The Debacle in Newcastle

Long sufferers,

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

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

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

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

a minute's silence

Mourners,

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

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

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

SYDNEY: Bye.

the juggernaut

Bandwagoneers,

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

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


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

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

frightened by everything

Weathermen,

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

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

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

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

anything could happen from here

Loyalists,

With Melbourne getting a month's worth of rain on the Friday, the match would have been a whole lot more interesting if they'd accidentally left the roof open at Docklands.
Pigs rooting in mud would have been better than what was on offer.
Never mind the solid first quarter, never mind being robbed blind by the Bamfords in the first half; Swans were found out well before the end of the Championship Quarter.
Game over.
It's as if the Saints took 18 rattan canes to the Swans; caned in the ruck, caned in the mid field, caned in the forwards, caned in the backs, caned 6-3 in The Champo.
It's pretty simple really.
If you man up and strangle the Sydney mid-field for possession, they don't have much else to offer, it seems.
Never mind that St Kilda are renowned for shonky play.
Has Nick Reiwoldt been picked for the Olympic diving team?
If not, why not?
He'd be perfect off the springboard, appealing to the umpires all the way down.
But, it didn't matter much in the grand scheme of things.
Odd Head battled on gamely all day, and JP Kennedy tried his best in probably his first game this season where he didn't score a Brownlow vote, but there were far too many passengers for mine.
Just for instance, despite kicking three forgettable goals, the Jetta Kiddie was entirely missing in action in the contests that mattered and was hardly seen.
Most of the time you wouldn't even know that he was playing.
Lenny's 250th lended the mysteriousness factor.
On interview after the game, Coach Horse was utterly perplexed, saying "I didn't see it coming....I didn't see it coming".
Mr Ed would've be down by the Miracle Waters for Sunday morning smoko scratching his ear and pulling out what little hair he has left on the bonce, thinking "what to do?"
The 101 point win over the hapless Demons did no good for anyone.
Top sides take beating approaching the half way mark in the season, if you are dreaming of September, and it's up to the coach to work out how to do it.
It'd help if he could decide on who to play in the ruck, with Mummy out, and take it from there.
No deliveries from the Goodes Train doesn't help, either.
Back to the drawing board for the second time since the purple patch.
Go figure.
A rather startling message chattered through on the Bush Telegraph in the corner of the loungeroom just before three quarter time.
It was from my spy at the ground and it simply read "season over".
Now, he's never been one to fall into the optimist's camp, but it could well be a "season definer", the one that's looked back on at the end of the regular season, the one that set the tone.
Who knows?
Too early to say in May.

ST KILDA: 3.1, 8.7, 14.14, 16.15 (111). Goals: Milne 3, Steven 2, Riewoldt 2, Dal Santo 2, Saad 2, Blake, Cripps, Siposs, Milera, Montagna.
SYDNEY: 4.4, 5.4, 8.6, 12.11 (83). Goals: Jetta 3, McGlynn 2, Reid 2, Jack 2, Bolton, Kennedy, Roberts-Thomson.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 34,737.


