, a rare stream of four-lettered invective issued forth from the coach's mouth directed fairly and squarely at the court jesters masquerading as match officials, along with a piercing glare of the visage that would have done The Men Who Stare At Goats proud.
The Great Sterlo on the unblinking eye wrap up was moved to comment "in a month, no one will remember how on earth they won that one".
Doesn't matter.
And no one will care, either.
Miraculously, the ladder position after last week's loss to the Saints was done no damage, and that remarkable win sees a top four spot now consolidated for the Mighty Tiges, for the time being.
The second best "we'll take our wins" victory of the season.

BRISBANE BRONCOS 14. Tries: Te'o, Beale. Goals: Parker (3).
WESTS TIGERS 16. Tries: Lawrence, Marshall, Brown. Goals: Marshall (2).
At Lang Park, Brisbane.
Crowd: 30,127.


As Richmond sang their wretched team song, it became apparent that the unmistakeable sound of the Swans' season being flushed down the toilet could also be distinctly heard in the background.
Not through to the S-bend yet at 7 and 7, but it won't take long.
There were dark mutterings of "utter disgrace!" among those who care in this household.
Getting beat by four by the team running stone motherless after leading by 33 in the Championship Quarter had more than a few dumbfounded.
An interesting stastistic was being bandied about prior to the game -- this season, the Swans had not won against a top eight side, and had not lost against a bottom eight side.
That was, until now.
It might be instructive to compare and contrast the games of the most inexperienced and the most experienced players in the side
The first gamer, Trent Dennis-Lane found that he has a helluva lot to learn if he wants to run with the big boys; too nervous for mine, might have kicked a bag of goals in the WAFL last year, but this is a different league.
He must be wondering about Karmichael Hunt and Israel Folau coming on board as multi-millionaire rookies, who will undoubtedly face the same problems as he is facing now, when he'd be lucky to be on the wage of a brickies labourer.
The Goodes Train as a make shift full forward might be good in theory, but given he has lost his twinkle toes over recent weeks, and the ability to put the ball on the end of a string, and was exposed in the second half despite coming good, as he could only get a kick when the midfield finally woke up and directed accurate kicks onto the chest on a well timed lead.
There's no use being any less than blunt about it -- The Train should think seriously about joining his mate Magic in The Pantheon, and as for Cap'n'Kirk, well he should just follow through with his committment, and retire forthwith, without any further ado.
No Bradshaw [wasn't he a good buy in retrospect after setting the world on fire in the first few games when he wasn't suffering from a knee?], while the Great Irishman is obviously struggling with the knee, as he was pretty much proppy throughout, and there's nothing for smoko.
SC Roos had gone from an excitable madman in last week's last quarter to a sullen rooster, who knows full well that he is destined for the pot.
No sooner was everyone thinking that my mate Cuz was having a blinder out of the blue in the second half - dead set looked like the bloke was back on the fabulous marching powder, a cheeky half time snort, that sort of thing - than lo and behold he ends up in intensive care at a suburban hospital the morning after, when some floozie in his flat couldn't rouse him from his slobbering slumber.
Why didn't that surprise?
No one was that concerned given that it took triage an hour and fifteen minutes to admit The Iceman to the general wards before someone decided to park him in ICU for the night, on the basis of his previous form.
Then the Richmond Football Club comes out with the excuse that he was crook as Rookwood due to taking a dodgy sleeping pill and a bad ice cube to come down from the buzz and the thrill.
Why didn't that surprise?
It's a wonder Cuz didn't come out of it without brain damage?
But then again, who knows how many brain cells were there to start with.

RICHMOND: 3.0, 5.0, 9.3, 14.5 (89). Goals: Riewoldt 5, Collins 3, Newman 2, Farmer, Martin, Griffiths, Nason.
SYDNEY: 3.3, 6.6, 10.11, 12.13 (85). Goals: McVeigh 3, Goodes 2, Moore 2, Jack, McGlynn, Pyke, Mumford, Dennis-Lane.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 39,386.

