"you'd swear he was covered in spiders"

Arachnologists,

A bizzare game of football if ever there was one.
With the brand new flat screen telly in the corner of the loungeroom that had been ordered in just in time for the new footy season firmly locked on to news from the tally room, found myself scrabbling about in the rafters of Dad's Shed fiddling about and adusting the radio aerial to beam in the long range broadcast of the Tiges game.
Football had been bumped off local radio, both ABC and commercial, in favour of election coverage.
Managed to tune into the only option for a continuous call of the rugby league proceedings on the reliable old shed wireless from ABC 612AM Brisbane.
Reception was fairly scratchy through the white noise snow, so brought a portable radio down to the shed and tuned it into the same frequency.
Voila! Bingo! AM Stereo! Brilliant!
Needless to say, it worked a treat.
Well aware that the call was freely available with crystal clear clarity on the net thingy, but this was much more fun.
Maybe it's time to cut the mustard and do a deal to get a digital radio?
No idea who was calling the game, but he did have a nice turn of phrase.
Marshall was making a bustling run being heavily involved in some first-half set-play and the commentator called it thus:
"Marshall! He's busted through one tackle, now he's done another, threw a dummy, stepped in and slipped away from a third tackle, and now a fourth! How about that! He's still going Marshall! Now, he's finally brought down. Fair Dinkum! You'd swear he was covered in spiders."
Forwards laid some solid groundwork, as you'd expect, to give the Great Benji and the other backs room to put on the jink, the step, the weave to good effect and it always looked like it was going to be tries-a-plenty, especially against a Raiders' defence that was put on the back foot one too many times.
The visitors really had no hope after a forward scored a brilliant run away try off his own bat...Mr Andrew Fifita, who's of course built like a Sherman tank, busted the advantage line wide open and found himself in the clear with no visible means of support, with only the full back to beat; cranked up the tracks on the armoured personel carrier, swatted the full back out the way and ran a full 50 metres to plant the ball underneath the black dot.
Magnificent!
Now that's embarrassing for any opposition.
Speaking of complete embarrassment for Marshall; lining up to kick a gimmee goal, only problem was that his kicking boot got in caught the turf and the ball dribbled a few yards off the kicking tee and rolled end on end and went no further, failed even to become airborne.
Joisus.
No further evidence needed viz a viz the urgent need for a new goal kicker!
With the game in the dilly bag, the Try Scoring Freak was stretchered off with ten minutes to go with what keen observers at the ground described as "a shocker".
Turns out the poor bastard had to be taken to the local hospital and given a general anesthetic before they could get five blokes in white coats to jump on him and put his dislocated hip back into place.
Never heard of such an injury before, but was always bound to be very bad.
With Lawrence gorn, the Tiges appeared to loose all interest in the game, and proceeded to let in not one, not two, but three soft tries in the denoument.
Not a good look when a well regarded student of the game remarked over the bush telegraph that the second half represented a chance to "put the fear into the other teams".
Didn't work like that.
SC Sheens would have been filthy as with the last 10 minutes, reminding his charges in no uncertain terms that the game only goes on for 80 minutes, for gawd's sake, and there's no time for a nap, let alone a sleep at
Campbelltown.
You might be mugged, as they were.
The Great Todd "The Refrigerator" Payten played his 250th game [a rarity in league] and threw his weight around well in the early part; happy enough to take the accolades.
One helluva unit who played in the '05 Grand Final and whose longevity has been truly remarkable.
Softly spoken off field and has an admirable long standing policy of never drawing any attention to himself.
Curiously enough his 250th came playing against the team he is now playing with at the same ground as he did in his debut game, when he turned out for Canberra, then coached by Tim Sheens.
Circular circularity at its finest.
With Lote "Wot'd I do Guv?" Tuqiri out with a broken right forearm, as a result of an innocuous first half tackle, until Round 11 at best, and The Try Scoring Freak gorn until Round 16 at the very very earliest [read season ender, for mine], surely it's not another season -- you can pick any one you like from The Drought of '06-'09 -- that is tragically cruelled by injury?
SC Sheens had the proper take on it as quoted in the Sunday fishwraps
'You learn in this game that you've got to get on with it. It would be a waste for Chris if we lose next week … It's very disappointing for the kid and for the team, to lose our left edge tonight. The players have got to come to grips with getting ready for another week.'
Indeed, the "left edge" wiped out in the blink of an eye.

