"they be crazy"

Perplexees,

Eschewed the free ticket on offer and decided against attending the ground on a bitterly cold night with the teeth of a sou'westerly gale biting deep into the top-deck of the gods in the Brewongle stand, where the freebies were located.
Known as "the shivering seats".
Would have caught me death.
Sent my youngest child instead.
Others who did manage to attend noted, what with a rugby union match also being played simultaneously next door at the SFS, getting to and from the ground was a "complete and utter nightmare".
They also noted that the on-ground services were in a "schemozzle", with beer queues as long as 20 minutes.
Forget it if you wanted a pie.
And why did the game start, they ask, at the very silly time of 7.50pm, and so didn't finish much before 11?
Have the barking mad schedulers ever tried to get out of the Sydney CBD at that time of a regular Friday night, let alone when you add an extra 45 thousand or so footy fans into the mix?
Seems they do everything to deter even potential freeloaders from going to the game, in the hope that you stay home glued to the crystal bucket with Son of Robbie continually barking out at you from the TV screen telling you to put a bet on.
"Crazy" seemed to be the common word of choice to describe the whole experience.
After the first quarter, which featured no less than 15 goals, one of my spies at the ground sent through a telegraph message reading: "a goal from every centre ball up! they be crazy!".
Another pushed through "1st qtr: Crazier than Crazy Craves!"
Crazy is the word.
You'd see any number of games where that many goals wouldn't be scored in the entire match.
The Swans were asking for trouble playing that way; defence didn't come into it as Geelong in their trademark fashion had loose men everywhere.
The Cats knew they had them sucked in, and had all the answers if Sydney wanted to play the game their way.
No one, it appears, could hear the coach screaming "man up! man up!" from the home bench.
Crazy.
After all that, the half time consensus among the onlookers seemed to be that the team who had the most legs that lastest the longest would win.
And so it came to pass.
Sydney were simply outplayed and outclassed in the Champo getting seven goals kicked on them, and despite a good finish in the last, there was to be no brilliant comeback, with the fat lady singing early and loud from the top of the Paddington End construction site.
In the denoument, they didn't get beaten by much, but of course the scoreboard doesn't lie, nor care by how many; a point will do.
SC Horse singled out, unfairly for mine, Sam Reid for special attention in the Sunday fishwraps, saying his poor form is "a major worry".
There's no doubt Sam is suffering from a lack of confidence, but maybe the coach has forgotten that they were telling the bean-pole all last season, if he would only listen to them, that he could make a really good full-forward, but then eventually gave up, and signed Tippett instead.
Crazy.
The Crows turn-coat who's been characterised as a dirty rotten scoundrel in Adelaide is eligible to play in Round 14 v Carlton at home - having just missed, by a fortuitous scheduling quirk, both crazy road trips to Adelaide, a fortnight apart.
Little wonder Reid is somewhat downcast, just from feeling the hot breath of Tipsy Tippett down his neck, which is no fault of his own.
Fancy having that on yr back.
At Saturday morning smoko down at the magic waters at Bronte, they would all have been gazing out over the Tasman Sea, as Longmire tugged at his forelock, given that they'll have to cross The Ditch sometime this week to play on Thursday afternoon in Wellington.
In the full knowledge that they can't afford to come back from there empty-handed, without the inaugral Cake Tin Cup sitting next to the Club Chairman on the flight home, in a first class seat.

SYDNEY: 8.1, 10.3, 11.6, 16.7 (103). Goals: McVeigh 3, Malceski 2, Goodes 2, Bolton 2, Hannebery 2, Reid, Roberts-Thompson, Pyke, McGlynn, Kennedy.
GEELONG: 7.2, 9.4, 16.7, 19.10 (124). Goals: Motlop 3, Hawkins 3, Chapman 2, Taylor 2, Stokes 2, Horlin-Smith, Podsiadly, Smedts, Johnson, Selwood, Hunt, Christensen.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 31,060.


