The Living Legend's seed is strong

Exhaultants,

The Stats Guru was off his tits.
The finest Sydney performance in Adelaide in 25 years.
Any number of records broken.
The Hannebery Kiddie's 40+ million posessions the best by anyone from any club, anywhere, all year.
Three votes for you, son.
For the less statistically minded, who just enjoy the game for what it is, a 14 goal football lesson will do very nicely indeed, thank you very much.
The scoreboard never lies.
And 11 individual goal kickers means they've got firepower all around the park.
Surely no one has ever been beaten keeping the opposition to without a goal in The Champo?
Having been born and bed in Adelbrain before fleeing across the continent as soon as possible, the win is all the sweeter.
My spies at the ground were of course all mad crazy flip out Crows fans who were having a glum night of it.
Telegraphing a message back saying "hey, what's not to like?" didn't seem to cheer them up.
Everyone knows what it's like to lose at home, no more than the Crows skipper Van Berlo who came out mid week and said the "Adelaide brand", whatever that is, had been damaged, yep you read right, "damaged" by the "horrendous" 77 point loss.
Just hope he checked that with the Crows Marketing Dept before he put that one out there.
Crikey!
Ordinary football team plays Swans in a regulation game of rules football and comes out at the other end of the worm hole damaged goods?
Who would have thought?
But all agreed The Jack Brothers story is one for the ages.
Found myself on innumerable occasions on the hill at Leichhardt Oval in the late 80's and early 90's watching Garry Jack go round for Balmain.
A dead set Living Legend, firmly enscounced in the Balmain Pantheon and the NSWRL Hall of Fame, mind you.
Without doubt the finest full back of his era, and some say ever, although some quibble that Keith "Keefy" barnes was better, but he played in the 60's, well before my time.
Garry had star quality written all over him, but never showed any leadership potential on account of he was perhaps the filthiest player in the game at the time, and that's saying something.
He was a very fine exponent of the Clothesline Tackle, a master at the Squirrel Grip, and no one did a better Christmas Hold.
But all was forgiven when you walked in through the Mary St gate ten minutes late just in time to see Jack carve up a defensive line, jink & step, brush off would-be tackles left right and centre, and sprint like a scared hare over 40-50m to score under the posts, without a hand being laid on him.
No finer sight in world sport, for mine.
Jack never had a nickname, he was just plain old Garry Jack, and boy could he play.
And then, much to his own surprise, in retirement, spawns not one, but two very handy Rules footballers.
The Living Legend's seed is strong.
Never in doubt.
And he apparently goes to every Swans game, home and away, and is now rarely seen in the crowd at the league.
Couldn't be a prouder father.
Speaking of fathers & sons, the Childe Mitchell had a fine game.
Jess White...where's he been lurking? In dark shadows by the looks, but had a blinder on return.
Good thing the Swans refused to trade White for Tippett, [on the principle of you never, ever, let a Premiership player go] and that's when the whole scandal was blown wide open, then only to get Tipsy for next to nothing at the end of the shooting match!
Magnificent.
Wonder if SC Horse continues the time-honoured tradition set by SC Roos of having the players around to his place for a keg and a BBQ on the Saturday afternoon of the bye weekend, just to chew the fat and not worry about a thing?
You know it makes sense.


ADELAIDE: 1.4, 3.4, 3.9, 6.14 (50). Goals: McKernan 2; Vince, Callinan, Dangerfield, Lynch.
SYDNEY: 4.4, 10.9, 17.12, 19.13 (127). Goals: Morton 3, Bolton 2, McGlynn, White, Bird, Everitt, Goodes, Hannebery, Jack, Parker, Mitchell.
At Football Park, Adelaide.
Crowd: 38,374.