carrying on like a pork chop

Brave beserkers,

It was a sight to behold.
SC Roos going absolutely ballistic, off his chops, in an apoplectic rage in the three quarter time huddle, as the players looked on in startled terror, culminating in the coach tearing up the game plan into small pieces.
He must have been on some powerful drugs if his crazy madcap last quarter antics were anything to go by.
SC Roos spent the final stanza prowling the boundary line like some pyschiatric out-patient, leaping about maniacally and laughing hysterically, chucking bits of the game plan around in gay abandon, poking assistant coaches with his forefinger just for fun, tearing off strips of paper that were remaining on the clip board and screwing them up into balls, and throwing them at players sitting on the bench, hoping to dong one of them on the head, and generally carrying on like a pork chop.
Scenes never witnessed before at the Olympic Stadium.
The bloke has finally cracked; gone mental by his own admission "players who are unable or unwilling to stick with the game plan is something I will not miss about coaching" {my italics}, he said on interview after the game when asked to explain away his bizzare behaviour.
But the man can be be forgiven, given the team on the park he was allegedly in charge of was all over the shop like a mad woman's breakfast throughout proceedings.
Won't name the guilty, because they know who they are.
As we ingressed at the ground it became obvious, as it always does, that there were far more Pies fans than Swans fans going in.
Always the way.
Just the nature of the beast.
The cheapest seats behind the southern goal where the Collingwood cheer squad live, next to the cheap seats we were sitting in, was thick in black and white, mainly those from the scores of chartered buses that make the trip each year from Melbun arriving just in time for the opening bounce, and then turn around immediately after the match and go straight back in time for breakfast at home.
Supporters of the 'Pies are everywhere, and they travel.
Seen them in their Collingwood jerseys in the remotest parts of Indo-China in my time, so getting to the Western Paddock was no issue.
Well remember getting along to my first ever Collingwood game at the SCG, back in the glory days when the Swans were the Leanne and Dr Edelsten show with Warwick "fruit shop down the front of the pants" Capper turning out at full forward, and there were several hundred of them enjoying themselves in the MA Noble Stand bar, all wearing specially made black and white rosettes which had printed around the magpie motif "COLLINGWOOD -- PRIDE OF THE NATION".
Thought then, and still think now, that they were drawing a long bow.
Still, the so-called "Fanatics" have got nothing on these people.
But back to the game.
Difficult to compete when the Swans found themselves outclassed all over the field, with every Collingwood player seeming to have at least an extra yard of pace over their opponents; young, old, infirm, it didn't matter.
After three quick behinds from the visitors kicked from right in front of us to start, Sydney never led at any stage in the match, and not for the first time this season found themselves playing miserable catch up football against a side that had loose men everywhere.
Collingwood should have won by alot more.
Losing Bradshaw and the Great Irishman on game day to long term knee niggles had them behind the eigtht-ball from the off.
Won't get very far without a full-forward or a full-back.
The trip home on the event bus was a solem affair as the realisation slowly sunk in among the loyal passengers that the Swans on that showing will be lightly toasted brown bread in about five minutes in September, if they get that far.
While the Western Paddock remains a superb bit of architecture for shifting a large crowd around with the minimum of fuss, having got it right the first time around for the Olympics, the beer is still as bad as ever.
Why is that?
Ten years to solve a problem and yet no one in charge appears to have put their minds to it.
And most disappointed to find that you can no longer steal a pie.
They have simply disappeared, vanished.
The self serve pie warmers in the bars have been stripped out and replaced with tubs of free bottled water on ice.
Something to do with Australia's draconian drinking regulations it said on the sign pointing out that it was free, something along the lines of drinking water is good for you if you are drinking; while it's only taken them five years plus to realise that while they had no trouble moving all the pies out of the warmers during the course of a match, very few of them actually went through the cash registers.
Surely, offering free food is a much better option for drinkers who would treat bottled water with disdain, even if it was free?
A welcome benevolent touch from the promoters for the punters in the form of a complimentary puff pastry case filled with cheap meat and offal gravy, done away with, just like that, at the stroke of some bureaucrat's pen.
Every day, some underpinning slips away...
Whatever drugs SC Roos is on -- well, by crikey, we all want some of those.

SYDNEY: 2.3, 4.4, 6.7, 10.11 (71). Goals: O'Keefe 3, McGlynn 2, Kirk, Bird, Shaw, Rohan, White,
COLLINGWOOD: 3.6, 7.11, 10.17, 13.18 (96). Goals: Dawes 3, Sidebottom 2, Cloke 2, Brown 2, O'Brien, Dick, Didak, Jolly.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 47,585.

The game at Kogarah had that air of inevitability about it - but that's what you get when you play teams that are patently well over the salary cap.
They don't call their leagues club the Taj Mahal for nothing.
And then, knock me down with a feather, no sooner had the Saints beaten the Tigers than they announced with great fanfare that they had signed Mark Gasnier just before the June 30 deadline and were going to bring him back to his spiritual home from the fabulously well-salaried Elysian Fields of French Rugby Union; available to play on the next weekend if you like.
How does that work?
How could they possibly fit the likes of Gasnier under the cap on the bloated stipend he's become accustomed to, unless they signed him on a sausage roll and a half a bottle of beer contract?
Another case of why the cap remains important.
Who needs a two horse race come September?
With everyone else just nipping at their ridiculously over-paid heels?
SC Sheens was resigned to it all as just another reminder to "learn from our losses", hitting the nail on the head when he said on interview after the game:
"I said to the guys that if they want to run with the big boys then they have to be able to handle those sorts of games".
SC Sheens is a long time dedicated pragmatic realist with very little hair left on his scone, who went onto to say that in his opinion, on current form, they'd struggle to be competitive in a semi-final.
An ominous warning to a team playing at almost full strength that they really need to find some more to get on in the caper.
A good job for Roycee Simmons, as he has that canny knack of being able to fix things, aka the bleedin' obvious, without anyone ever asking.
The GLW got quite sick of the sight of the St George full back J.Soward on the telly as he kept on plonking them over the black dot, and gave him a new nickname, "Duck Bum", on account of the way he holds his posterior when he lines up for a kick at goal.
It is almost laughable.
She was keen on blaming Duck Bum for everything, and who could blame her?


ST GEORGE ILLAWARRA DRAGONS 34. Tries: Boyd, Creagh, Morris, Soward, Stanley. Goals: Soward (7).
WESTS TIGERS 10. Tries: Lawrence, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (1).
At Kogarah Jubilee Oval.
Crowd: 16,574.

Craven.