Shuffled into the Front Bar at The Local on Monday morning, just to check the word on the street.
The small-time drug dealers & hucksters were lamenting the well known phenomenon in their trade - no one seems to want to buy on a cold, wet weekend.
Ah well.
Too bad.
The Brown Bros, knowing they would be in for a fair ribbing when they got around to fixing a few footpaths for the council, were rather sheepish after NZ went down 32-12 to AUS in the rugby league "Anzac Test Match".
So, being at my magnanimous best, slapped them on their hugely broad shoulders with commiserations, and was promptly offered a draft from their jug, with a "ah yep, no worry bru, always next time, eh, bru?"
Never one to be afraid of or shy away from selling my soul for a free beer.
Found The Philosopher in his usual corner; well aware that the Swans had fallen at the first hurdle in their opening encounter against a half-way decent side, he poked his bony finger at that day's yarn on the back page of the fishwrap that suggested The Great Benji Marshall's bung toe does not look like getting any better any time soon and he may be out of the Balmain line up for longer than the expected six weeks, which could well be a season-killer.
He grunted, and mumbled "I worry about my pessimism, and the fact that maybe I'm administering the last rites too early..." before his voice trailed away and he nodded for another glass of this week's favoured tipple.
As the barmaid fixed him a Manhattan, she said "Aaww...don't worry about it Prof. Pessimism is good. You are vindicated if it all goes to shit and you are proved right, but unlike optimism, you can also be downright delighted if you are proved wrong".

WESTS TIGERS: Bye.[Representative Weekend].

struggling for superlatives

Seafarers,

Some people get spooked by Hobart.
There have been yachtsmen of my acquaintance who do it year after year, in the full knowledge that the place generally gives them the creeps.
Some people have even been known to suffer from Paris Syndrome.
Especially during The Quiet Little Drink.
The symptoms usually include throwing yrself on the ground, then twirling about like a Whirling Dervish, and banging yr head into walls while loudly uttering gibberish - completely unable to attend to any task at hand.
Not the Swans, or me, but North Melbourne were prime candidates for a positive diagnosis.
After a customary slow start, the Championship Quarter was just about the best quarter of football you could possibly pay to see.
With North suffering from utter helplessness, it was as if Sydney had the Midas Touch on everything.
The Stats Guru was delighted to send in a telegraph message saying it's been 18 years since The Bluds have kicked eleven goals between half and three-quarter time.
And added "that should tell you something".
The fishwraps were struggling for superlatives and could only come up with "astonishing" "stunning" "blistering".
Best described, for mine, as a total destruction of a demoralised, deranged enemy's front lines with heavy artillery.
No survivors.
After going completely missing in the opening stanza, Odd Head went on to play Best on Ground up front for the second time in as many matches to pick up some kind of medal named after an obscure Tasmanian who no one has ever heard of who played a few games for North back in the day, sometime then.
Mr Malceski came in a close second down back, followed by the entire attacking mid-field, collecting one Brownlow vote - each.
You couldn't possibly out flank that and the full-on remorseless assault was as close to perfect as anyone could imagine.
What ever else happened didn't really matter.
It would have made more than a few rival coaches sit up in their straight-jackets and take notice.
On interview after the game, SC Horse was asked about the Champo and just said "we've got a pretty hardened bunch of blokes here".
Thinking that he was saying match fitness is now up to scratch, they put in the hard yards on the training track, and are playing rather well.
And it's all done through orthodox methods.
Fancy.
No need to inject snakey substances into the eyes of the players, there doesn't appear to be any elephant juice designed to make horses go faster floating around in the back room, and the medical staff are well aware that's it's all gone downhill since Cuz won a Brownlow on ice.
Besides, everyone's happy with the old fashioned way.
The players know they get their reward after the game - a couple of ice cold schooners and a hot pie & sauce in a brown paper bag.
And...Bob's your uncle...

NORTH MELBOURNE: 4.2, 7.8, 8.11, 13.14 (92). Goals: J Bolton 4, McGlynn 3, Hannebery 3, Goodes 2, McVeigh 2, Parker 2, Everitt, Kennedy, Jetta, O’Keefe.
SYDNEY: 3.4, 5.6, 16.10, 20.11 (131). Goals: Thomas 3, Cunnington 2, Hansen 2, Tarrant 2, Wells, MacMillan, Wright, Goldstein.
At Bellerive Oval, Hobart.
Crowd: 13,221.