A very good win at the foot of the mountains against the Chocolate Soldiers.
Tigers took the get of jail free card with both hands and ran with it.
Never easy to win there, in front of a uniquely partisan home crowd.
To come back from looking like rubbish at 4-18 at the break, to win 20-18 was a mighty effort.
No lack of second half commitment there.
And this from a team of complete unknowns, who know they are playing for unexpected careers.
Read the team list when it came out on the Tuesday afternoon before the game and thought to myself "who are all these people?"
Then a telegraph message came in with an injury report that suggested that across all three grades, 1st Grade, Reserve Grade, and the Under 23's, Balmain Tigers had no less than 27 players incapacitated, not all of them in Sick Bay, but all of them buggered to various degrees and unable to play.
That's two full teams of rugby league players sidelined!
Little wonder no one has ever heard of some of the blokes who turned out this week in the firsts.
Like, has anyoine ever heard of, and who on earth is Seumanufagai -and that's just his last name; a commentator's nightmare - let alone the little-heralded Simona Kiddie, who scored a run away 80 metre try with all the cleverness in the world as he beat three tackles, to a point where the Panthers full back never laid a hand on him in the finish as he sailed into the in-goal underneath the black dot to win the game with seven minutes left on the clock.
And, strike a light, did Sean Meaney actually, really, truly play full-back for Balmain?
He's now an old man at 27 who hasn't been picked in first grade for years, and never ever in the starting line up.
Last time anyone ever heard of him was when there was a rumour going around that he was either dead or in jail.
That's how dire the injury toll is.
Did like the sight of the Best Leb in the Game in a suit and tie in the dug-out with his face all smashed up [two black eyes, broken nose, and a hairline cheekbone fracture - not that he's not had those before] after getting bashed up by QLD [because there was no other way of stopping him] playing for NSW in the first State-of-Origin game.
Farah was interviewed mid-game and asked how he was feeling "it's not a good look, I know, but seriously, it's fine. I'll be back next week."
With 13 rounds down that's the half way point in the season, and remarkably, after the way they've been going, they've actually lifted themselves off the bottom of the ladder.
Fark my brown dog, Harold.

PENRITH PANTHERS 18. Tries: Masoe, Simmons, Whare. Goals: Walsh (3).
WESTS TIGERS 20. Tries: Nofoaluma (2), Seumanufagai, Simona. Goals: Marshall (2).
At Penrith Stadium.
Crowd: 16,827.