WESTS TIGERS 34. Tries: Lawrence, Utai, Lui, Heighington, Ayshford, Fifita. Goals: Marshall (5).
CANBERRA RAIDERS 24: Tries: Ferguson (3), Vidot, Dugan. Goals: Croker (2).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 14,091.


Another bizzare game by any measure and they only have themselves to blame.
Suppose it's as good a time as any in the season to learn the painful lesson that nine times out of ten games of Australian Rules Football are usually won and lost in the Championship Quarter.
That's why it's called the Championship Quarter, doh.
Three goals nine behinds in Q3 is a dead-set coach killer, with most of the bent-wide chances coming from set shots.
Deary me.
No doubt Coach Horse aka Mr Ed would have raised his voice as he told them that to escape with two points from the draw that they narrowly got away with is only half the punishment.
If he had any sense, he would have just got the forwards together on the training paddock on Monday morning and told them they can only go home once they have kicked 50 goals, each.
At the same time, he'd be saying to the Club Secretary "I'm new to this, boss!".
He'd claim tactics and strategy need careful planning, which takes time, and fair enough you'd suppose, but that sort of inaccuracy in front of the big sticks just doesn't wash.
Although there were some encouraging aspects, it's hard to see at this early stage, the Swans being really competitive with the genuine top sides.
And yet there have been a few sharp long time observers of the game who pre-season rated The Red & The White a chance of making the top four.
Mmmm....
Thought the Yoof of Today who the club have recruited over the past couple of years acquitted themselves well.
The likes of Son of Gary, Big Ted, the Haneberry Kiddie, Jetta the Joint Strike Fighter, Rick Shaw, In Like McGlynn, Jesse James White, Reg Grundy, even Spida Jnr on debut, all sparkled from time to time, but still need to learn how to play four good quarters of football consistently to make a major impact, while the veterans and journeymen did what they've been doing year in year out, just getting things done.
Mr Ed would be well aware that he has but one superstar on the roster - who's star is on the wane - and then it's a long step down off The Goodes Train to a handful of players who are capable of out and out brilliance.
Rhino Keefe probably the best among them on the day.
Seems they're going down the right track, but it looms as a rebuilding year in all probability.
There's no substitute for hard won experience, but Jetta's 80 yard solo run from half back flank almost to the full forward square, with no less than five bounces along the way, only goes to prove there's nothing like exuberance.
It doesn't win matches, but it can go a long way.

MELBOURNE: 3.2 5.8 8.12 11.18 (84). Goals: Green 2, Dunn 2, Jurrah 2, Moloney, Sylvia, Bennell, N Jetta, Jones.
SYDNEY: 5.3 7.5 10.14 11.18 (84). Goals: McGlynn 3, J Bolton 3, Goodes 2, Everitt, White, Reid.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 33,951.