The SCG is an anachronistic ground to be playing rugby league at it in this day and age, which is probably why they schedule only one game there a year.
It's the worst viewing ground for the code in all of Sydney, with the stands set so far back from the playing rectangle; spectators are a mile away.
But it was the Heritage Round nonsense; Balmain played in Western Suburbs colours to mark the 50th anniversary of the 1963 Grand Final between St George and Western Suburbsb which was played on the hallowed turf [Wests lost in the knee deep mud, by the way].
But, last Sunday's match never came anywhere near close to greatness, and was in fact a tawdry affair from start to finish.
Tigers robbed blind in the early part, with the opening try disallowed due to a non-existent obstruction, and the second try disallowed due to a non a existent shoulder charge.
And then the Bamfords missed a blatant forward pass from the Dragons, and in they went.
What the?
Should have been up 12-0 after ten minutes but it was still 0-0 after half an hour.
Despite officialdom conspiring against them, the truth is the Tigers had too many passengers and made too many mistakes.
A gallant comeback in second half was undone by three dropped balls in the denoument and a bloody one-point field goal with two minues left on the clock by that prick Soward.
Turns out harsh words were spoken between Farah and Soward in a shirt pulling incident just before half-time
Seems Soward put in a particularly offensive sledge on Farah, who thought about clocking the bloke until Soward realised in a second that he had said was wrong, and instantly apologised.
Neither was saying after the game what it was all about, insisting "we've both agreed to leave that on the field".
But you could imagine it might have something to do with Farah's life long mate, a Sydney Airport baggage handler and major league drug importer who's facing a long stretch at The Bay for stacks of kilo's, who Farah gave a character reference for at the sentencing hearing last week, you know "he's a good kid, known him all my life, quiet as a mouse, respectful of his elders, loves his Mum...", that sort of thing.
Little wonder Soward is widely detested for being a serial pest, no one likes a loudmouth who looks like some kind of weird deformed weazel.
Even though Soward is probably the best exponent of kicks-in-play in the caper and is the premier field goal marksman, and won the game off his own bat, he commands no respect, from anyone of any stripe.
Coach Harry would have less hair on his head than he had at the start of the game as he pulled it out in great tufts.
In his first year coaching a first grade side, he's be miffed that he had no honeymoon period to speak of and presided over a team that's 2 & 4 after six and 13th on a ladder of 16.
The Club Secretary has shown the new boy how to work the antique abacus in the office, but however much they whirr the beads, it doesn't changes the numbers.
No Marshall, no cigar, in short and simple terms for the next little bit.
With the Great Benji out for a minimum of six weeks with a toe mischief [Club Doctor: "A shocker. Worst toe I've ever seen. Blew up to the size of salami, and was as black as the ace of spades with purple edges. Dead set."], the season teeters on a knife edge.
Mr Potter would be happy enough to have the week off with a round of representative games on this weekend and club football in abeyance.
He might even slot in a personal, private, first-ever visit to the Room Full of Mirrors down on the Balmain Road, just to see what it's like.

WESTS TIGERS 12. Tries: Moltzen, Murdoch-Masila. Goals: Anasta (2).
ST GEORGE-ILLAWARRA DRAGONS 13. Tries: Cooper, Morris, Vidot. Field Goals: Soward (1).
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 21,844.

the floodgates

Umbrellarists,

It was a fairly typical autumn weather week in the Emerald City, before the advent of climate change.
Completely normal.
Coastal showers followed by more heavy coastal showers, with the diurnal range starting to bite.
About 80mm in the gague at Camp Campsie over five days, so it was always bound to be a heavy track at HQ.
In the end, the players destroyed the centre square, and the SCG groundsmen would have been after both teams muddy guernsey's and shorts to put through the copper to wash out the priceless black Bulli soil to re-cycle as top-dressing in the summer.
You could see why the Goodes Train had his cranky head on, as it's hard to say whether he ever had a clean take of the soap-cake ball in the entire match, and spent most of his time clocking opposition players and knocking them over, and pointing and glaring at his own blokes.
Forgot a few times that he's given up the captaincy.
Never mind.
The current two skippers were Best on Ground, for mine.
3 votes Odd Head for being the most mud covered player on the ground.
2 votes Son of Garry for sitting on and shutting down Son of God.
1 vote for the Haneberry Kiddie just for being a top bloke.
Special mention should also be made of Spida Jnr and The Crazy Canadian.
Just for throwing their weight around in the bog.
After the Champo, the result, of course, was never in doubt.
With Gold Coast tired and pretty much in disarray, the floodgates were always going to open after three-quarter time, and with six goals in the denoument, so it came to pass.
A game that never looked like achieving great heights.
SC Horse would take very little from it, apart from the improvement in match fitness and being a good training run in the wet.
And they're bound to encounter some of that in the completely insane road trip they are about to embark on.
Pop down to Hobart to play North at 'home', then back to HQ for the trifling matter of a game against Geelong, on a rarely scheduled Friday night in Sydney, before rowing across The Ditch to take on the out-of-sorts and under-manned Saints on Anzac Day at The Cake Tin in Wellington, of all gawd forsaken places.
Still, after unfurling The Flag - which actually looks more like a pennant, as it should - at home for the first time as defending premiers, might as well take The Champions of the World on an international overseas tour to spread the love.
Whoever the bright spark was who dreamt that up was a dead-set genius.