Undoubtedly the best game of the year.
Both sides dug deep; rugged defence, clever backline play off forward grit, and running rugby league - said it before, say it again - the finest sight in all world sport.
Just a pity it was played at Campbelltown "wouldn't go that far on me holidays" Sports Ground.
Farah was a clear Man of the Match after backing up from an outstanding game for NSW on Wednesday.
The Best Leb in the Game closely edged out Keefy Galloway for the gong; the now Hairless Bludnut after a visit to a barber with a sharp cut throat razor a few weeks back.
Made a million tackles, and arguably more hard yards carting the ball up than everyone else combined.
Marshall played a very good game; a more measured approach which he's been coached to play, but when he sees something moving out of place out of the corner of his eye, he's like a black greyhound and just goes for it, at pace.
The jink, the step, the pass, as if it's all done by mirrors.
And his goalkicking has improved this year by the length of the street; must be kicking hundreds of goals in practice with a specialist kicking coach the way he's going, and his mother, the poor thing, would still be polishimg those boots for good luck.
At last he's realised conversions and penalty goals are crucial in this game, and without them, you'll lose more than you win.
Aaron Woods and Matty Utai don't get much press, but they shouild be singled out for the right good go that they both put in, in defence and attack.
It's just a so much easier path to victory when the engine room is smoking and the forwards give the backs the platform to get their mojo working.
Still, the game was not without a couple of disappointing players.
Hate to single them out, but.
Despite scoring two opportunistic tries, Timmy Moltzen had an absolute shocker.
His litany of crucial mistakes almost cost Balmain the match on more than one occasion, and he would have been squarely to blame if they'd lost, so he got off the hook.
And by the way he hung his head in his hands, he knew it.
SC Sheens would be kicking the dirt saying "why didn't we sell him to St George while we had the chance?"
And the same could be said of Adam Blair - certain the coach would love to sell him back to Melbourne after bringing him on board at the start of the season as a marque player on a bloated stipend.
Not that the Storm would have him back - the bloke has made absolutely no impact on any game in 12 outings.
Costly mistake, that buy.
On interview after the match, SC Sheens mentioned nothing of that, firmly putting the result into the "we'll take our wins" column in the Coach's Ledger, but did note that it was a pretty good effort given that most of the team had sent in sick notes mid-week and were bedridden with heavy head colds and he couldn't get a full squad on the training paddock until the Saturday morning.
For old timer fans, it was very very pleasing to see Curtis "Son of Sirro" Sironen make his debut off the bench for Balmain at the tender age of 18.
After being scouted in the cradle, the kiddie is by all accounts the genuine article, with all the skills and confidence to match, and entirely unlike his father, has a good football brain on his shoulders and is a specialist five-eighth.
Curtis, it appears, has it all mapped out before him and an illustrious career awaits, if he wants it, but of course he will have to cope with playing in the long shadow of his living, breathing, dead-set legend old man who played 246 games for Balmain, 14 games for NSW, and 21 games for Australia and is one of the greatest second rowers of any era.
The boy wouldn't even have been a twinkle in his father's eye when some unknown people took it upon themselves, in the week before the '89 Grand Final, to take just a single evening to paint with a very broad brush in huge black letters across the entire length of the wall on the road bridge over the six railway tracks at Petersham station, the words:
THERE IS NO FEAR LIKE THE FEAR OF FEAR ITSELF, EXCEPT SIRRO.
Well there you go.
Precisely what was needed, just what The Doctor ordered.
A priceless mid-season purple patch with five wins and a bye on the trot, so make that 12 premiership points in the dilly bag and a place in the top eight.
Anything could happen from here.

WESTS TIGERS 26. Tries: Moltzen (2), Marshall, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (5).
NORTH QUEENSLAND COWBOYS 18. Tries: Graham, Hall, Winterstein. Goals: Thurston (3).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 13,059.

