on the balance of things

Excitables,

The sandbagging worked a treat, just as it always would.
All bets are off when it comes down to business time.
[Still, couldn't believe the books installed the Crows as clear cut favourites. Fools! The smart east coast money had 'em for breakfast].
Just one win out of the last game of the year, to be sure.
Everything about it said the Football Dept had spent many many long hours pouring over the gin-soaked plans in the smoke-filled boardroom.
A very clever ruse by Coach Horse to pick Lewis "The Ugliest Man in Football" Roberts-Thompson in the forwards for much of the latter part of the season, only to then play him in the back pocket in this one.
LRT was told to go back and help out his old mate Teddy Richards, and they did a masterly job of just sitting on the football all day and restricting the opposition to, let's see, five goals all match.
Rhino Keefe with a bandaged head after being blood binned looked the battle-hardened part, while Son of Gary Jack was, as always, the point man through the mid-field - they might as well as given him a whistle to say 'kick it to me' as he ranged the ball down to full forward.
The Hannebery Kiddie just speaks for himself, week in week out, without saying a word.
Josh P Kennedy, of course, has been worth his weight in gold and had yet another sterling outing - would have been in the Brownlow votes yet again if any were on offer, which they weren't.
They're already in the dilly bag.
But perhaps, best of all, was that quintessential all-round club man Marty Matter giving his old club, who foolishly and most ungraciously let him go after he'd played 98 games for the Crows, the bird.
115 games later at Sydney, he's more than entitled and quite within in his rights, on the balance of things, to say to the Adelaide crowd "cop that! up yours!".
That must have been very sweet for a bloke who was very shabbily discarded, only to be swiftly rescued from the AFL dumpster by the Swans in trade week.
Seeing In Like McGlynn weeping on the bench after he'd done a hammy wasn't a particularly edifying sight, but suppose that hiding your humanity would be a bit difficult under the circumstances, knowing in yourself that you're gorn with a season-ender, and you won't be playing in the Grand Final; no cigar after such a year of solid hard work.
He was subbed off to Sick Bay with Mitch "Who?" Morton, the only Swans player in the match who'd not played in a final, and the only teenager on the ground.
Did well, and kicked two goals to boot!
The youngster must be thinking how lucky he is - talk about a saloon passage to a flag after playing but a handful of games in the Big Time - dragged in on the coat-tails of the greats.
As the Greater Western Pygmies will tell you, this is no place for boys - only grown men need apply.
To show just how good the Swans defence is, the Stats Guru was quick to point out that the Adelaide score of 5.12 was their lowest of the season, and the Crows worst score of any of their 27 finals appearances.
The Guru also mentioned that the Swans have been very busy through the mid-field and upfront, with only two players featuring in the list of the top 25 goal kickers at the end of the regular season.
And who are they?
Jetta and Goodes, and they're both well down that list.
Reckon those two fellas have found alchemy when they work so sweetly together.
Everything they've touched in recent weeks has turned to gold.
It was remarkable to see The Train outrun a couple of should-be speedier Crows players, as if he's found an extra leg in his old age, after losing a yard or two over the last couple of seasons.
The surgeon seems to have done a miracle job this time around.
The long and the short of it is everyone in the squad has seemingly kicked a goal or two through the year and the backline is nailed down flat.
It might not be spectacular, or even very pretty, but jeez, it's clinically effective.
It's neither here nor there who the Swans play in the Prelims.
West Coast, of course, would be most preferable - there's history going on with that mob, and they are, after all, one-all - and that would necessitate the Weagles making two, long road trips - across to the MCG this weekend to play the Pies, and then to Sydney the next, if they make it.
Collingwood hold no fears on the evidence of the last outing against them a few weeks back, but boy, it'd be a dour, miserable, low scoring affair that'd be almost completely devoid of spectacle.
So, cheer, cheer the Weagles.
What goes on in the other half of the draw doesn't really matter, either.
Fremantle go across the Nullabor, but stop halfway to the east coast, to play in Adelaide.
Whoever wins will then go to the MCG to be stomped on like ants by Hawthorn.
However, if you throw all form out the window and look at it askance, there are seemingly still no end of tasty possibilties in prospect - as one of my correspondents on the other side of the island transmitted "what about an all WA Grand Final, then?"
But, with the engineering and sandbagging that's been going on, it looks for all the world like a Swans v Hawks Grand Final has been pre-ordained.
In reality - which is a good place to be - just can't imagine any other match up, as, by rights, the two best teams in the comp should be meeting in the big dance.
That's how business time is usually arranged.
My Spy at the ground sent through a telegraph message close to the end of what up until that point had been a goal-less Championship Quarter "Crows are too busy beating themselves to win the game".
Yep, that's curtains.
Handling the week off during the pointy end of the season is always a tricky challenge for the Football Dept.
What do you do with them if they're not playing?
The curse of the finals bye has been well noted in the past, so it'd probably be best to roast a piglet over some slow burning charcoal and put on a keg for players as they put their feet up.
In athletics and swimming it's called tapering.
In footy, finding the key to that rest and relaxation, rather than being tired and emotional and playing the next game in your head over and over, can be elusive.
I'm sure Mr Ed would be telling them "don't let the nervous tension get to you, forget about football for a week, and just chill."
Everyone, take a deep breath.


SYDNEY: 2.2 7.2 8.4 11.5 (71). Goals: Goodes 3, Jetta 2, Morton 2, McGlynn, Kennedy, Parker, Reid.
ADELAIDE: 1.3 2.7 3.10 5.12 (42). Goals: Johncock, Callinan, van Berlo, Sloane, Walker.
At Football Park, Adelaide.
Crowd: 44,849.