A night out at Leichhardt brought to you by Panadol

Thrill Seekers,

It rained, on and off, all day Saturday and after weeks, if not months of no significant precipitation in Sydney, we looked like facing the irony of getting a wet arse at the football.
However, apart from a little mizzle as we climbed heartbreak hill up from the river to the Mary St entrance, not a single drop of rain fell during the match, and then the minute we walked back in through the front door, the overnight deluge began.
84mm in the rain gague at home in the 24 hours to 0900 Sunday.
Lucky.
With the weather coming in from the NE it made even more sense for me and the Good Lady Wife to perch ourselves on the low wall under the cover of the towering Port Jackson fig treeS [at the risk of being donged on the head by falling fruit] overlooking the NW corner post [which fell over of its own accord during the first half presumably due to the soft ground and had to be repaired by a bloke armed with a hacksaw] until some enormous man mountain of a brown brother, dressed in gumboots, some kind of blue boiler suit teamed with protective rugby headgear, sporting a giant silver fern flag attached to a log of a flag pole appeared as if out of nowhere, along with his outrageously drunk weedy little white bread mate in full Worriers match day kit and decided to take up residence right near us, and proceed to ruin it for everyone.
Then moved to the other end of the ground and found that the offical crowd figure had been inflated by a bit [lucky if there were 10K in, for mine, fairweather fans just didn't turn up - It's like that in Sydney] and found that we could squeeze in and lean over the railing on the terrace in front of the grand stand and watch the Tigers score the match winning tries right in front of our noses.
Brilliant!
Despite the rain reprieve, it was a ratty, dour first half exhibition of wet weather football on a greasy ground, indicated by the 0-0 scoreline after the traditional softening up period and the 6-6 scoreline at the break.
The Worriers had the bulk of first half possession and the Tiges were lucky to get away with only one try scored against them, but the visiting Kiwi's as a result were bashed from pillar to post by the Balmain forwards, and looked buggered.
It seemed certain they would run out of puff and floodgates would open to some extent, and so it came to pass, with three tries late in the half enough to seal the deal.
Obviously under instruction, Robert "not bad for a kid" Lui played a more traditional old-style kind of half back at second receiver, and while the Great Benji again just tried too hard, but at least he had a hand in every try.
The forwards manned up well in defence, but still lack some starch in taking the ball up.
That said, Keefy "Bludnut" Galloway made some important busts through the advantage line to put his backs in the clear.
After scoring another double, there was a pleasing note mid-week with Chris Lawrence being invited to lunch with the Club Secretary in the Member's Dining Room at the Balmain Leagues Club, where the Try Scoring Freak signed a new five year contract on the back of a beer coaster.
The Board took the view that The Freak should not be a new Scotty Prince - a big fish who got away.
On interview after the game, SC Sheens described the match as a "Panadol night" intimating that he's got a few headaches to cure before the Tigers can start taking all before them.
There's no substitute for match practice and match fitness, so it will come in due course.
In the meantime, a win is a win, however dire.
There was a touching half-time tribute to Taniela "The Human Wrecking Ball" Tuiaki, at a ground where he is much loved.
Here's a bloke who shattered an ankle at the end of the '09 season, missed the entire '10 season, and retired at the tender age of 28 just before the start of this season in the knowledge that he would never come right.
They paraded him around all four corners of the ground, from time-to-time arm-in-arm with some cheer girls, who let him go to do the long, lonely solo walk in front of the grand stand.
As he meekly waved to the members giving him a standing ovation, he tried manfully to hide his limp, but failed.
The poor, poor bastard.

WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Lawrence (2), Ayshford, Farah. Goals: Marshall (2).
NEW ZEALAND WARRIORS 12. Tries: Inu, Mannering. Goals: Seymour (2).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 13,161.

"The Premiership Table brought to you by WD40"