when the crowd went ape-shit

Soddenites,

Masterful wet weather football.
Never in doubt after Q1.
Or even after the opening bounce, really.
Swans scored the first behind and were never headed throughout.
Had 'em completely snookered in defence, and every Sydney goal to half time was a snap off the boot inside 20 yards.
No call for set shots when they couldn't catch the bar of soap; systematically working the ball into in front of the goal square was the way to go
And why not throw in a few long bomb speculators to boot just to scatter the pigeons?
The Goodes Train's reception on his first goal was tumultuous, the sound that can only be heard in a Rules crowd, when the noise gradually reaches a cresendo as the play unfolds to the good of the home side, then finishes with a pearler.
No other game has anything like the din when the crowd went ape-shit as the Excitment Machine, the New Train Jetta scored the miracle goal in the Champo.
Must have booted the pill off close to the half back flank, it sailed clean over what defence there was, didn't bounce but rather plodded into the sodden turf and then just rolled and rolled and rolled and finally came to a stop just over the line between the big sticks with the goal umpire staring at it, as if transfixed.
The place went off the hook.
In the last quarter, just for a jolly jape it seemed, Jetta took a similar ball, but this time on the end of his fingertips, and then pirouetted before seeing The Goodes Train on the loose out of the corner of his eye, so kicked it a long long way, so high it could've bought rain, into the teeth of a very vacant forward pocket while yelling out "there you go, old man, chase that", which The Goodesy duly did, hard, until it rolled harmlessly over the boundary line next to the behind post.
You couldn't dream of a better partnership for Marn Grook.
Spectacular games, both.
All of the Brownlow votes would have gone to the backs, but JP Kennedy could've got a look in with his best game of the year.
There was a bit of silliness that went on in the second quarter when some Bomber tangled with Smiffy and came off second best with a punctured lung, and had to be medi-cabbed to the hospital, so the quarter went for 38m 43s.
Crikey!
That's almost as long as a full half of a rugby league game!
Said it before, say it again, the quarter's should be cut by five minutes and half time slashed by ten minutes to take a half hour off the game.
Everyone knows it goes on for far too long, but no one is prepared to do anything about it.
During the extra extra time, Essendon scored two important goals, to put a shiver of uncertainty through the crowd.
Spectating was trying, under the circumstances.
It was that shitty rain that's strangely peculiar to Sydney.
Light, but unremittingly constant, no wind at all; so certainly enough to give you a wet arse after a while.
It faded to a misty mizzle from time to time, and then you'd get a nice splash from the top of light tower directly behind you.
My trilbie was made of 100% paper, so the hat wasn't up to the job, and didn't cut the mustard.
The bloke outside the ground selling $5 plastic poncho's that'd he'd bought for 5c wholesale was doing a brisk trade.
The Good Lady Wife, The Youngest Daughter and her mad AFL loving mate The Engudster were also attendance, and congratulated, and profusely thanked me for securing tickets to the cheap seats in the dinky stand in front of the construction site that were entirely exposed to the elements.
Not very comfortable at all, and it wasn't much consolation when people around you tried to put on brave faces and were saying things like "well, at least it's not teeming".
However, the temporary cheap seats were in fact fine viewing, among the best in the ground for mine, on concourse level on the flank opposite the Ladies Stand, with a nice raking to look clearly over the bonces of the plastic headed folk in front of Row X.
But the facilities were worse than appalling.
Unlike the rest of Sydney who are renowned for turning up late to anything, arrived at the ground early and decided to grab a beer or two while there wasn't a line of thirsty people
Cruised past the one and only bar in the temporary zone to see the astonishing sight of the barmen pouring stubbies of Carlton Draught into plastic cups.
Stubbies? That's glass, isn't it? Wot the? What would happen to the empties in a full scale beer riot?
You are trying to tell me they couldn't even put a keg on a trolly and bring it over from the Olympic Hotel?
They routinely do better than that at a regular country football match, where they'd wheel in at least two kegs for a small crowd.
But, this, for a full house at the G?
Unbelievable.
Telegraphs from various spies on the other side of the ground suggested that even though they had kegs, it was no better at all in the permenant part of the arena.
Needless to say the beer queue was a mile long at quarter time, the wait for a pie at the chip shop was about two miles long, and the cranky snake into the one and only dunnie block was at least three miles in distance.
World class sports stadium?
My arse.
Third world, more like it.
It always amazes me how yr average punter - who pays good hard earned money to go through the turnstiles - is prepared to be treated like offal, with little or no complaint.
Why?
Could go on about it, but won't.
Joisus.
That's a fair whinge as it is.
Add to that the fact that what with the well known vagaries of Sydney public transport [it required a car, train and bus to get there], the long queues, getting there early to find an unfamiliar seat, and the utterly ridiculous length of the game - even though we live barely 15km from the SCG, it took no less than six and a half hours to go from door to door from our gaff.
Six and a half hours!!
No kidding. No Joke.
Oh, the trials and tribulations of the loyal supporter.
It's as if they try really hard to make it really hard on purpose.
Too old and intolerant for any of that nonsense anymore.
Oh dear, did someone say "shut the fark up Craves - you do go on - Joisus, just get on with it, will ya"?
The GLW has won free tickets to a Pygmies game, ironically against Essendon, out at the new Sydney Showground development at Homebush.
It'll be interesting to go and have a look at something which those who've been say really is world class, and "sheer luxury" in comparison, even for the humblest of patron.
And yet the Giants Marketing Dept can't get to grips with the fact that 99% of Sydney cabbies will draw a blank if you say to them "Skoda Stadium, thanks".
On a brighter note, SC Horse on interview after the game said he "was in awe" of The Great Goodes Train for backing up after the appallingly tawdry Collingwood business.
As little mention should be made of E.Everywhere being a fool to himself and a burden on the community, as possible.
Goodesy had a slow start, but then used his huge football brain, got used to the conditions, and ended up having a very large impact on the outcome of the match.
Pleasing to note that the man himself felt no need need to say anything at all after full time.
Let your four match-winning goals do the talking, as you point at the scoreboard.
And the co-captains in Odd Head and Son of Gary led by example and both had scrupulous games.
No doubt Sydney gets leadership right.
The Stats Guru noted that the Swans as they stand at 7-1-2 , with their upcoming string of matches, will be difficult to unseat from the top four if they can win away.
Never mind they are coming into an insane phase of the season.
If you were asked to go to Adelaide twice in the space of three weeks, you'd want the week in the middle off, just to go quietly mad.
Even under those trying circumstances, Clever Man Longmire would be thinking both games are eminently winnable, and would no doubt have a plan.