Didn't go into the Front Bar at The Local on Mad Monday after the Mighty Tigers ignoble exit from the rugby league before the finals.
In fact, gave the joint a wide berth for a few days on account of the ridicule wasn't worth copping and in the full knowledge that everyone would soon forget that it ever happened.
No one ever remembers who didn't make September.
The Philosopher obviously looked like he'd lost all interest in football as he sat in his usual corner.
On approach, he lifted his head from the racing pages of the Daily Terror, pushed his glasses down to the tip of his nose and peered over this week's favoured tipple, a Russian Standard vodka and tonic in a highball with a twist of lemon, and said "at least the Swans are doing alright, aren't they?".
And then resumed his study of the Caulfield Cup weights.
Enough said.

two deaf mutes

Match Fixers,

Was it just my imagination, or was there some sandbagging going on here?
Sure looked like it, for mine.
The game was lost at three quarter time, and the portents were there much earlier.
Thinking the coaching staff at some stage would have issued the order "don't try, but whatever you do, don't look like you're not trying"
You only have to consider the fact that the scores were level early in the Championship Quarter, and then Geelong kicked eight goals to zip
Under normal circumstances, that would have required a Stewards Inquiry on suspicion of not running the horse out on its merits, but the favourite got up, the bookies weren't unhappy, and it was never contemplated.
Bob's your Uncle.
There was that kind of feeling that the Swans decided to throw the game after being outplayed fair and square in the first half.
They were at Kardinia Park after all, so why bother?
This might all be a conspiracy theory, but if it's not, and it's true, then it's very clever strategy.
On the face of it, the Swans have been found out by good teams three times in the past four weeks. which would be a worry for any other team, but what if they lost one or two of those on purpose?
Sure, they played Hawthron right down to the wire in a ding-dong fight to the finish just to show what they are made of, on account of the fact that the Hawks are the dead-set short-odds Premiership favourites and Sydney needed a yard stick to go by in what turned out to be the best contested game of the season so far.
If they haven't realised it by now, that'd make other teams sit up an notice.
But you have to wonder if the Collingwood game, even though the margin was a mere eight points in the finish, wasn't thrown as well.
Just look at how they gave up a healthy Champo quarter lead in that one, in a game that everyone said "they should have won".
It was as if Sydney did all they could to avoid winning the minor premiership after leading the comp for the best part of six weeks.
There would have been blokes down in the Football Dept. spinning the abacus in the first quarter, if not before the start of the game, knowing where the beads would settle, and saying: "look, there's no point playing real hard, the minor premiership is gone, and we can't finish second and with that goes the extra pressure of playing a home semi-final in week one, so we might as well finish third and go to Adelaide to play The Pretenders in the first week of the finals. That doesn't hold any fears for us, so let's just take the foot off the pedal, put the key players in cotton wool, finish with no injuries, and gear up for business time."
You know it makes sense.
In the grand scheme of things, the Swans are now in a position where they can field their best possible, fully fit, first-picked side for the finals.
Only now will they have their eyes on the prize.
They've closely studied the Hare-Clark-McIntyre-Duckworth-Lewis finals system, and deliberately engineered the best possible draw, avoiding all the good teams to start the pointy end of the season.
Brilliant!
And it's all been done with smoke and mirrors so that no-one really notices.
Let's face it, they are two games out of the Grand Final, if they want it, and at the very least, have the double chance, that's unlikely to go unused.
Smart, smart, smart, Coach Horse.
The most entertaining thing about the match was that there was no love lost between the two sides.
They hate each other.
Thought Reg Grundy going down to the Tribunal to argue what little case he had was a bit cheeky, given that he put a good forearm jolt plus an elbow don't argue to finish to the chin of the Podsiadly - who no doubt deserved it - but rules is rules.
So, he's rubbed out for a week?
No matter.
Lets just hope that sort of uncompromising attitude continues on into September.
They'll need it.

GEELONG: 4.3 7.5 12.7 17.10 (112). Goals: Hawkins 4, Podsiadly 3, Chapman 3, Christensen, Mackie, Bartel, Duncan, Vardy, Johnson, Lonergan/
SYDNEY: 4.5 5.8 7.12 11.12 (78). Goals: Goodes 2, McVeigh 2, McGlynn, Bolton, Kennedy, Jack, O'Keefe, Mumford, Walsh.
At Kardinia Park.
Crowd: 20,045.


Mad Monday of course came far too early.
Not surprised when we walked into Leichhardt Oval on Saturday night and found it not overly busy.
There weren't that many people in the scramble up Heartbreak Hill from the Parramatta River to the Mary St entrance, apart from a few old folk like us who huffed and puffed their way up and said to each other "it doesn't get any easier does it?"
It was clear early on that without the Best Leb In The Game in the engine room, the Mighty Tiges are a disorganised shambles.
Down 6-10 at half time, they were still in with a theoretical chance at victory, but on the evidence of the first half, everyone at the ground knew that the game was up, and all hope was lost.
It's never nice to see your side completely clueless at home.
Never mind that Balmain came into the match still, after interminable weeks of hanging on by the skin of their teeth, in with a mathematical chance of finishing 8th.
All they needed to do was beat Melbourne by more than 14 points, and then rely on the hapless NZ Warriors beating the inform Canberra who were coming home with a wet sail.
Needless to say, it never looked likely, neither of those things happened, and the Tigers ended up finishing the regular season in 10th.
Joisus, Mary & Joseph.
What a miserable season it panned out to be, after one that held so much promise with the mid-season purple patch, only to be cruelled by injury.
Even though they had a basketful of excuses, The Great Benji on interview after the game, as the stand-in skipper, couldn't hide his humanity and his bitter disappointment, but was sensible enough just to say and leave it at "we only have ourselves to blame".
At half time went around to the Norman "Latchem" Robinson Stand to strain the potatoes in the expansive urinals under the stand, and then go out the back to blow a number amongst the dumpsters.
A rather dishevelled Tigers fan stumbled out of the dunnies with a wild look in his eyes and botted me for a smoke.
The conversation went something like this:
"Aw mate, can I get a fag off you? I've just been in a fight, and the bastard broke me flag", evidenced by the fact that he cast his Balmaim flag attached to a stick of dowell that had been busted in the middle onto the ground in a desultory fashion.
"Jesus! Where did that happen?"
"Just in there, in the dunnies there."
"Why? Was it a Melbourne fan?"
"Nah mate, he was one of us, a Tigers supporter"
"Bloody hell. You idiot, Why did you do that?".
"He was bagging Benji Marshall really loudly at the urinal, and I can't stand anyone bagging out My Benji, so I decided to go him"
"What happened?"
"Well, it wasn't a fight really, I just wrestled the prick to the floor, on the tiles there, and thought about giving him a couple, but didn't want to get into any trouble, so I didn't, even though the arsehole still broke my flag", and then launched into an apologia "Look at me. I'm not a fighter. But I was a high school wrestling champion in my time".
From there on in he just started jibbering about the Glorious Olden Days, rattling off the names of some of the great players of the 80's, and wondered if anyone remembered them anymore, and then launched into an apologia "Look at
The bloke was clearly unhinged.
Asked him about how he came to be a Balmain fan, telling him that my fandom began on moving to Sydney almost 30 year ago.
"I've never lived here", he said, but then failed to explain how he got his obviously ardent attachment to the Tigers.
"I live in Orange. I've lived there all me life, mate. I come down for all the Leichhardt Oval games every year, and I get usually get to the Parramatta and Penrith away games too. I love Leichhardt".
Takes all types.
Took my leave, and went back to re-join the Good Lady Wife in the bucket seat next to mine.
Must say that the new bank of seating they've installed on the small terrace which runs along the length of the ground below the mighty imposing Hill.
It's raked back in only five rows from the touch line.
They are the best seats in the house.
It would have cost them next to nothing to put them in, but it is a welcome long overdue improvement for a heritage ground that has never boasted first class spectator facilities, given that 80% of the crowd have always been, and still are, accomodated in standing room.
We were parked three rows back right on the southern 20 metre line, and when you are that close in that kind of man-made ampitheatre, you are for all intents and purposes right there in amongst the action.
When it's an uneventful passage of play and the crowd is quiet you can literally see the grunting grimmace on the player's faces and hear the thwacks as they are relentlessly crunch each other in the tackle.
Magnificent!
That Pom Ellis did nothing in his last game after four years at Leichhardt.
Why kill yourself to bring down the curtain on a short but outstanding career in the No.1 grade?
Rest on your laurels and take the plaudits on retirement is obviously the only way to go, son.
Vale Gareth, you've been a credit to the club and an ornament to the game.
SC Sheens didn't pull any punches on interview after the match, saying he would take full responsibilty for the debacle of a season and walk, if the Club Sectretary asked him to.
Said he'd go quietly if he got the tap on the shoulder, adding that that was up to The Board, and not something he had any control over.
Shrugged his shoulders and said "that's football. we'll see what happens".
Not about to fall on his sword, but you get the feeling that St Tim wouldn't mind getting the chop, even if only for the sake of his own sanity and general well being.
With the aim of getting a quick get away at full-time, we watched the last ten minutes of the match from directly behind the Melbourne in-goal, out the back of the disabled reserve where they put all the people in wheelchairs.
Felt right at home.
Wondered why the two blokes standing in front of us - who were well dressed in smart-casual with no signs of allegiance - weren't screaming and yelling like everyone else, but then spyed them signing each other, and realised that they were deaf mutes.
Even though they couldn't hear the full-time hooter at the denoument, they knew it was game over, season over, and waved goodbye to everyone around them in a jolly fashion and then left the ground, silently.
There was simply nothing more to say.
Rather apt, really.