a rocket up the rectum

Hillites,

The first thing observed on shambling into Leichhardt Oval on Friday evening was two NSW cops on bicycles.
Oh dear.
Utterly ridiculous.
What were they thinking?
With thousands of punters crawling all over the hill, the terraces and in the stand, what hope did plod ever have of getting around on two wheels?
The sergeant who sent them there had either never been to a football match in his life, or is as dumb as a fence post; probably both.
In any case, the pair of hapless constables soon realised that they were fools to themselves and a burden on the community, and pedalled on out of the ground, never to return.
At the bar, ran into a well known lunatic regular at The Oval.
She's a wizened, loud-mouthed woman about my age who sports something of a mohawk hairdo and stands dwarf like at about 4'9" tall, if that, and is always dressed in the same Balmain kit from the seventies.
She was saying to no one in particular [because no one listens to her], as she chugged away on a durrie, "that's the thing I love about fookin' Leichhardt, the whole farkin' place is a designated smoking area!! Reckon us smokers should start putting out our butts up the arses of them wowser non-smokers, don't y'reckon?".
Never been one to be short of an opinion.
In an interesting segue, soon afterwards went into the dunnies for a pre-game straining of the potatoes, looked down, and saw an almost full packet of Stuyvo's that had obviously been accidentally dropped in the trough.
They were ruined of course, and the owner of the urine soaked fags would have been spewing, dead set.
Unusually for Leichhardt, things had gone awry with the catering.
On entry to the ground there were no pies available.
What the?
"Sorry luv, there's been a mix up with the pies, there should be some later" said the granny behind the snack bar.
Never saw any evidence of them for the rest of the game.
If there ever were pies, you'd expect to see a dropped one or two on the ground here and there.
After that, things did not auger well from the off, as the Tigers let in two soft, tatty tries; one of which it must be said came off the back of a plain wrong decision by the Bamfords; it could have been a technical infringement in the play the ball, there might have been a hint of offside, or something completely different, but who knows?
Every punter was shaking their head and asking the person next to them "what on earth went on there?", looking for the explanation that never came.
Standing, as we do, on the terrace at the 20 metre line at the Swimming Pool End, where the Tigers were kicking to in the first half, we hardly ever saw the ball in front of us, as Balmain made one single solitary line break in the entire first half.
The fact of the matter was they were being hammered relentlessly down the other end.
Wests were playing rubbish and getting severely punished in defence as a result.
What attack there was just looked so predictable, and hence inffective, without the Best Leb In The Game driving the engine room, with the bloke away on State-of-Origin duties.
No doubt at half time, SC Sheens would have inserted a rocket up the rectum of each and every player, while saying a few choice words.
The Good Lady Wife ventured to suggest that the Supercoach in his half time address might have said to them "If you think you played anything other than crap football in that half, you have rocks in your head" followed by an expletive or something similar.
Whatever he said, it worked
And, on the face of it, 0-10 down at half-time still looked manageable.
Things continued to go not so good when soon after half the ice cold $6 cans of Carlton and VB ran out.
Don't know that it's ever happened before; maybe the punters were just unusually toey and thirsty.
But then Balmain ran in two class tries off some well worked play by the forwards, and they were back in it.
When Matty Utai crawled his way over the line in the 63rd minute for what was effectively the match winning try, wriggling like a worm in what looked for all the world like a double movement, but the Bamford ruled he wasn't effectively tackled and so was entitled to continue to play the ball, and blew the whistle and pointed at the spot, the crowd went absolutely apeshit, as they do at Leichhardt.
No finer venue for that kind of noise in world sport.
With Farah absent, the centres all moved in a spot with Humble going to hooker, where he was uncomfortable.
Benji played really well, but his temporary move to half back didn't quite work, for mine - he's really a specialist five eighth - but he certainly remembered to bring his kicking boots with him, potting all four conversions, with two of the goals coming in from difficult angles way out on the touch line.
In the final paralysis - the difference between winning and losing.
Seen many games of better football, but the Balmain supporters wandering the back streets of Rozelle when it was over weren't complaining, and why should they?
On interview after the game, SC Sheens made an observation on ficklessness, saying "early in the season we were criticised for not grinding it out, and now that we are grinding it out, we are being accused of not playing like the Wests Tigers".
He didn't go on to say he couldn't care less about pleasing all the fans all the time, but he might as well have.
Knows the value of any win, any way you can, "at this time of year".
Looked forward to popping my head around the front door of the Front Bar at The Local on Saturday morning.
Noticed that the Brown Bros were in as usual, so just yelled out "Gotcha!"
The boys instinctively ducked for cover, and then looked all sheepish when they saw my visage, but they beckoned me to come in as they poured me a schooner from their jug.
After some back-slapping, we discussed the in and outs of the match in a quiet and sociable way.
Most convivial people they are; the antithesis of sore losers.
The Philospher took a keen interest in the conversation, but declined to participate, saying not word.
He just smiled and nodded his head as he nursed a glass of bone dry sherry.
On exiting the bar to go down to the shops, one of the Bros called out "no worry bru! We'll see you in the Grand Final, eh! That'd be choice, eh, bru?"
Bless.

WESTS TIGERS 24. Tries: Moltzen, Ryan, Tuqiri, Utai. Goals: Marshall (4).
NEW ZEALAND WARRIORS 22.Tries: Hurrell (2), Henry, Tupou. Goals: Maloney (3).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 16,406.



Well, if you don't beat Melbun by at least ten goals in the current set-up, you might as well pick up your ball, pack your things away in your kit, go home, and give the game away.
Sad.
There was absolutely nothing at all to be learned from this match.
Perhaps the only thing of note was the deliciously ironic fact that in the fixture that marked the 30th anniversary of the forcible shift of South Melbourne to Sydney, the Best On Ground was Keiran "Son of Gary" Jack, the spawn of one of the greatest rugby league legends of all time.
But, there really should be a mercy rule.
Torture serves a purpose, and is all well and good in itself, except for when it goes on too long.
Under the rule, once a team leads by 100 points, the game is declared over, and the winners are awarded 15 bonus points to go towards their percentage.
The losers can suit themselves.
Speaking of long, drawn out spanking sessions, this game was a classic advertisment for AFL games to by shortened by five minutes a quarter, with five minutes also shaved off the ridiculously long half time break, to reduce the total match time by the length of a current quarter.
Not one to go on like a pork chop about it - it won't happen of course - but you know it makes sense.
You have to wonder what it'd be like to be a Demons fan at present.
Wholly disappointing, you'd expect, and while they probably accept that the club is going through a rough trot, they'd certainly be saying whatever they pay their players is too much.
My spy at the ground found himself utterly uninspired by anything that went on, witnessed by what he described as a "poor crowd".e telegraphed through the message that the crowd figure was clearly cooked in the books, saying there was no way they would have got anywhere near 18 thousand in - unless they counted everyone in the bars - in Paddington.
Par for the course.
And those who were actually there, began streaming out of the ground at half-time.
With that silly 4.40pm start time again, for me, must say that whipping up a cheeky pancetta & portobello mushroom risotto took precedence over watching the last quarter on the crystal bucket.A tawdry affair that everyone very quickly became disinterestered in.
Not to worry.
Four points in the dilly bag.
Next!