SYDNEY: 3.4, 6.7, 11.10, 17.13 (115). Goals: Goodes 4, Malceski 2, Jack, Mumford, Parker, O'Keefe, Mitchell, Bird, Jetta, Everitt, McGlynn, Pike.
ESSENDON: 1.4, 3.7, 7.9, 10.11 (71). Goals: Carlisle 2, Crameri 2, Goddard 2, Melksham, Bellchambers, Winderlich.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 29,792.

Go, Robbie, Go Farah.
Go you good thing.
All power to your oars.

WEST TIGERS. Bye.

free beer clearly not enough

Enthusiasts,

No question is was the strongest win of the season, and even better still to see the most hated team in the competition get whip-sawed.
The girl who gave the Great Goodes Train the ape spray and was promptly marched out of the ground only goes to prove, not as if any further proof is required, what a contemptible rabble of uncouth in-breds Collingwood supporters are.
Don't they know they are the ones just down from the trees?
Little wonder they are rightly detested the world over.
Never mind that Adam is a dual Brownlow Medalist, kicked his 400th goal in the seniors during the course of the match, and was clearly Best on Ground.
What more could be asked of a fella?
Goodes always plays well and looks years younger when he's got the mojo working with his protégé, the Jet Train, who might just keep the old man chugging along for a while yet.
Again the mid-field was the engine room, and it'd be no surprise if the chief fireman, the Hannabery Kiddie hasn't been in the Brownlow points pretty much every game this season.
Tom Waterhouse has him on the third line of betting at 9/1 to pick up the Chas at the end of the season.
It's not very often that Collingwood get held to a goal-less quarter, and then restricted to a single six-pointer in the Champo, and they would have been absolutely nowhere if it wasn't for Cloke throwing his weight around in the goal mouth.
Sterling work in the backs from the unsung Mr Malceski, Teddy Richards and company.
Ten Sysndey goal kickers in a low scoring affair, and the champing at the bit Tipsy Tippett becomes available in a few weeks; that must scare the shit out of everyone, not the least poor ol' Sam Reid.
Swans have clearly learnt a lesson or two from the recent past, taking a leaf out of the Hawthorn defence hand book, and the Geelong attack mainfesto.
Loose men everywhere, up front and down back, as required.
SC Longmire is a clever man - you don't win Premierships if you aren't - and is as happy as Larry to steal other people's ideas if he thinks they might work, as well as throw in a few loopy ones of his own.
The gin-soaked plans are discarded as quickly as they are adopted if they don't deliver - SC Horse is forever working on Plan B - not that it was required in this match.
And he's well aware of season strategy and the priceless value of comprehensive wins away, especially at the ground where they play the last game of the year.
The Stats Guru was happy to report that another MCG hoodoo has been done and dusted; Sydney's first win over the Pies at the G in 13 years.
So now, at long last, there's no fear of Headquarters.
Tickets in hand to the cheap seats for the solidly sold-out Marn Grook this Saturday.
Cheer, cheer.
No doubt the Goodes Train will get a rousing reception at home after his magnanimous handling of the tawdry Collingwood primate business, but he won't care, and will just carry on regardless.
But there will be no resting on their laurels on the training track this week, that much is true.
The thing is shaping up as a blockbuster in the true sense of the word, with the top six threatening to get away from the rest and Sydney just outside the top four on a tiny percentage difference after nine rounds - the dynamite will go in the rock, and which way it explodes will go a long way in determining how the Swan's season swings.
If there were any trees left at the SCG, folk would be climbing up them to get a look at the game.

COLLINGWOOD: 3.2, 3.4, 4.5, 8.7 (55). Goals: Cloke 3, Elliott 2, Witts, Seedsman, Dwyer.
SYDNEY: 4.5, 7.9, 11.11, 15.12 (102). Goals: Goodes 3, McGlynn 2, Hannebery 2, Pyke 2, Bird, Bolton, Jack, Jetta, Morton, Reid.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 65,306.