WESTS TIGERS 6. Tries: Marshall. Goals Marshall (1).
MELBOURNE STORM 26. Tries: Hoffman, Manu, Norrie, Proctor, Waqa. Goals: Smith (3).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 10,834.

if it wasn't for the partisanship

Loyalists,

Shit happens.
Fancy holding the best attacking team in the comp goalless in the opening stanza, and then giving up a 27 point quarter time lead to be leading by bugger all at half time?
Those sorts of things happen when you play against really good sides who refuse to lie down.
Some good lessons to be learnt from that at the pointy end of the season.
Something to do with keeping the jackboot on the neck and then twisting the jugular.
And there were a couple of worrying signs.
The Great Train had his best game since his comeback from injury, even though his kicking options weren't the best at times, while the New Train, the Jetta Kiddie, had his worst game of the season.
Hawthorn sorted him from the off with a very tight tag.
Not hard to coach that.
JP Kennedy was once again Best on Ground, doing my not inconsiderable each-way punt on him to win the Brownlow at between 22/1 and 25/1 no harm at all.
Rhino, the Hannebery Kiddie and Son of Gary all had their usual exemplary games, while the beared wonders in Rick Shaw and Master Malceski dug deep and put in.
But the Ugliest Man in Football had an inexplicable shocker - LRT just couldn't get involved or do anything right - and was subbed off at three quarter time in favour of Mitch "Who" Morton.
You really do need to have all 18 players on the ground footballing out of their minds to win these kind of matches.
Can't afford to carry any passengers steaming into September.
The "Best" line in the scorebox in the Monday morning fishwraps must read "All played well".
The Swans have specialised in it all season, so now is not the time for a few blokes to have off games
That said, if it wasn't for the partisanship involved, it would have to go down as one of the very best games of the season
Sydney were right in it until the final minute or two, but it's the second time they've lost by agonisingly small margins in recent weeks.
These two teams are very much looking like Grand Finalists, for mine.
Adelaide will probably go top in the grand scheme of things, but look to be pretenders on the dint of their luxury draw and are likely to be found out some time during the finals, Collingwood are very good and certainly know how to play in the big games but appear to be bit flaky, just like the Swans. when the blowtorch is applied to the belly, while West Coast have the best home ground advantage of anyone and may well be the smokies in this.
Geelong, Fremantle and North Melboure can pretty much go suit themselves.
As always, it came down to the Championship Quarter, but as it happened that didn't decide the issue for once.
Glad the the Good Lady Wife reached for the top shelf at three quarter time and shook some top qual heart pills out of the bottle for me.
With the eventual seven lead changes in the final quarter, a big time coronary was a certainty for this idle spectator without them.
Coach Horse was ambivalent about it, simply noting that it was a marvellous test for both sides with Business Time just around the corner, in the full knowledge that the Swans could finish anywhere between 1st and 4th in the denoument.
So they must just bloody well win at that hell-hole known as Kardinia Park, simple as that.
But, it is yet another hoo-doo ground for Sydney, and there is a bad feeling in my water.
You only have to go back to that completely miserable experience there all of five years ago now, the first and last ever, to realise why:
http://crazycraves.blogspot.com.au/2007/06/stroll-in-kardinia-park.html
http://crazycraves.blogspot.com.au/2007/07/pontiffs-seed-is-strong.html
The Cardiac Kids should go well from here on in, safe in the knowledge that it doesn't matter how much you win the Grand Final by.
A Bloody Point will do.

SYDNEY: 4.3, 8.5, 10.7, 14.11 (95). Goals: Reid 2, Mumford 2, Goodes 2, O'Keefe 2, Jack, McGlynn, Malceski, Roberts-Thomson, McVeigh, Kennedy
HAWTHORN: 0.1, 7.6, 10.11, 15.12 (102). Goals: Franklin 4, Burgoyne 3, Puopolo 2, Suckling 2, Gunston, Smith, Shiels, Sewell
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 31, 167.