SYDNEY: 2.1, 6.4, 11.10, 17.12 (114). Goals: McVeigh 4, Everitt 2, Parker 2, Pyke 2, O'Keefe 2, McGlynn, Bolton, Kennedy, Jack, Jetta
GOLD COAST: 2.2, 3.4, 8.6, 11.7 (73). Goals: Dixon 3, Hall 2, Matera, Hutchins, Shaw, Day, May, Smith.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd 20,372.

What a silly game of football.
Tigers cruelly caned in the penalty count to the ridiculous tune of 14-7!
The Umpires certainly liked the sound of the little birdie singing in their whistles.
Never mind that Balmain came to play smart and dirty, and were officially warned no less than three times about pinning the player down in the tackle to slow down the play-the-ball, and were threatened with the skipper being sent to the sin bin in the end, while the Best Leb in the Game consistently held that line with the Bamfords', "but it wasn't us, yr honour, we never done it, honest".
As Joey Johns said on the wacky MMM radio commentary in Dad's Shed "giving the referee a bit of lip is like talking to yr wife or girlfiend, it doesn't matter if she's right or wrong, there is absolutely no point in going on with it".
Trying something different by playing Robbie out of position a bit, effectively giving him a roving brief through the back line and the Great Benji handing over the goal kicking duties to Braith Anasta; a job he had at the Roosters - he's a better sharp-shooter at the black dot, anyway - were both smart moves.
With the forward pack putting in some very solid work, it worked a treat for the first 60 minutes, but then, all of a sudden, without warning, the Bamfords went off their tits, and Melbourne ran in three unanswered tries off penalties to put the thing in the dilly bag as the fat lady started singing.
Fancy leading 12-6 at half time, and getting done 26-12 through no real fault of your own [sort of]?
Rules are made to be broken, but still, robbed blind.
Captain Farah, on interview after the game understated the matter: "I am sure some of the penalties were warranted...there were some that were frustrating and my view was different on them to the refs view."
Coach Harry would probably be perplexed, as he can see that even if the refs are on your side, the truth is the Mighty Tiges will struggle to be competetive with the really good sides this season, and in a comp with no real also-rans - anyone can win anything on their day - they'll have to continue to win at home and snag a few away to have any hope at all of making the top eight.
But that should go without saying.
Mildly comforting that Balmain have played the two most likely Grand Finalists this season in the last two weeks, so handy to get them out of the way this early on.
However, Mr Potter will have to put his thinking cap on, followed by his wizard's hat, to get them out of the bottom eight on the table, even in the near term.
To make matters worse, Marshall has done a mischief to his toe, of all things, and could be out for any number of weeks you might nominate - there's been no word from Sick Bay, on the fear that it looks bad.
If that's the case; season over.
And two Balmain players, including Anasta, have been rubbed out for a week on hastily cobbled-together trumped-up "dangerous contact" charges.
What next, Fawlty?