It's long been a saying in the folklore that the Leichhardt Oval home ground advantage is always worth a ten point start for the Tigers, and they needed every one of them.
A lucky win in anyone's language, with the Bamford in the TV Box having a great night, not.
The endless video replays called for by the ref had the television commentators at the end of their tether's; "we'll be lucky to finish this game by midnight at this rate".
It was a classic case of "television lies", as both sides had legitimate tries disallowed, and dodgy ones awarded.
In most cases the on-field Bamford was right on the spot, so why not leave it up to him to decide if it's a try in real time with the naked eye?
Will probably get more decisions right than wrong, with super slow motion reducing the caper to a millimetre perfect game.
The young winger Nofoalum's match winning try at the death was a perfect case in point - he planted the ball over the line right in the corner before taking out the corner flag all arms and legs with the tackler hanging on in his wake - a fair try for sure, and yet they looked at every available angle to try to find a reason not to award it, even though the man with the whistle who was right there on top of it said it was ridgy-didge.
Lord help us.
The miserable attendance was perfectly understandable, even though the Balmain Marketing Dept, in an act of deperation, were offering a free beer and free sausage sanger with every $25 general admission ticket.
Wouldn't have cost them much, but it was clearly not enough to get the punters through the turnstiles after three days of rain in the Emerald City, with heavy showers still sweeping across the ground that has precious little shelter from the elements, at game time.
The match was played on a bog track, and everyone who was standing on the hill was in ankle deep mud - no one likes to get a wet, let alone brown, arse.
Not to mention the near impossibility of getting to the ground after work of a Friday night, with no parking and woeful public transport.
And often after persistant wet weather the back gate is declared impassable and closed, meaning the only way to get there on foot is on broken footpaths and then up Heartbreak Hill to Mary Street.
Who could be blamed for not going?
Still, any crowd under ten thousand puts another nail in the coffin of the venerable tumbling down old ground, and Campbelltown Sports Ground must be on the chopping block also, with it pulling less than ten grand a few weeks ago and what with the internecine warfare going on in The Board.
The Club Secretary has had a long-held publicly-stated position that he'd dearly love to play every home game at the Sydney Football Stadium [now showing it's age, but still perfectly serviceable], if he thought he could get away with it.
He's got his excuse now, with a horror season looming with no-one to speak of through the gates at the suburban home grounds apart from The Man and His Dog, and therefore no cash in the coffers; economic imperatives will most likely sound the death knell and mark the end of an era at Leichhardt by next year.
The Spiritual Home will inevitably become a mere memory, and then a distant one, with the corporatisation of the game complete, where the only thing that counts is money.
The Best Leb in The Game was Man of The Match by the length of the street, having made no less than an astonishing 56 tackles.
He appeared the worse for wear for it, covered as he was at the post match press conference in bandages and band-aids, and he looked to have a broken nose [but he's broken his nose that many times it's hard to know what's "normal"].
Never mind the outstanding work he did at dummy half.
As Coach Harry, when asked about it, commented "Robbie is without doubt the best hooker in the game. Have I said that before? If he doesn't get picked for New South Wales I'll eat my hat".
[He was duly selected].
Farah on interview after the game said all the usual trite things about being relieved to "get away with the two points", but ended with "and now I'll have to see if I can remember the team song".
After snapping a seven game losing streak by the skin of their teeth, all concerned must be looking forward to having the State-of-Origin bye this weekend, and picking up the two points by doing absolutely nothing.
Being an incredible 162 points in arrears on the for and against tally, the win wasn't nearly enough to lift them off the bottom of the table.
With plenty of time on their hands, Coach Harry, if he had any sense, would send them all home for a few days, after ringing up their mothers to tell them to give their boy a good talking to.

WESTS TIGERS 22. Tries: Buchanan, Koroibete, Marshall, Nofoaluma. Goals: Marshall (3).
NORTH QUEENSLAND COWBOYS 20. Tries: Sims (2), Linnett, Winterstein. Goals: Thurston (2).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 7,125.