Appalling, just appalling.
Happened to be in the Back Bar at The Local with the Good Lady Wife enjoying the cheap and cheerful combination chow mein as the Tigers slumped to a quite ridiculous scoreline of 0-26 at half time.
We had another function to go to after the game, but she kindly offered me an out on the hooter for the break with "you can go home and have good cry if you like"
Declined, but still found myself tired and emotional later in the evening.
All hope was lost, there and then.
Bugger.
With the Best Leb in The Game in Sick Bay for the rest of the season, there was never any direction in attack as no one could decide who would run the engine room in his absence
The defence was utterly hopeless as Tigers defenders slipped off would-be tackles as easily as taking the skin off a rice pudding, as the Chooks shrugged them off, and ran them ragged all the way to the try line.
Every time we looked up from our lunch plates it seemed the Roosters had gone in for another four pointer, again.
Joisus.
It was hard to fathom what was going on
If Easts aren't running stone motherless last in the comp then they should be, on their season effort to date, and yet they easily towelled up the team who were touted as early premiership favourites at the start of the season solely on the strength of their roster.
No-one dreamed that they would have so many injuries that the Rehab Dept would be overwhelmed to breaking point.
Gawd knows, Benji Marshall tried is damnest and with his last goal of the game scored his 1000th point in the caper, but without his partner in crime Farah, none of the set plays came off, and his imagination when it comes to improvised play is beyond most of his team mates, without Farah's translation.
My spy at the ground somehow managed to wander into the dressing room press conference afterwards and told me he saw the Great Benji, in his role as acting captain on interview alongside SC Sheens.
He said they both said something about "execution" being the major problem.
He laughed heartily, and sent through the telegraph message in jest, suggesting that Tigers fans would be building the gallows at Leichhardt for the summary executions that would be a feature of the full-time entertainment in what will almost certainly be the last game of season.
There's been some scurrilous idle chatter in the more disreputable fishwraps suggesting that SC Sheens could well be on shaky ground
The raison d’être being that St Tim has taken the Tigers to the finals just three times in 15 years...mind you they did win the Grand Final in '05, but the bloke has been trading on that ever since, no doubt.
The board tried to put in a performance assessment team a couple of years back, but SC Sheens would have nothing of it, and instead threatened to walk, and demanded a new contract, which was signed on the back of a napkin in some cafe in Chiswick, if memory serves me right.
Sheens is the sort of bloke who will sack himself before anyone comes along with the tap of the shoulder.
The Great Chris "Bludnut" Heighington played his 200th game, a fair rarity in this football code.
It wasn't his best in the double hundred.
However, he will long be revered as the consumate club man, having played all of them for Balmain.
Now there's a bloke who gets picked week in week out, never draws attention to himself, and just goes about doing his job, no questions asked.
Well known for doing the hard yards and not expecting any thanks for it.
Was admitted to the Balmain Pantheon a while ago now, at the rank of loyal servant to the game.
Few have been better or more consistent in any pack of forwards.
The Club Secretary would be a mass of quivering nerve endings as he spins about on his swivel office chair trying not to look at the stark numbers on the abacus in front of him.
Balmain are now down into what's euphemistically called the "mathematical chance".
i.e. they have to beat Melbourne straight out and rely on the hapless Chocolate Soldiers to pull off a highly unlikely win, and what's more, they'll know that result almost a full 24 hours before they play.
So it'll be all, or nothing.
If you were a betting man, you'd have to favour the dead rubber.
While gate recpiets haven't suffered much in the back half of the season due to the extraordinary number of loyalists out there, the prospect of losing the generous coin that comes with finals appearances would be weighing heavily on his mind, given that he will just about have to empty the coffers in the off season buying less injury prone players.
He'd be happy that we have taken up his offer of upgrading from bronze general admission membership to a silver seat in the new bucket chairs they've installed on the eastern concourse at Leichhardt Oval for the last game of the season.
From there you'd be looking directly into the afternoon sun, so good thing it is a Saturday night game.
Don't expect that it'll be very busy.
It'll be grand, though, to farewell That Pom Ellis in person; one of the last of the great hardmen plays his final game for the Tigers on account of Gareth has decided to go home to the dark satanic mills where he was born and finish his career playing for the pension in the Lancashire and Yorkshire League.
A club stalwart and an ornament to the game who's now been admitted to the Balmain Pantheon.
Not the only Pom to be so honoured.
Think Keith Barnes, Garry Schofield, and Ellery "The Black Pearl" Hanley.
For some unknown reason, returned to The Local on Sunday morning, just for a very quiet one in The Front Bar.
The Philosopher was in his usual corner, nursing this week's favoured tipple, a drink that he says he's invented himself, which he calls a "Cat's Arsehole": a jigger of vodka and the same of triple-sec, poured over ice in a high ball, and topped up with grapefruit juice.
He ordered me one and fixed me with his bead and watched me purse my lips and said "ah ha! appropriate for this time of year, don't you think?"

SYDNEY ROOSTERS 44. Tries: Tupou (3), Nuuausala, Kenny-Dowall, Moga, Pearce, Minichiello. Goals: Anasta (6).
WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Koroibete, Lawrence, Heighington, Murdoch-Masila. Goals: Marshall (2).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 15,736