Fellow Members of the Royal College of Optomotrists,

Robbed blind.
A fantastic way to start the season.
The general consensus of opinion among the seasoned observers at the ground was that third try of the match early in the second half involved, not one, but two forward passes.
The Bamford had obviously forgotten to put his contact lenses in before the game and the relevant touch judge had somehow managed to turn himself into a pillar of salt, and despite the flagrant flouting of the rules, found himself frozen by the fear of having to make a decision, and was unable and/or unwilling to blow his whistle.
It completely changed the complexion of the match, giving the Bulldogs critical momentum.
Joisus.
Walked in thru the front door from the mid-north coast and found the game already underway, and wandered down to Dad's Shed to do a few jobs and listen to the much improved MMM radio call of the Monday night game.
Did like the strategic sponsorship in the post match analysis of "The Premiership Table brought to you by WD40".
The ladder will need a bit of a spray to de-clog the rusty cogs in the inevitable mid-season log jam.
A worry that the forwards are still to find their feet, but that will come with match fitness.
It didn't help that SC Sheens made a big gamble that didn't pay off by keeping the likes of Peyton, Ellis & Heighington on the bench with the aim of re-injecting them into the game in the last 10 minutes, when, by that stage, it was fairly much game over.
SC Sheens said little on interview after the disappointment, accepting blame while commenting "the No.6 and the No.7 will probably tell you they could have had better games".
True enough.
Lui tried to get to every play-the-ball to be first receiver, only to cramp The Great Benji's style, leaving the centre pairing gasping for air.
And of course, with his minor off-field drama still looming large in his mind, Marshall just tried too hard.
Full stop.
It's also painfully apparent, as it was all last season, that BM can't kick goal.
Hopeless.
There's a rumour that Balmain has some junior waiting in the wings who is a dead accurate specialist goal kicker who can't get a game currently until his work in general play improves.
Don't know what his name is.
Who does?
Whoever he is, bring him on.
Despite, or perhaps because of, living in the heart of Canterbury-Bankstown territory for the past 12 years or so, still can't stand it when Canterbury-Bankstown beat anyone {with the possible exception of Manly}, let alone the Mighty Tiges.
It's something about the culture.
The Club Secretary would have got out a brand new Coach's Ledger for the start of the season, so SC Sheens could scratch a mark in the column headed "we'll learn from our losses" with "well take our wins" untouched on the other side of the page.
There's always this Saturday night at Leichhardt against the Worriers to make a start there.


CANTERBURY-BANKSTOWN BULLDOGS 24. Tries: Morris, Pritchard, Keating, Turner. Goals: Goodwin (4).
WESTS TIGERS 14. Tries: Tuquiri, Lawrence, Marshall. Goals: Marshall (1).
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.

sorting out the entree fork from the fish knife

Loyalists,

Just handed over four pineapples to the Mighty Tiges for tickets for two to all four home games at Leichhardt Oval, which apparently, also entitles me and the Good Lady Wife to membership of the Wests Tigers Rugby League Football Club.
Joisus.
Only been going to Leichhardt Oval for 25 years, and never once did it cross my mind to take up club membership, probably on the principal of "never join a club that would have you as a member".
So after all this time, in one simple transaction, it appears they've tapped me as a member, albiet by default.
It only gets you general admission and a member's cap mind you, but at least they can't lock you out when they close the gates as the crowd pushing to get in is deemed dangerously too large.
Mighty Tiges would have to be a magnificent bright shining chance for the flag this year, with a virtually unchanged line up that went third last year, including the Sensational Six, who are the remaining survivors of the Miracle Year '05.
They include Bryce Gibbs who was quoted in the SMH as saying that he would be rather disappointed if Balmain didn't go top at the end of the regular season and pick up the JJ Giltinan Shield.
Who's to argue with a big boofy prop forward who'd rather knock yr block off than look at you?
This was the bloke who last year scribbled on a scrap of paper "I will retire from the NRL if we don't make the 8 this season".
A few other jokers signed their names underneath, and pinned it up in the Club Secretary's office.
This was after the then Club Secretary asked SC Sheens if he would like to undergo a performance review analysis.
The mild-mannered SC Sheens exploded while doing a John Malkovich scene saying "what the fark are you talking about!!" and went straight to the board, had the club secretary sacked forthwith, and then when the new club secretary was installed, immediately took him to some cafe in Chiswick and extended his contract by a year on the back of a paper napkin, with an option for a further year, which he now finds himself inclined to take up.
Never mind the Great Benji's unfortunate incident while stone cold sober when he smacked some fool-drunk in the foul-mouthed piss-talking gob outside the McDonalds on George St at 3am on a Saturday after the inebriated idiot called him a "black c+nt", following him hosting a children's cancer charity fundraising dinner at some five star in town.
The scandal sheets made much of it of course, but the Club doesn't mind, coach doesn't mind, NRL doesn't mind, cops don't care that much, fans care less, and the justice system will consider the common assault charge a nuisance and a waste of time and money.
Better to ponder the full page feature in a recent Sunday fishrap that featured the life and times of the dashing young centre Blake Ayshford, with photographs of him with a rather unattractive woman from the leagues club showing him how to dress in a suit properly, the idea of tying his tie, the way to polish his shoes, and what it means to eat properly in polite company with a knife and fork.
You know the type of thing, sorting out the entree fork from the fish knife.
Proper training in social skills.
Then, and only then, are you are free to go and score tries and make a name for yourself, son.
It's good policy that's served SC Sheens well under his tutelage.
You don't generally find Tigers players wandering about the streets aimlessly pissed at all hours, do you?
If Benji can hold his body together he'll win everything there is to win this year
Robbie "The Best Leb in the Game" Farar, makes for an outstanding captain with an excellent football brain who doesn't muck about and leads men well in the field.
Pack?
As solid as granite in defence, as proven last year where the forwards won far more games than the backs, but also superbly capable in attack; being a bunch of marauders armed with heavy artillery to break up the opposition defensive line to allow Chris "The Try Scoring Freak" Lawrence and Lote "What'd I Do Guv?" Tuiqiri to do their business, which of course, is to trouble the scorers.
SC Sheens, who has so far declined all invitations to talk to the press about this season's prospects and has not said a word about it to anyone on or off the record, is very particular about points on the board and how they are obtained, because in the final paralysis the scorebox in the next day's papers is the only thing in the caper that matters.