had it up to here

Fellow aghastee's,

Once Coach Harry daringly, bravely, and completely unexepectedly dropped the explosive mid-week bombshell by relegating his No.1 marquee player The Great Benji Marshall to the bench for the Rabbitohs game on account of he'd been playing like rubbish in recent weeks, it was all bound to go to hell in a handcart.
Benji has never played for Balmain in jersey No.14.
After all these years.
Ever.
Usually first picked.
He's come off the bench a few times while coming back from injury, but you have to go way way way back to find the last time, when he played in jersey No.17.
The match was without doubt the most appalling display put on by a side in the gold and black in recent living memory.
That's not in dispute.
Defence was shot to bits very early on, they had no ball, no direction in attack, no grunt in the pack...nothing, just nothing.
Worst of all, there were quite a few ball-watchers standing around waiting for someone else to do something.
Ball-watching is simply not acceptable in rugby league after the Under 12's, even in park football.
There is just no room for those types.
Anyone spotted playing with that attitude will have their card punched, and there were a few cards punched on Friday night, let me tell you.
No names, no pack drill; they know who they are.
It was a pitiful sight as the television camera loomed into the Wests' coach's box with 25 minutes gone and Balmain down 0-34 to reveal assistant coach The Great Roycie Simmons with his head in his hands, as if he was weeping, and then cut to the sight of The Great Benji prowling up and down the sideline garbed in a full-length dressing gown.
That was enough for even the most hardened supporter.
In the end, in the limited time he had on field, Benj didn't have a bad game, and the Best Leb In The Game put in a manful performance, but was clearly at his wits end in the finish, captaining a defeated, deflated, demoralised, plain embarrasing side.
The ramifications have been huge.
The day after the match, the Wests Tigers CEO, Stephen Humphries - a well-known, well-respected clean-skin administrator with an impeccable Balmain pedigree - promptly resigned.
Quit.
Gave the game away.
Could clearly see the buck would have to stop somewhere, and it would most likely be at the Club Secretary's expansive mahoganny desk in the Back Office.
The Club Secretary says he's given up "with a heavy heart", but reading the rest of his resignation statement between the lines and he's saying "but, jeez mate, I've had it up to here with The Board".
The Board is in open warfare between the Balmain and Western Suburbs factions.
The Balmain people accuse the Western Suburbs people of bringing nothing to the table, while the Western Suburbs mob accuse the Balmain mob of doing all they can to ignore and denigrate the proud Magpies legacy.
So the joint-venture is close to fatally fracturing, and the club, as it is, could implode at any moment.
The bush telegraph in the corner of the loungeroon chattered into life late on Friday night.
Tore off the tickertape to reveal a message from the Stats Guru who noted that "South Sydney has not been on top of the rugby league leader board after ten rounds since 1951".
He probably didn't have enough lines left in the telegram to detail how close Balmain have come to the record Tigers' shockers, losing streaks etc etc...signing off with "balmain. stop. shot birds. stop"
At least he had the good sense to acknowledge that you could go on and on about it, but what's the point?
Sheepishly put my head around the door of the Front Bar at The Local on Monday morning to see what was shakin'.
Fortuitously, the Brown Bros weren't in to laugh at me; there were unconfirmed reports that they were seen actually doing some work on the roads for the council.
Half expected to see The Philospher as white as a sheet in his usual corner, but no.
He was in the pink and enjoying a draft of this week's favoured tipple, a Bloody Mary with a stick of cucumber in it, and fixed me with a bead and said "It's not the end of the world, you know, but I did run into Henny Penny up the street on my way to the pub. Haven't seen that weirdo for a while".
Coach Harry has booked the players in for quite a few session down at the Room Full of Mirrors down on the Balmain Rd over the next little while, judging by his comments on interview after the game: "we've got a lot of training and a lot of looking at ourselves to do".
He must be dreading the fact that they have to play at Leichhardt Oval this weekend, even though it's against the FNQ Cowboys, who have never recovered from the '05 Grand Final loss.
What crowd support they get at the Spiritual Home for that, on another interminable infernal Friday night in the current predicament will be very interesting.
You'd think the bleachers would be populated only by lunatics from the nearby Callum Park, and rusted-on die-hards.
Hazily recalled having a miserable day out not so long ago watching the Tigers get towelled up something terrible by the Rabbitohs in similar circumstances.
Turns out it was three years ago, almost to the day:
http://crazycraves.blogspot.com.au/2010_05_16_archive.html
It's worth repeating the last paragraph, as the whole shooting match was as shitful back then, as it is now.
"Would be well served to live out my born days without having to witness and endure in person such a miserable gawdforsaken shocker again."
Enough said.