robbed blind

Pyschoanalysts,

Robbed blind.
A more disgraceful and deplorable display by legally blind umpires with only a fleeting acquaintence with the rule book has not been seen all season, in any code.
The incompetance of rugby league referees knows no bounds, it seems.
Never mind that the Bulldogs were playing from an off-side position all day in defence, there were some plain shocking decisions in the in-goal.
Take the Robbie Farah try for the Tigers that the Bamford ruled as "held-up" but then sent it upstairs to be reviewed by the idiot in the video referee's box, who couldn't made up his mind, so sent it back to the ref, who then upheld his own original decision.
What the?
Farah fumed and went up to the Bamford and said "Look, mate. I put that ball down. One thousand percent".
In a brazen admission of utter failure to do his job, the Bamford replied "I can't pay what I can't see".
Lord, save us.
And then there was the last 'try' of the match awarded to the Bulldogs, who clearly had a player run around one of his own players to deliberately obstruct the defence.
The rule book says that that's not allowed, under any circumstances.
The ref, bewlinderingly, awarded the try, but again sent it upstairs for some kind of confirmation/justification, where it was ruled "defender not impeded", quote unquote.
What the?
My spy at the ground tells me the Tigers fans who were brave enough, or some say, foolish enough to attend a Bulldogs home game [the class Canterbury supporters regularly get into fights and trash trains from Olympic Park when they lose] went absolutely ape-shit and there would have been a riot if the match had been played at somewhere like Leichhardt.
Lord save us.
The Best Leb in The Game, with his Captain's hat on, was so livid he started screaming into the Bamford's face at point-blank range "tell me! tell me! tell me how that wasn't a sheperd?! Even Blind Freddie could see it was obstruction!".
With his eyes spinning around on their stalks and steam coming from his ears, thought for moment that Farah going to grab the Bamford by the scruff of his neck and snot the fool.
Farah was promptly banned by the club's Football Dept from making his customary appearance at the post-match press conference as he would have just exploded and had a melt down.
SC Sheens was more circumspect afterwards saying he felt "hard done by" and would be having a quiet chat with the Bamford's boss on the Monday morning.
So the full time score should have been at least Balmain 26 Canterbury 18, but, oh, no siree...that's not what the scoreboard said, and as we all know, they scoreboard doesn't lie, nor does it account for criminal acts of highway robbery.
As you might have guessed, nothing gets on my goat more than stubbornly stupid buffoons masquerading as officialdom.
Maxwell & Cummins, we know who you are.
Farah would have also been very filthy with himself for fluffing the first chance at field goal in extra time from good field position, when he set the set-play too deep, found himself cramped for room, and the ball scooted off the boot and under the cross bar.
Inu, in the last minute of extra time, potted a hail-mary long-shot to snatch victory for Canterbury from the jaws of an extra-time draw.
Joisus.
SC Sheens did what he does best, and stated the bleedin' obvious on interview after the game: "We needed to score one point. We didn't score one point. So we lost".
A Bloody Point, eh?
In this week's minor miracle, Balmain again somehow manage to cling on by the skin of their teeth to 8th spot on the ladder at 11 wins/11losses with two to play, but the real shame of it is they are just now coming into some hardened late season genuine form with the forwards back in harness and the backs finding their mojo again, and would have given September a real shake if they were higher up on the ladder.
But it's season over now, for mine, after the shocking news that came through on the Sunday morning that Farah had been to the hospital complaining of a sore mit, and the x-rays confirmed that he'd picked up a season-ending busted hand.
To lose one of your marquee players at this stage of the year, especially the one who drives the engine room, makes it curtains, surely?
It's cruel game, rugby league.
It's becoming close to unbearable living in the heart of the Canterbury-Bankstown district now that the Bulldogs have won their 12th straight game and will easily pick up the JJ Giltinan Shield for the minor premiership - what with blue and white flags poking out of souped-up car windows, doof-doof, and various mongs and dingbats wandering about the streets aimlessly, dressed in full Canterbury Bulldogs kit.
Sick-making.

CANTERBURY-BANKSTOWN BULLDOGS 23. Tries: Barba, Reynolds, Tolman, Wright. Goals: Inu (3). Field Goals: Inu (1).
WESTS TIGERS 22. Tries: Koroibete (2), Marshall, Woods. Goals: Marshall (3).
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 29,194.


Who would've thought, as we get down to business time?
Fancy that...the Swans kick 26 goals...that featured 14 different goal kickers for only the second time in the club's history, including some bloke called Morton.
Morton?
Who's Morton?
Even at an unlikely 3-6 goals down at quarter time, it was clear that a Swans win was never in doubt as they were always going to kick a cricket score against a team that's done nothing all year.
It was terribly nice of those pretenders Adelaide and Collingwood to lose games they were expected to win easily to hand back top spot to Sydney, with a win in hand and a better percentage, and two games to play.
Thank you very much.
The Stats Guru was quick to point out Sydney/South Melbourne have equalled the club record set back in 1945 for most number of games won in a season at 16 [with the caveat that South went down to Carlton by a handy margin in that year's Grand Final; a match that was apparently characterised by "extreme on-field violence". Sounds like it was just one long brawl. Pity those days, when punters would walk for miles and pay a hefty admission fee just to see that sort of thing, have gone away].
Swans have also won more Championship Quarters than any other team this season, which just goes to confirm the critical importance of the third stanza.
Of course the strength through the spine was where it was won again, and some students of the game are now talking up the prospect of the entire Swans mid-field being picked holus-bolus in this years All-Australian team [now there's a very curious institution. It must be the only instance in any sport in the world where a national team is selected, but doesn't play a game against anyone, because there is no-one to play].
Special mention should be made of that Canadian rugby union player Mike Pyke.
It's only taken him a couple of years, but it now appears that he's got the hang of this caper, long after most clubs would have given up on persevering with him.
As Mr Ed says of The Pantsman "his ability to listen and learn is second to none".
Had a blinder in the ruck, squashed anyone they cared to put on him, and kicked three through the big sticks to boot, until he was subbed out of the game with a hobble, and replaced by the mystery that is Mitch Morton.
Again, Mitch who?
Coach Horse dismissed the result out of hand on interview after the game, saying it signified nothing and even professed to having no interest in winning the minor premiership: "all we are focussed on is beating really good sides, like the two really good sides that we have to play in the next two weeks".
Very interesting that the rugby league match in Sydney had a bigger crowd than the Australian Rules match in Melbourne by a fair way, for most likely the first time this season.
The Western Bulldogs obviously have no supporters, as there were a lot of South fans in - as far as you can tell on the telly - while support for the Canterbury-Bankstown Bulldogs is going through the roof, and Balmain Tigers fans travel, and are everywhere.
Maybe that's why Channel Nine coughed up a lazy billion for the rugby league TV rights mid-week.
Who knows?
But you would have thought people who shell out that many beans know what they are buying.
Let's face it, in terms of the pure entertainment factor, the rugby league has a lot more going for it on the crystal bucket than the Rules does.
The league game is over in a guaranteed 80 minutes plus ten minutes for half time, as opposed to the Rules game which is always a long, drawn-out affair where the result is often decided well before the thing finally ends after the best part of three hours.
And the Rules is definitely not made for television as the machine fails by its very nature to capture any more than half of what's going on as it shows virtually none of the leading for marks, the positional play, the jostling and general carry-on behind play that's all intrinsic to the game and that you can only see when you are at the ground [once knew a television camerman who worked on the AFL live coverage for a full two seasons before he realised the teams changed ends after every quarter - his sole purpose in life was to keep the ball in the dead set centre of the shot every time].
In stark contrast, 100% of the league game is up there on the screen for all to see.
Little wonder, with everyone belatedly crowding onto the band wagon, this weekend's blockbuster against Hawthorn at the building site that is the SCG with a considerably reduced capacity was sold-out three weeks ago.
Win that, and the minor premiership is in the dilly bag and everyone else can go suit themselves.


WESTERN BULLDOGS: 6.2, 8.3, 11.5, 13.7 (85). Goals: Addison 4, Dickson 3, Giansiracusa 2, Lake, Cordy, Picken, Johannisen
SYDNEY: 3.2, 10.5, 16.9, 26.11 (167). Goals: Pyke 3, Roberts-Thomson 3, Goodes 3, Mumford 3, McGlynn 2, Reid 2, O'Keefe 2, Hannebery 2, Jack, Parker, Morton, McVeigh, Kennedy, Jetta.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 19,396.

two football teams...