Gave up trying to buy a Swans three-game superpass to matches at the Western Paddock, as the Swans have changed ticket agencies, and Ticketmaster has managed to make a complete mess of it - too hard and difficult to bother with in the end.
The price had gone up, designated seats in the cheap seats that you actually might want not guaranteed, a slow, clunky, unfriendly website that was almost unavigable, and they wouldn't take my prefered credit card.
Why change a perfectly good ticketing system when it's not broke in the first place?
Spare me.
So, instead, spent $50 on a Foundation Membership of SC Sheed's Greater Western Sydney Pygmies, even though they won't play a premiership game this season.
The infant club's membership department has been brilliant, putting the "don't care" attitude towards fans over at the Swans to shame.
Coach Horse Longmire will find he has a very hard, long road to hoe.
With a list of tried [or is that tired?] and true veterans on their last legs, a chronically injury prone principal full-forward and ruckman, some has-been journeymen, a handful of promising youngsters who have played a few games, Hannebery chief among them, and some poor choices in the rookie draft; Swans will appear to travel alright from time to time, but they won't make the eight; younger, fitter, want to win teams, of which there are now plenty, will run rings around them.
Happy to bet on it at the $1.88 currently on offer.

Sorry, but time to boot the old bush telegraph in the corner of the lounge room into service, to start receiving the intelligence from my spies at the ground and transmitting the Winter Game wire for yet another season.
It'll be fun.
You know it makes sense.

Swans ticketing fail

Found myself forced to fire off this e-mail to the Swans membership department.
No reply, as yet:

Dear Sirs,

As a loyal purchaser of the family Superpass ever since its inception, I must write to say how disappointed I am with this years offering through Ticketmaster.
I've always found the Superpass to be excellent value for money and, through the experience, have bought up my two daughters to appreciate the great game of Australian football.
What has happened to it now?
Why is it that I can't buy dedicated seats in the gold area, and instead have to buy something called family superpass registration?
What is that?
What does that give me for my $205??
I've always been able to purchase my reserved seats in a reserved seat area; why on earth not now?
Then I go and have a look at buying two x adult two x junior gold Superpasses, and find that the seats on offer are in different bays for each of the three games?
Why?
What happened to being able to buy the same seats for all three games, which was a matter of course with Ticketek?
I'm unhappy to say you have cruelled yourselves with the change of ticket agencies -- why change for the sake of change when nothing was broken with the ticketing system in the first place, which it clearly is now?
Just plain silly, for mine.
Sorry, but I'm not inclined to have any of that, thankyou.
Late last year I took up foundation membership with the Giants, for $50, on spec and some promises, even though they won't play a premiership game this season.
What can you offer me that would dissuade me from continuing headlong down the GWS track in 2012?
Please don't lose me.