SYDNEY: 7.1, 11.4, 16.9, 21.12 (138). Goals: Parker 3, Jack 3, Jetta 3, Kennedy 3, Walsh 2, Dennis-Lane 2, McGlynn 2, O'Keefe, Reid, Mattner
MELBOURNE: 0.3, 1.5, 2.7, 5.7 (37). Goals: Jones 2, Green, Sylvia, Bennell.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 20,818.

loose men everywhere

Voodooers,

What is it about Sydney and their quintessential hoo-doo ground?
Is it that, because of the hoo-doo, they play the match in their heads well before they even get to the ground, are their brains infested with the ghosts of great South Melbourne players past who they might mysteriously bump into on the paddock, are they haunted by the demons of that One Day in September in 2006, or perhaps they are fearful that the hallowed ground will simply open up and swallow them whole?
Who knows?
Inexplicable.
And that ground, of all grounds.
The Stats guru was quick to come up with the observation, that even though they don't play there that often in the regular season, in the last 15 games the Swans have appeared at the MCG, they've come away with one win and a draw.
Joisus.
Coming to think of it, it's very difficult to pinpoint the last game at the G in which they have played well since the Miracle Year.
Lost in the mists of time.
Wassup?
Or maybe its as simple as Mr Ed's 2012 coaching plan/modus operandi has been found out by opposition coaches after just five weeks.
The opening stanza being a classic case in point.
Richmond simply camped players on the best, most effective Sydney forwards - sat on them and closed them down completely - while not bothering much about the Swans defence, and leaving loose men everywhere in their own forward line.
It's a pretty simple game.
Certainly no rocket science involved.
And lets face it, there is no coming back from five goals-to-bugger all at quarter time, as you spend the rest of the match playing catchup football, which in the vast majority of cases in the Rules caper is a dead set lost cause, even if you win the Championship Quarter, as Sydney did, well, on this occasion.
Back to the drawing board, Horse.
The coach would have been forced to 'think again' as he sat by the magic waters at Bronte for Sunday morning smoko, gazing out beyond the horizon.
While Richmond had any number of candidates for Best on Ground, very hard to identify anyone who did any good for the Swans; JP Kennedy, again, perhaps, maybe, while Rhino and Son of Gary battled on gamely througout, but in truth, the Mothers Day fishwraps might as well have just inserted in the 'best' line in the Sydney scorebox 'all played poorly'.
It's probably time for a brief session in the Room Full Of Mirrors down on the Balmain Road, just in the faint hope that someone might by able to see the cause of the hoo-doo in their own refelection.
Perhaps they could take Brett Kirk dressed in some kind of kinky robe down there with them to do some mystical chanting, and light the incense.
Went to this game last year, and ended up having a most miserable weekend in Melbourne [cold wind, flat warm beer at the ground, barely defrosted pies, worst curry ever afterwards, being called a loser on a tram etc etc].
Lucky there was no enticement whatsoever to repeat the experience this time around.
And another thing.
It was fairly obvious - no Goodes Train - no cigar.
Tobacco freight disrupted indefinitely due to unexpected derailment.

RICHMOND: 5.6, 7.9, 8.11, 13.13 (91). Goals: Riewoldt 4, Grigg 3, Miller 2, Deledio, Martin, Maric, Conca.
SYDNEY: 0.2, 2.7, 6.9, 8.14 (62). Goals: Kennedy 2, Everitt, McGlynn, Hannebery, Grundy, Seaby, Dennis-Lane.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 40,352

Shock! Horror!
Against all expectations, the NSW selectors have at long last overcome their prejudices and actually picked The Best Leb In The Game at hooker for Stoush One v QLD.
What a turn up.
And about time.
Obviously, SC Sheens' public opinion on the matter has some clout.
Clearly, the selectors didn't want to stand accused by the Strayan coach of having "rocks in their heads".
If Farah is coached properly, as he was in the City v Country aka Probables v Possibles game, he'll do good.
If fact, if they base their initial platform on Robbie's dummy half work and kicking game, they'll go a long way.
And there's no doubt the bloke can learn a set play or two in a week and a half.
Never mind that Queensland, on paper, appear to be unbeatable.
If NSW don't believe they can win, then there's no point turning up.
We'll find out after the time honoured pie floater around at my place on Wednesday week.

WESTS TIGERS: Bye.