Meteorologists,

A tremendous wind storm blew up on Friday with the fearsome breeze gusting at 100+kph and causing havoc at Kingsford Smith Airport just across the way; it was enough to rip a panel of fibro off the back of Dad's Shed and smash it to simthereens, and send the ol' fashioned radio set crashing to the floor [old technology - it survived].
Never mind the wind chill factor.
The tempest was no better on match day, when you could also add into the mix sleeting, sheeting, horizontal showers.
The day after, as the Swans braved the magic waters at Bronte and the coaching staff enjoyed Sunday morning smoko in their anoraks and ear-muffs, the boffins down the bureau declared it to be the coldest August day in the Emerald City in ten years.
Like, that's a decade.
Something's going on?
Under the circumstances, rather glad that good seats were unobtainable, as anyone who was in any way lame or infirm and was fool enough to go to the ground, would have most likely been carted off to the hospital, there to die of exposure.
Even the kind offer of a free ticket on the morning of the match was not enough to entice me to tempt fate and catch my death.
In any case, there were two football teams at Cathy Freeman Stadium on Saturday night - but only team one tried to play football.
Collingwood were simply hell-bent on strangling the game to death, by just sitting on the football, closing down any hint of attack, and then hoping for the best.
A very cynical strategy from the Black & White Bastards, for mine, which has nothing to recommend it, but after all, Collingwood will always suit themselves and say "well, hey, it worked, didn't it?"
Their meagre goal tally all came from snap shots on the pivot inside the 50, or miracle long bombs outside, virtually not a one from a set shot.
God forbid if these two teams meet in the Grand Final.
The spectacle, the colour and movement, any charisma, or "wow" factor will be left at the Grand Final breakfast, in favour of a grubby, hard-scrabble game of football in the afternoon.
Very hard to pick a Best on Ground given that no one, on either side, was allowed to shine or stand out in such a dour, lack-lustre affair.
The Bamfords probably dropped some pieces of paper with some names on them into a hat and pulled out the Brownlow votes at random.
JP Kennedy would have been one name.
Did himself no harm in the lottery.
It's inexplicable how the Swans seem to go weak at the knees at the mere mention of the name Collingwood as if it was a synonym of the boogy-man; an 11 game losing streak against the Pies is some kind of hoo-doo, to be sure.
And, by rights, Sydney should have won.
As my spy at the ground telegraphed through at the denoument "bad kicking is bad football, as Wally May used to say" after the Swans squandered any number of chances in front of goal.
Coach Horse didn't have much to say on interview after the match, but did remind the press that the Swans were only two points behind with a few minutes to go.
No mention of blowing a 17 point lead in the Championship Quarter.
Yeah, well, most times you'd give them the benefit of the doubt and say near enough is good enough is fair enough, except in this case near enough was clearly not good enough.
Now things get interesting if you take the abacus out and spin the beads.
Adelaide must now be odds on faves to take the minor premiership with a soft-as-a-pillow draw in the last three games.
Especially when Collingwood, Sydney, West Coast and Hawthorn all come up against at least one or the other in the run home.
Can't see Sydney finishing top unless they win all three; lose one and they'll stil be thereabouts, but lose all three and even the top four is in peril.
Note that certain loud mouthed individuals [no names, no pack drill, Mick Malthouse] have been whinging in the fishwraps about the Crows supremely advantageous draw, having played GWS, Gold Coast, and Port - twice.
Not to mention Sydney also playing the Pygmies twice, as a matter of course.
But as my Correspondent in The Sou'Strayan Provinces writes:
"The AFL made this problem for themseleves as soon as they expanded beyond 12 teams and have done nothing to address it, and they only complain when they find out two out-of-town teams are on top".
The upshot of his ensuing argument being that Victorians will always be Victorians.
Us Colonials will take all the ladder positions we can get, thank you.
See you in September.

SYDNEY: 1.3, 4.7, 8.11, 9.16 (70). Goals: Roberts-Thomson 2, Goodes, McGlynn, Bird, Kennedy, Pyke, O'Keefe, Dennis-Lane.
COLLINGWOOD: 3.2, 5.4, 9.4, 12.6 (78), Goals: Beams 3, Cloke 3, Didak, Fasolo, Thomas, Blair, Seedsman, Wellingham.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 45,827.

Ah, Timmy Moltzen.
You've got to hand it to him.
After notoriously breaking a deal to transfer to St George [who had his signature signed sealed and delived on a contract] this season and doing an about face to stay at the Tigers via some complex series of negotiations and transactions, he comes back to bite the Sainters on the arse with a hat-trick of tries for Balmain!
As you can well imagine, Dragons fans were most unhappy about it and didn't hold back on making their views known at the ground.
Nice one, Timmy.
Didn't see a frame of this match live as it was played simultaneously with the Swans across town, but my spy at the ground suggested that The Great Benji had his best game all year with the famous trademark jink, the step, the whirly-gig all on display, only confirmed by the newsreel.
Few sides do second halves better, probably because they are among the fittest teams in the comp after they are thrashed week in week out on the training track, but there are some who complain that the long list of players in the Sick Bay could be a result of being "over-trained".
Who knows?
SC Sheens didn't think much of it, drily noting on interview after the game "the defence was an improve on last week", noting "it was good of them to come back from 0-8 in such atrocious conditions" but then pretty much limited his comments to "that's the kind of win we need".
Indeed.
The coach, surely, must be thinking about what kind of team he can turn out on the park in the finals in they get there with a few due to come off the Injured Player's Fund.
Even Lote "What'd I do, Guv?" Tuqiri is getting sick of living the Lote life with a broken arm, and is talking about a comeback if the Tigers get "deep into September", although you'd think they'd be very relucant to play him with no match fitness in the only games that really matter.
Needless to say it gets harder and harder to climb up the ladder towards the pointy end of the season.
The Tiger's cling on tenaciously to eighth spot on the table and the chasing pack is starting to thin out, but they don't have the easiest run home - up against 1st, 14th, and 2nd in the remaining minor round games.
You'd have to think they need to win a minimum of two of those to make September, so there is no shortage of tight-rope walking to come.
Popped down to the newsagent on Sunday morning for the ritual pulping of my Lotto ticket, and popped my head into the Front Bar at The Local just across the street.
The Brown Brothers were very sheepish, after their Worriers were relentlessly flogged by the Cowboys, to end all hope.
To their credit, the Kiwis' openly acknowledged that they were the classic roosters turned into feather dusters, going from beaten Grand Finalists last year to having no chance of making the finals with 3 games to play this year.
Whappen? They said, sadly.
Couldn't bring myself to drink their beer despite their urgings, and left them to drown their own sorrows.
The Philosopher was in his usual corner, nursing this week's favoured tipple, a Manhattan prepared with Canadian Club on ice in a lowball.
While lamenting that the absinthe behind the bar was unaffordable, he flipped his fishwrap over onto the back page, and vigourously jabbed his finger at the picture of The Great Benji in full flight, offering "where there's life, there's hope".