MELBOURNE STORM 26. Tries: Cronk, Fonua, Vave, Waqa. Goals: Smith (4), Widdop (1).
WESTS TIGERS 12. Tries: Marshall, Tedesco. Goals: Anasta (2).
At Melbourne Rectangular Stadium.
Crowd: 18, 866.

welcome to the long weekend

Long Sufferer's,

Robbed blind, in the rain, in Gosford, to nil.
Welcome to the long weekend.
Whoever the bright spark was who scheduled a match in Gosford on Maundy Thursday obviously had rocks in his head, what with the home side effectively "away", the opposition on the other side of the Bridge, and the F3 Freeway - the only way to drive there - choked with Easter traffic, makes it just brilliant for the travelling fan.
You'd imagine most of the people in the stands and on the bleachers at Singo Stadium would have been white-bread refugees from Sydney, driven out by the ever more madding crowd and the ridiculous property prices, who are now permanent residents of the Central Coast, who took their allegiances with them.
It was unusually hot for an alleged autumn day, but then the southerly with patchy rain swept in just in time for the game, and the players had trouble with the greasy ball.
But then the Bamfords stepped in and gave the game to the home side on a silver platter.
The Manly try off a blatant forward pass just set the tone, with the other tries all a matter of conjecture, with arms and legs going everywhere over the touchline as the try scorer knocked out the corner post.
What use are touch judges in this day and age, with dodgy TV replays right, left and centre??
And the only time the Tiges went over, the try was disallowed on account of a faint hint of sheparding from the Try Scoring Freak, and ruled as obstruction.
What the?
Have they changed the rules?
The Balmain skipper on interview after the game said he now has trouble reading the rule book on that interpretation, and might as well give up the "second man play" if that's going to be the case.
An utter shocker from the rude bastard referees.
But, in truth, Balmain had only themselves to blame.
It's the first time they have been held to SFA in almost four years.
Oh, dear.
After six consecutive possessions and forcing Manly into their own in-goal five times, they couldn't convert that pressure into any points, and it all went down the toilet from there against a side that could well be described as pretty handy, an early Premiership favourite you would have thought on that defence, even though you have to wonder how they can afford that many representative players under the salary cap rules, let alone pay the umpires.
Nothing to worry about when there's plenty of money in the back office, where the accounts are only kept haphazardly.
Things tend to go more smoothly when you live on the right side of the tracks.
The scoreboard doesn't lie, so that's all the more reason to hate Manly.
The animosity goes back to the 50's and 60's when Manly were well known for poaching their best players - all unprincipled men who were widely disparaged as traitors and mercenaries - from poor working class clubs on the other side of the Harbour, with the lure of a bright future.
They've never been forgiven, even though generations have passed since the Fibro's v Silvertails detestment began and specific incidents of bastardry are now lost in the mists of time, it's got through in the genes.
As if you were born to hate Manly.
Back in the day, the black and orange t-shirt with white lettering "I support Balmain, and anyone playing Manly" was a common sight at Leichhardt Oval.
In 1990, when Steve "Blocker" Roach was sent off for patting the referee on the head in my one, only, and last attendance at Brookvale Oval - with my life only saved by running for a Palm Beach bus - the loathing of Manly fans lodged in my backbone, unable to be removed.
To make matters even worse, the two times the Tigers have played north of the Hawkesbury River in four games this season, they've been flogged, twice.
And they've still got Gold Coast, Brisbane, and North Queensland to come.
Let alone down Mexico way v Melbourne and Auckland.
The only saving grace was to see the Great SC Simmons return from the Dark Satanic Mills of England to be back in the coaches box with Coach Harry.
The Idiot Savant has returned to his old job as the club Welfare Officer/Assistant Coach, where he belongs.
Who knows what they pay him, but the bloke is priceless.
Royce is absolutely inscrutable, and he makes it his business to know about everything that is going on, is a master troubleshooter, and is the reason why the Tigers players are never in the papers.
Keeps a keen eye on his players' social life - they know he has spies everywhere - and they also know he knows a thing or two about rugby league to boot.
Royce doesn't talk much, but when he speaks, people listen, and listen good.
On the bus home from Gosford, the players could only guess what he was thinking.

MANLY-WARRINGAH SEA EAGLES 26. Tries: Williams (2), Cherry-Evans, Matai, Symonds. Goals: Lyon (3)
WESTS TIGERS 0.
At Central Coast Stadium, Gosford.
Crowd: 11,758.