SOUTH SYDNEY RABBITOHS 54. Tries: Inglis (4), Merritt, Reynolds, Walker, Champion, G.Burgess, S.Burgess. Goals: Reynolds (7), Goodwin (1).
WESTS TIGERS 10. Tries: Koroibete, Fulton. Goals: Sironen (1).
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 19,178.

A bloody draw.
A bloody point would have done, you blokes.
When the game was well in the dillybag, it was the one that got away - big time.
What the?
A most unsatisfactory outcome all round.
No one gets to sing the team song and both sides see it as a failure.
What good is two Premiership points to anyone?
To solve that problem, the side that scores the most goals should win on a count-back, for mine, but that'll never happen.
Of course there are always two ways to look at a draw.
In a hard-scrabble low-scoring game characterised by short kicks and constant scrimmaging, stacks on the mill etc [that would have left anyone unfamiliar with the caper completely perplexed by what on earth was going on] Sydney should've won easily, and for the most part looked like they were doing it in a canter, and yet if Fremantle had had any sort of accuracy in front of goal, they would have romped home.
SC Horse would be pulling great tufts of hair out of his bonce at that conundrum.
He'd also be furious, knowing full well the importance of winning at home.
With the mid-field again garnering all the Brownlow votes, with perhaps a nod to Barlow of the Dockers, how can they let it get away from them like that, with but a single goal in the Champo and outplayed in the Final Stanza?
At the end of the day, the players clearly looked buggered and bitterly disappointed, and they only had themselves to blame.
The Hannberry Kiddie looked particularly downcast given that he'd kicked four dead-set pearlers in a total of eleven, and yet that wasn't enough in the finish.
And who can blame him?
Blame was apportioned by my spy at the ground who reported there were a fair few disgruntled Swans fans pouring out of the ground at full-time who were muttering darkly about that Irishman Tommy Walsh missing everything from 40m out in the denoument, saying things like "not good enough".
Don't want to bore you with all this Gladwellian "tipping point" nonsense that the Stats Guru is enamoured of, but we have probably reached that moment in the silliness.
Essendon in 3rd, Sydney in 4th, and Collingwood in 8th would all be very eager to win over the next fortnight, just in case Hawthorn and Geelong decide to make a break for it at the top.
You'd want to be on the coat tails of that, at the very least.
What's the odds on the Swans falling short of the top four by half a win at the end of the season?
Fairly short, you would have thought.

SYDNEY: 3.0, 7.2, 8.3, 11.4 (70). Goals: Hannebery 4, McGlynn 2, Everitt, Bolton, Jack, Jetta, Pyke.
FREMANTLE: 3.6, 3.8, 5.12, 9.16 (70). Goals: Ballantyne 2, Fyfe 2, Mayne, Johnson, Suban, Duffield, Clarke.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 22,546.

"playing in a dinner suit"