WESTS TIGERS 22. Tries: Moltzen (3), Fulton. Goals: Marshall (3).
ST GEORGE-ILLAWARRA DRAGONS 12. Tries: Morris (2), Rein.
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 10,546.

pure insanity

Scholars of The Game,

We're playing with the edges of history here.
The Stats Guru was quick to point out that South has never won nine on the trot since they were uprooted and transplanted in Sydney all those years ago, and you have to go back to the 1926 and 1934 seasons to find the previous instances.
So now this is becoming a thing well beyond living memory.
Ominously, though, South failed to make the finals at all in '26, and were beaten by Richmond by a handy margin in the '34 Grand Final.
Ooops.
At least the buffoons in the television commentary got it right for once when pondering how the Swans had got to the top of the table and stayed there for so long, saying "well, they are pretty close to the perfect football unit".
You can attach all the superlatives you like to this team, but that just about sums it up.
Too strong, too smart, too well coached.
While you could have given Best on Ground to anyone in the mid-field...think...Son of Gary, Odd Head, The Hannebery Kiddie, In Like, Smiffy...it should have gone to Teddy Richards, for mine; had a superb game in the backline, bobbed up everywhere all the time and single-handedly closed down any attacking threat the Blues might have posed.
And it was interesting to see The Goodes Train and The Fast Train in the Jetta Kiddie working in concert across the middle of the park.
The coaching staff has at last realised that they have some unspoken telepathy going on, where they instinctively know what the other is about to do.
Very pleasing to see The Great Rhino Keefe - one of the last of the great hard-nuts - play in his 250th.
Asked in a pre-match profile interview what he thought of his career, he just said "I am very lucky and priviledged to have been able to live this lifestyle for the past 13 years".
An ornament to the game, you do get the impression that Rhino knows how to live the life.
The Great Bolts will be out for a few weeks after doing a knee, but it appears he'll come back just in time to play his 300th in the Grand Final.
Timing.
The Bamfords had a routinely poor game, but the bad decisions cancelled each other out in the end.
There was a most unusual indcident, when a Bamford was mysteriously subbed out of the game at quarter-time, as he couldn't go on, and was replaced by the Reserve Umpire.
No explanation as to what happened was forthcoming, so maybe he just did a Johnny Briggs and had a nervous breakdown and was conveyed in a straight jacket to the nearest lunatic asylum.
Spotted a nice banner in the Dockland's mix that just read:
REG IS OUR EDGE
A nice nod to another of those unsung heroes, Reg Grundy.
Mr Ed, pressured by the press to speculate on the future rather than be in the place he prefers - the present - demured and offered "our challenge is to see if we've improved enough to get over a terrific side like Collingwood".
So he is thinking about the prospect of the double purple patch after all.
With J.Bolton out, Collingwood have done the Swans a huge favour by suspending Dane Swan for two matches after the fool turned up for training after a night on the drink.
Wouldn't you know it?
After having trouble attacting a decent sized crowd all year, suddenly everyone is on the bandwagon.
As the Good Lady Wife noted, Sydney's notoriously fickle fair-weather fans strike again.
Decent tickets to this Saturday night's Blockbuster at The Bush are unobtainable.
As of first thing Monday morning, general admission tickets were sold out, and the remaining Silver and Gold seats were way way up in the gods with stratospheric prices to match.
With the way my ageing eyesight is, from up there in the Olympic Stadium, wouldn't be able to see a thing, let alone make out the number plates on the player's backs.
Oh well, that's what you get for loyalty.
Just have to wait for the finals to get tickets, when it's first come first served to pay through the nose.
Let's hope there's a glitch in the catering and the Pies are off.
Will just have to watch it on the telly from a comfortable lounge in front of a warm fire and spend the price of admission on some fine Champagne instead.
Damn.

CARLTON: 3.1, 5.3, 6.6, 10.11 (71). Goals: Waite 3, Armfield 2, Garlett 2, Gibbs, Casboult, Murphy.
SYDNEY: 4.4, 8.6, 11.8, 14.9 (93). Goals: McGlynn 3, Hannebery 2, Roberts-Thomson 2, Goodes, Bird, McVeigh, Jack, Jetta, Malceski, Mumford.
At Docklands Stadium.
Crowd: 39,942.

How bizzare, how bizzare.
Without doubt the most utterly ridiculous game of football played all year, in any code.
On a quiet night at the Olympics, found myself pottering about down in Dad's Shed with the loopy MMM call on the old fashioned radio-set in the corner.
Rather taken aback by the Tigers being down 6-22 after no more than ten minutes, and that was enough to get the healthy Monday night crowd out at Campbelltown pretty antsy, given the home side had been gifted a brace of penalties.
WTF?
If you can't beat the team running stone motherless last, you might as well pack up your boots and balls and go home.
The match then degenerated into a touch football game played by girls in some suburban park somewhere, as both sides took full advantage of the non existant defence.
Razzle dazzle football it may well have been, but that's not what the punters come to see at this time of year -- they want tough and dour.
No surprise to see Balmain go in 18-22 behind at half-time, but it was only a matter of time until the floodgates really opened up wide.
In the end the Tigers came right over the top of them like a tsunami, scoring the last 45 points to 4.
Repeat, WTF???
Supercoach Sheens expressed his frustration at being unable to explain exactly what went on, and who could blame him, sayng little more than the bleedin' obvious..."I was very disappointed with the defence".
The Best Leb in the Game, with his Captain's hat on, put a finer point on it..."We just didn't want to tackle, we were just lucky they didn't want to tackle either".
77 points all up in an 80 minute game, is pretty much a point a minute in anyone's language.
And the new kid on the block who no one's ever heard of, the Fijian kid called Marika Koroibete - in only his second top grade game - scored not one, not two, not three, but four tries in the second half alone.
Pure insanity.
Needless to say the feat equalled the club record.
But Parramatta - who must have forgotten that the ground exists having not played there since 1999 - were always prime targets to be beaten at their own game after the break.
The Bamfords had real trouble keeping up with it all, and blew the whistle too much if only to try to slow the whole thing down, but the unintended consequence was giving both sides even more opportunity's to score.
The radio call could barely keep pace.
While the Great Benji scooped the various Man of the Match awards, it should have gone to The Great Heighington for mine, for his sheer work rate alone.
A shuffle of players through the backline is a SC Sheens trademark move late in the season as he looks to settle on finals combinations.
Very pleasing to see Be My Beau Ryan - another of the last of the great hard nuts - play his 100th game, and he had a very good outing too.
Having seen the first half, SC Sheens gave Beau free reign to do what he liked, so he played variously at wing, right centre, fullback and did everything but score, ironic really for a bloke who's planted plenty in the in-goal area in his time.
And the result was dead set critical in what the MMM call describes as the premiership table "brought to you by Bailey's Ladders".
[They've also got the Red Cross blood bank to sponsor the blood rule when someone goes off to the blood bin - the slogan being "if you're tough enough to watch rugby league, you're tough enough to give blood". Marvellous]
After a weekend of improbable, highly fortuitous results, the Tigers sneak themsleves back into 8th, a game clear of the chasing pack for the last spot in the finals.
Thank the Good Lawd Joisus for that.
Joey Johns acting as sideline eye was asked by the lads in the commentary box what he thought of the game and he replied "kisses and cuddles are not the best preparation for the finals".
Anyone have any idea what he's on about?
How bizzare, how bizzare.