The Premiership Shrine in the corner of the loungeroom next to the Bush Telegraph was dismantled on the morning of the match, no trace now remains, as the Swans transition from reigning Premiers to defending Premiers.
A place of reassuring comfort, and a talking point among visitors, for a 25 week off-season...but now it's gorn to mark the start of the traditional toughening-up period.
Very little to be learnt, and certainly nothing to be gained from the pipe opener, except that a win is a win is a win.
Still, the opening game of the season is always a fairly good time to brush off the cobwebs and shake the dust off the legs.
Beating the Pygmies by five goals in a canter would have been just about the best most anyone hope for.
In the rooms after, the players would have been reaching for the cans of WD40 to spray on the rusty bits, in the hope that they'll come good and work again next week.
Super Coach John "Horse" Longmire would do well to pay attention to getting his team up to match fitness.
It'll probably take a month, with the team clearly short of a run.
Any longer and they could struggle against half-way decent sides.
The Pygs have no doubt improved on last year as the boys they have grow up, acquitted themselves rather well, and could trouble other poor-to-middling sides through the year, but they certainly won't kick five unanswered goals against anyone again this season.
Caught me, and the Swans, having a late afternoon nap after quarter-time.
You could go through the roster, but suffice to say it was very pleasing to see Captain Jack win the Brett Kirk Medal just for playing good.
Mummy and Mr Pyke did some sterling work early - you have to like big blokes throwing their weight around - with the Childe Hannabery, Keefey and Rick Shaw prominent across the middle.
The Ugliest Man In Football stamped his authority on the back line late, but didn't get enough game time for mine.
The Reid Kiddie did nothing all day except take the Mark of the Year [so far]; an absolute screamer.
Tipsy Tippett would be scratching his head.
The third leg is looking good on the Goodes Train.

GREATER WESTERN SYDNEY: 0.4, 5.4, 7.8, 11.10 (76). Goals: Patton 3, Sumner 2, Treloar, Shiel, Smith, Cameron, Giles, Greene.
SYDNEY: 4.5, 9.7,12.9, 16.10 (106). Goals: Jack 3, Goodes 2, McGlynn 2, Bolton 2, Pyke 2, Reid 2, Kennedy, McVeigh, Mumford.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 23,690.

much honour bestowed

Trick Cyclists,

Frankly surprised by the crowd at Leichhardt Oval of a Friday night, even if the official figure through the turnstiles were obviously inflated.
The ground looked fairly full, but 18,000 is nominal capacity, 19,000 is hanging from the rafters territory, while 20,000 is just downright dangerously overcrowded.
You should have been there for the ground record 22,877 versus Souths in '05 - wild scenes, very scary.
In reality there were probably less than 15,000 in, but that's still an unexpected vote of confidence in an old ground that the club is intent on closing, if not at the end of this year, then certainly by the end of 2014.
The loyalists are not about to let it go without a fight, so they still turn up in numbers despite the enormous difficulty of getting there on a Friday after work.
Embarrassed to say the weakness in me prevented my attendance.
It's always been said that Leichhardt gives the home side a ten-point start, just from the impact of the noise in that man-made ampitheatre of the home crowd which must be deafening in the player's ears, and so it came to pass again in this one.
Never mind that the engine room was on fire.
Marshall and Farah on song, with the young Jacob Miller kiddie getting used to the pace of first grade at half-back and displaying a good turn of foot, kicking ability, and handy defence, along with an older football brain on his shoulders that belie his tender years.
With The Great Keefy "Bloodnut" Galloway out for at least three months with a busted pec, you would have thought the pack would be down on brute attacking strength, but no, they didn't miss a beat.
Woods seamlessly stepped into the breach, and Anasta and Blair actually had pretty good games for a complete change.
Could Coach Harry be the miracle worker of the season?
It was also handy to come up against a hapless Eels outfit who were intent on putting on a display characterised by a litany of mistakes and a comedy of errors.
The Great Benji's second-half try was as funny as a fit.
All night, Parramatta were complaining about getting the rough end of the pineapple when it came to the penalty count - caned they were - and letting the Bamford's know all about it in no uncertain terms.
Balmain were given a penalty for something or another, and the opposition promptly launched into more back chat.
By this time, the Bamfords had had enough and marched the penalty a further 10 metres forward for being given lip.
The ref ran forward, marked the spot, and Benji, who just happened to have the ball, followed the ref, took a quick tap and strolled 70 metres to the tryline as the Parramatta players were walking back to get on-side with their backs to the play.
The Bamford, as if to say to the Eels "that'll teach you for giving me the shits", made an elaborate gesture of pointing to the spot underneath the black dot and blowing the whistle, loudly, awarding the try.
Brilliant!
As they said on the telly commentary "talk about Parramatta getting their pants pulled down in public".
It's also pleasing to see that the long tradition of the "set play" that SC Sheens so emphasised during his encumbency has been adopted and adapted and carried on by Coach Harry.
You only have to look at the left and right edge set play, before turning it back into the centres to score - Ayshford's try being a classic case in point - they must practice it endlessly at training.
It's so simple you would have thought the opposition should be able to read such a regulation set play like a book, but they are generally fooled by the speed of the ball through the sets of hands, find themseleves overstretched looking which way and that, and then wrong footed by the inevitable switch-back.
Works almost every time.
No doubt the team would have been buoyed by the new four year contract The Best Leb In The Game signed mid-week.
Robbie Farah admitted that he could have gone elsewhere for quite a bit more cash dollars, but he's not greedy, and happy enough to be told that he could Captain the side for as long as he wants, and would go to his grave as that rarest of beasts nowadays - a one-club man.
Loyalty rewarded with intangible, but nonetheless, very important things, that money can't buy.
And knowing full well that that is what his dear-departed mother would have wanted him to do, so that he will have much honour bestowed on him as his career reaches its denoument in due course.