Yours Sincerely,

a long way shy of a few runs

Trick Cyclists,

What's wrong with Pup?
If he was anyone else, he'd be dropped.
Forthwith.
It's obvious he's worried about his batting game - DJ Hussey says he's trying too hard to make a score.
Perhaps someone put something in his water on one of those nights out in the Eastern Suburbs?
Or something simpler, like all the cafe food he's been eating hasn't been agreeing with him?
Maybe he's not getting a root for the first time in his life?
Surely not, can't be true.
If it was, it'd be in the papers.
Is he fretting that his favourite casual fashion shirt doesn't quite fit as well as it used to?
Or is the chronic life-long incurable dose of Shagger's Back giving him more discomfort than he gives it credit for?
Looks like a bloke who would try to hide a niggle.
Then again, could be a long-standing undiagnosed psychological problem dating from chilhood that causes Michael to scratch around in the crease like an old chook while not thinking about all the ways you can get out?
Anyway, a long way shy of a few runs, to be sure, with the only saving grace some faint praise in the quarters that matter for his captaincy of a generally winning side.
Due, on some folk's account, for some good centre wicket practice at Bankstown Oval.
S'pose MJ Clarke is not that worried, even if he is nervous, given that rumour has it that Punter has had not one, but two operations on his left pinkie.
A little birdie is singing that the doctors are saying the offending digit will be deformed for life from such an innocuous accident in the cordon in Perth - a while ago now.
Who knows what it will do for RT's batting, if he ever comes back, in which case can Ricky still field effectively in the slips, or be forever gripped by fear?
Problematical at his age.
So the question of the captaincy remains wide open to conjecture.
Quite right; as it should be.
While it might not matter all that much in the grand scheme of things there is still a World Cup to be won, after all.
At least the flannelled fools have a better chance at putting on a show than the pansies going around in the current Asian Cup in the round-ball caper.
Reminds me of the tasteful souvenir t-shirt I had in mind to get made up and flog to punters lining up at the gates the last time Straya played Japan; both flags intertwined in a swirl of red,white, union jack and stars on the front of the garment, and the tour dates listed on the back, printed in bold on a boxing kangaroo motif:

Singapore: 15 Feb 1942
Darwin: 19 Feb 1942
Hiroshima: 6 Aug 1945
Nagasaki: 9 Aug 1945
Doha: 29 Jan 2011...
"THE DECIDER!"

Reckon they'd sell.