WESTS TIGERS 51. Tries: Koroibete (4), Utai (2), Blair, Heighington, Moltzen. Goals: Marshall (7). Field Goals: Marshall (1).
PARRAMATTA EELS 26. Tries: Mullaney (2), Roberts, Sio, Tautai. Goals: Burt (3).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 14,822.

unheard of in the modern era

Miracle workers,

Didn't see a frame of the Swans match, not even the highlights reel, so in no position to offer much comment.
Found myself at a surprise 50th birthday party at the Duke of Wellington Hotel in New Lambton in the company of a mob who don't mind a drink, and hardly need any excuse to have a few.
Newcastle, being the friendly town it is, saw the publican refusing point blank to put the Rules game on a spare screen that no one was watching with a stern "nah, mate" - not even a "sorry".
But did have two spies in Surfers Paradise.
Soon after the Swans kicked five goals in nine minutes shortly before three-quarter time, two almost simultaneous telegraph messages came through, both saying words to the effect of "Swans have taken to mid-way through The Champo to get going, but the floodgates have now opened."
The usual suspects turned up the "best" lists in the Monday morning fishwraps...Jack, Kennedy, O'Keefe, Roberts-Thomson, Bolton, McVeigh et al
The mid-field brains 'em week to week to week.
Thanks to some excellent work from Geelong at Kardinia Park to do a job on Adelaide, Sydney are now a game clear on top, with five regular season games to play.
Simply unheard of in the modern era.
The Stats Guru also pointed out the unusal fact that the Swans are the first team since the Sainters back in 2000 to win a game in every state in the same season.
Another example of the supreme advantage of winning away.
Seems Sam Reid will be out three weeks, after doing himself a mischief.
No great loss, at this stage, for mine, with the kiddie being a model of inconsistency all season.
It was reported that the coach chastised him mid-season for just that, reminding him that there is a clause in his contract that requires him to "kick goals" week in week out.
It's no use kicking six one week, then SFA the next.
Mr Ed is becoming more and more taciturn as the season wears on - as all good coaches should be - when quizzed on interview after the game re the eight game winning streak, he said only "there's no satisfaction just at this point".
Sydney should be able to account for Carlton fairly comfortably away this weekend - but it's not a game where they can allow any kind of complacency to sneak in.
Then it's the Pies blockbuster at the Bush for the chance to do the extremely rare double purple patch - ten in a row.
But best not to get ahead of ourselves here.
What more is there to say?

GOLD COAST: 2.1, 5.2, 7.4, 8.6 (54). Goals: Matera 3, Smith 2, Brown, Ablett, Lynch.
SYDNEY: 6.3, 8.7, 16.9, 19.12 (126). Goals: Roberts-Thomson 4, Goodes 3, Bolton 3, Jack 2, Dennis-Lane 2, Bird, Hannebery, Kennedy, McVeigh, Jetta.
At Gold Coast Stadium.
Crowd: 11,169.


Pains me as it does to say, but Balmain are shot birds.
Taking a full 65 minutes score their only try to narrowly avoid being beat to zip, says it all.
Weakness in defence down the middle of the ruck with missed tackles galore was there for all to see.
They stood around and looked at each other in attack, as if waiting for someone else to do something.
The two marquee players, Best Leb in the Game and The Great Benji, by their own admissions, had poor games.
The ranks are now so thin, the two young kids who were brought up from reserve grade [or maybe they were picked up at random at a bus stop on the Balmain Road mid-week], who were charged with guarding the left and right edges, found themselves out of their depth and were done like dinners by a Souths attack that's playing at its best in at least four years.
The child who played on one wing is a chappie called Marika Koroibete.
Who?
The hell is he exactly?
Things are not helped by blokes like poor old Matty Utai and That Bloody Adam Blair playing career-worst football.
Confidence, if there was any scrap of it left, has now gone right out the back door.
SC Sheens had that "what do you expect me to do?" look on his face as he sat in the sideline truck seat during the second half, and didn't hold back on interview after the game, describing the Tigers as "brain dead" at half time and "looking like a suburban park footy team".
He could have left it at that, but went on to add "you only have to look at other teams in our position; they have that desperation -- that 'we've got to win, we've got to win' mentality. We haven't. But that's where we need to be right now."
After being confomortably ensconced in the top four seemingly only yesterday, Balmain has made an ignominious exit from the top eight, slipping to 10th on the ladder, and being in the negative percentage area.
The Club Secretary would be apoplectic.
Despite the very, very good crowd [it is, after all, a traditional grudge match that goes back to the dawn of time], the Rabbitohs would have taken the lion's share of the gate receipts and the Secretary's got a stack of medical bills to pay for all those first graders who are malingering in Sick Bay waiting for miracle cures while not earning their keep, as he watches the wheels fall off the wagon and the prospect of making the finals receding out of view over the horizon.
At present, the team is probably beyond help down at The Room Full of Mirrors, so there's not much point going there.
They could do worse than start thinking outside the square again, to get themselevs out of this one.
They're going to need a few good ones.

SOUTH SYDNEY RABBITOHS 32. Tries: Peats (2), Merritt, Farrell, Clark. Goals: Reynolds (6).
WESTS TIGERS 6. Tries: Marshall. Goals: Marshall (1).
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 29,863.