WESTS TIGERS 31. Tries: Lawrence (2) Ayshford, Marshall, Moltzen. Goals: Marshall (5). Field Goals: Miller (1).
PARRAMATTA EELS 18. Tries: Loko, Morgan, Toutai. Goals: Sandow (3).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 18,326.


Sydney Swans flying under the radar, as usual, going into the split first round.
They reportedly barely rate a mention in the Melbourne fishwraps, and were worth just a half page in the Saturday edition of the Sydney [Eastern Suburbs] Morning Herald.
Not bad for team that are the reigning premiers and soon to become the defending premiers.
Never came to the attention of the authorities during their few days on the pool deck at the Coffs Harbour Hilton, did nothing in the pre-season comp, and then lost a trial match to the mighty Port Adelaide in the last quarter, as if it mattered diddly-squat.
They will miss the Alex Johnson kiddie, who showed great promise at the pointy end of last season, with a season ending knee mischief before the season even began.
The loss of any Premiership Player in the course of the year will be keenly felt, but they appear to have good depth in the roster with a few blokes champing at the bit, and Tipsy Tippett - who's apparently settled in well for the fully-cooked breakfast down at the local cafe - cooling his heels for the first half of the season.
Did note mid-week that The Goodes Train decided to give away the co-captaincy this season, to concentrate on injecting growth hormones into the third leg he grew during the off season.
He'll need it against the Yoof of Today who will try their hardest to put a yard or two on the old bloke yet again, unaware that sly guile, unparralled talent and vast experience will always win out in the end.
Very satisifying to see Keiran "Son of Gary" Jack take over Goodesy's co-captaincy, after being identified as a leader of men from very early on.
The rarest of rare football fairytales.
Fancy a rugby league player who grows up to represent Australia with distinction at full-back and has a stellar Hall of Famer career for the pre-eminent rugby league club in Sydney - Balmain - spawning a child who goes on to Captain the pre-eminent Australian Rules club in Sydney?
Surely unique.
Swans only problem from the off may be complacency, given the very soft draw they have in the first two games; the pipe opener against the Pygmies away [but effectively at home], and then the Suns at home.
Guaranteed to go top again, early on, at least.

Re: Your appointment by Letters Patent as the Honourable Royal Commissioner

Dear Sir,

It gives me great pleasure to appoint you by Letters Patent as the Honourable Royal Commissioner to Inquire into the Indian Massacre, which occured at Madras, Hyderabad, Mohali and Delhi, Feb 22-Mar 24, 2013.
Mr Michael J Clarke, QC, has been appointed as Senior Counsel Assisting the Royal Commission.
Please be advised of the following Terms of Reference:
1. Determine the circumstances surrounding, and the events of the Massacre.
2. Determine the cause, or causes, of the Massacre.
3. Determine the causes of the actions and conduct of, and the culpability of, the following persons; Mr RJ Inverarity, the group of persons collectively known as "The Faceless Men", Mr PW Howard, and Mr JM Arthur, before, during and after the Massacre.
4. Determine specificially the causes of the actions and conduct of, and the culpability of, Mr SR Watson during the Massacre.
5. Determine the involvement and culpability of any other players or persons in the Massacre.
6. Make recommendations to the Director of Public Prosecutions regarding the prospect of conviction of any of the above persons for treason, cowardice, disloyalty, failing to obey orders, incompetance, insolence, and indolence.
7. Prepare and deliver to me an Interim Report by no later than the commencement of play in the First Test against England, at Trent Bridge, on July 10, 2013.