a modicum of culpability

Psychologically Scarred Spectators,

At least MJ Clarke had the decency and sense, at the miserable dénouement, to show a modicum of culpability by relinquishing the T20 Captaincy, and indeed retiring from all T20 cricket forthwith, falling on his sword while accepting the fact that he was never really any good at the shortest form, and acknowledging that he needs to try harder at test cricket.
Wise move.
It was clearly a token gesture, but at least it was one.
Didn't find myself at the ground at any stage in the five days, largely on account of the preponderance of gloating Poms, the small and uncomfortable seats, and the complete lack of full-strength beer throughout the outer ground bars.
If the point of watching cricket is pleasure, there certainly wasn't any to be found anywhere at the SCG last week, and if you are uncomfortable, tounging for a proper drink and deriving no pleasure from it, then obviously, there is no point.
Don't know that anyone has, as yet, really grasped the full extent and devastating impact of the terrible Sickness in Sydney.
Even with the Ridiculous Little Urn already long gorn.
Pup didn't really make an auspicious start to his career as Captain.
His well-made 4 on Day 1 after pulling the wrong reign at the toss and electing to bat under leaden skies on a typical Sydney summer's day dripping with humidity faced with something of a green top against a side full of quality ball-tampering seamers didn't exactly endear him to the general public or silence his legion of critics.
Fiddling with the batting order, just because he could and wanted to stamp some kind of mark of authority on the caper is never a good idea, particularly first up.
It just unecessarily messes with some ego's; putting Haddin down to six didn't work anyway, with SPD Smiffy looking good while fuming under his hat at number 7 -- until he got out.
Old timers at the ground did credit Clarke with some astuteness in the field on Day 2.
Working the bowling changes and the field placing with a little aplomb, taking Joke Johno off early after pulling the wrong reign in deciding to open with the jester, and did all he could to rally an effort out of the pop-gun attack at his disposal that was not even close to firing on all four cyclinders.
Just a pity about the Beer wicket off a Billy "Idiot Savant" Bowden no ball.
Pup found himself seriously challenged on Day 3, and struggled to skipper up to standard, for mine.
Harsh, but true.
Again he had steam coming out of Smiffy's ears as his leggie credentials were ignored until very late in the piece...mind you he went for almost 50 in ten overs, so the skipper could say with justification that he was probably right in the first place.
He ringed the changes like church bells and toyed around with the scattered chooks, but to not much avail, and eventually lost his rag, given that low down brown dog cheatin' bastard Cook, before he was eventually, at long last, finally given out.
The way it's going we might as well do away with the field umpires and let the players decide between themselves what on earth's going on.
Umpires only encourage sharp practice, underhand tactics, and bald faced cheating.
Or maybe we should go back to the Darell Bruce Hair glory days and just call whole thing off.
By the time Day 4 arrived, Pup was in no position to plug the dyke with his finger as the floodgates had by then well and truly opened, with runs, all 644 of them, flooding their way down to the coast of victory and out to a sea of ashes.
Did it not occur to him that he should have put himself on to bowl a few overs of his surprise wicket-taking left-arm dibbly-dobblers, or was the Shagger's Back playing up, or did he see it as a self indulgence that wouldn't go down well, given all that had backfired to date?
Little wonder he screamed out loud when he finished up his 2nd innings in the afternoon for a well-made 41; not enough, not nearly enough.
Just like in Adelaide, the match lost there and then to a nothing shot against a nothing ball.
Who, in their right mind, would be Captain?
Surely Day 5 was simply put on by the match promoters as an opportunity for a large mob of hopelessly pissed Poms to go completely stupid, there can be no other reasonable explanation; in any other game the mercy rule would have been invoked.
Of course the Royal Commissioners should be assembling as we speak to begin taking evidence.
Don't care if the letters patent are along the lines of the Royal Commission into The Bombing of Darwin, where even today they won't even reveal the list of witnesses, let alone a single word of the testimony.
But, then as now, the consequences and ramifications were widely known; people quietly lost their jobs or were subtly move sideways, as blame was apportioned in private.
The court jesters puportedly in charge of the game must be held to account, sacked, and the new lot, whoever they are, commanded to make damn well sure it never happens again, ever.
You can only hope it's going on, but with the Chairman and the Three Wise Men and The Board and The Punter all siging from the same hymn book as if nothing at all had happened; probably not.
With August in Colombo and Kandy now deemed to be a long way off, there's troubling unconfirmed talk of a couple of test matches in Bangladesh after the one day World Cup -- Straya is due to play them.
If it happens, that should give everyone a reasonably clear idea about where Straya stands viz-a-viz the rest of the real world.
It would concentrate the minds of the new powers-that-be when it comes to picking the next XI.
Winners are grinners, so the Poms can go please themselves as they try again, as they do, for world dominance.
The Empire strikes back.