You will of course be well aware that as Royal Commissioner, you have sweeping powers to compel witnesses to give evidence, subpoena documents, and conduct your own investigations, as you see fit.
On behalf of the people of Australia, I wish you well in the conduct of this arduous, but supremely important task.

Yours sincerely,

Quentin Bryce AC CVO,
Governor-General of the Commonwealth of Australia.

a deplorable state of affairs

Fellow Flabbergastee's,

There's been a small forest felled to provide the newsprint for the goings on in the Australian cricket team of late, so there's no need for me to add to it.
It seemed fairly clear cut.
Skipper makes a few simple team rules, some choose to flaunt the rules; ok, fair enough, rules are made to be broken, but after the Horror of Hyderabad, in any sort of workplace, you'd expect to be asked to explain yourself viz a viz why you farked up so badly.
And in the modern workplace, almost everyone is subject to performance review from time to time, especially if your performance is patently manifestly not up to scratch.
Three of the four copped it on the chin for the final infraction of the rules - mea culpa - to try to avoid being told that they are now no longer popular with the selectors.
The other one, SR Watson, accepts no such fate.
What abysmal behaviour by FIGJAM - surely any lingering respect that there might have been at-large for the little turd has now been competely wiped away by such an appalling performance.
Fancy hopping on the next flight out after being told you won't be considered for the third test, without even telling your Captain that you are quitting the tour [never mind the impending birth of the first child - a very handy coincidental sideshow]?
Such a dismal course of events would have normally prompted a sharp rebuke by the cricket heirachy at the very least, but strangely, not in this case.
The prick could clearly see that he had got off Scott free, and so the minute he landed at KSA, he started bagging team management and anyone else he could think of, from here to breakfast.
Under normal circumstances, that would be viewed by the authorities as disloyalty of the highest order; but no.
And yet, even after all that, much to the general public's disgust, FIGJAM gets back on the plane to Delhi - by all reports at the behest of Pup - who for some unknown reason appears to want to smoke the peace pipe with the puffed-up jester, even when he is under absolutely no obligation to do so.
Inexplicable.
What on earth happened to "the line in the sand", drawn just a week ago?
To make matters infinitely worse, MJ Clarke contines to struggle badly with his chronic dose of Shaggers Back, and at 0-3 down and the series long lost, you would have thought he'd be reluctant to risk himself further by playing in the deadest of dead rubbers, given that a five test tour of Engerland looms large.
So, if he doesn't play, does FIGJAM become the 44th Strayan Test Captain, straight after putting on an entirely uncalled for, unacceptable, unforgiveable, simply unbelievable hissy fit?
Lord help us.
Perish the thought.
Even the possibilty affronts everything about it.
Surely, if MJ Clarke is ruled out, even if MS Wade is fit after his basketball accident, BJ Haddin should be named as a batting captain, a la JM Brearley?
Nothing said more clearly that the selectors are clutching at straws when the Chairman Himself said in public mid-week that he'd wholeheartedly welcome back Mr Cricket, if he decided to come out of retirement.
This, of a bloke, who very cleary said on retirement that he never ever wants to go to India again.
What the?
The only lure for MEK Hussey to return for a one-off arms-length appearance would be the promise of being named Straya's 44th Test Captain, aka JM Brearley.
Stranger things have happened.
Every man for himself, anything goes, appears to be the deplorable state of affairs at the minute.
But, you'd have to worry about the physical and mental health of the 43rd Strayan Captain - he'd have a fair bit on his mind, you'd imagine, as he lays on the work bench with a four and a half foot Indian woman walking up and down on his back.
The look on his face would likely be troubling.
Joisus.