Fellow Freakers,

Not that there was any spy at the ground, but if there was, they would have commented on the Tigers being "pedestrian, ordinary" and "never looked likely".
And yet Balmain did nothing particulary wrong, having locked it up at 6-6 after half-time after an old fashioned arm wrestle.
Found myself out on the back deck for a quick smoke during the break, only to come back in to see the Tiges have three tries put on them in nine minutes after the start of the second half and it was game over.
And all the scoring came off the pin point accuracy of kicks in play from one man, Todd "Farkin" Carney, which were clinically finished off by the Cronulla outside backs.
There is simply no coaching against that.
Reluctantly opened the Saturday morning fish wrap and read the first line of the match report:
"The Wests Tigers have conceded that they are probably at their lowest ebb since the jonit venture began".
Reading on, there was no shortage of named people gnashing their teeth, but there was no attribution for that quote.
Always did like "lowest ebb" as a form of words; it implies that you'll probably end up face down, in a place where you shouldn't, or want to be.
The blowie journo hovering about the dead carcass had obviously been talking "off the record" with The Club Secretary in some dodgy bar on the Balmain Rd to get that official dire admission.
Oh dear.
Coach Harry must be at the end of his tether trying to see a way out of the abyss, while you'd think SC Sheens would be thanking his lucky stars that he was moved on at the end of last seasonn so he can no longer be held responsible for the ignonimity, while the Club Secretary is undoubtedly apoplectic.
When you are fielding a way below full strength team covered in band-aids, with half the side too young and too inexperienced to really be playing with the big boys in first grade, what is the coach expected to do?
Where is he meant to go from there?
The most astonishing thing about the week was the fact that at a time when the Tiges can barely field a fully fit team, they let a player go, in the form of Young Jacob Miller.
Miller expressed some doubt that he'd ever be able to break into and cement a spot in first grade and the club tended to agree.
While he has all the skills in the world, he's too small, too slight, and a yard too slow to compete with the monsters going around in the NRL, so they concluded he'd be better off in the dark satanic mills of northern England, where the game is played at a more leisurely pace, so he was packed off on the mid-week flight to Hull RLFC.
Gor' Blimey.
Never mind what the fans think - they've already voted with their feet with a woeful attendance - the official number through the turnstiles surely must've been inflated even to get that many in.
On the wide shot on the telly, it looked like there was no-one there in a stadium that seats 40,000...you would have struggled to spot The Man and His Dog on the bleachers.
The Stats Guru noted that the Tiges were on a hiding to nothing after coming into the match on the back of a reverse purple patch [ie five losses in a row], so now make that six.
A seventh loss on the trot this Friday night to South Sydney, who are a mighty chance of making the Grand Final on current form, would represent the worst losing streak since 2000.
Might thave to factor in the possibilty of the lowest ebb getting lower.
No idea who ghost writes his regular column in the Sunday fishwrap, but whoever it is gives the Great Benji Marshall a nice turn of phrase.
Benji was highly critical of himself...admitting he failed to adequately lead the backs, was too timid in attack, not robust enough in defence, shied away from hard tackles, his kicking game was entirely ineffective and he was generally rubbish throughout; summing it by saying "it felt like I was playing in a dinner suit".
He might as well have added "while balancing a tray of Martini's".
Stone motherless last on the competition ladder with a third of the season already gorn.
You don't need to get the abacus out to tell you...
All hope is lost.

WESTS TIGERS 6. Tries: Utai. Goals: Sironen (1).
CRONULLA-SUTHERLAND SHARKS 30. Tries: Feki (2), Fifita, Robson, Bukuya. Goals: Gordon (5).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 9,858.

Swans spanked.
Simple as that.
Remind me.
From which end of the MCG does the Fat Lady sing at quarter time, when the away side has had five goals to one kicked on them?
No matter how hard the likes of In Like McGlynn, Son of Gary, Odd Head, the Mad Canadian and JP Kennedy tried, there was simply no way through that defence.
It looks like Hawthorn, after losing last year's Grand Final, have taken a leaf out of Sydney's book and put a very high premium on the value of defence.
They locked down the Swans forwards man-on-man, giving the mid-field nothing to aim at, let alone any easy targets, and routinely put a loose man or two into the Sydney backline.
The Swans beaten by a team that's pinched their blueprint without shame, and shown up by a another very good side, just as predicted after the Geelong game.
After failing the initial litmus test, SC Horse must be scratching his head and twirling his quiff thinking "how do you combat being done in by yr own game?"
A fair conundrum, that.
The Swans can ill-afford to be shuffled out of the top four at this stage of the season, which they've just been at five and two and on a fraction of a percentage, into fifth spot on the ladder.
You'd hope Longmire is sensible enough not to be sucked into the trap of being in fear of the fear of not winning, but he'd know all about the utmost importance of winning away, especially at the MCG, where as you'll remember there was a long running hoo-doo going on before the Premiership Triumph.
Winning at home is a given, which makes me wonder if the wrong rein has been pulled with my purchase last week of tickets to the cheap seats in the dinky little temporary stand in the shadow of the construction site at the SCG for the almost- sold-out game against Essendon, now known over time as Marn Grook, in a few weeks?
You can only hope not.
Nah, bugger pessimism, she'll be right Jack; the Bombers are beatable with the right approach.
Just ask Geelong, they'll tell ya.
In the meantime, they've got some work to do with the flip-chart markers.
They're fit enough, but need to be getting smarter on the training track.
Ended up not watching much of this one after the opening stanza more or less put paid to the end result, favouring the double episode finale of Lillyhammer on SBS instead.
Norwegians are funny people.
Tuned in during the ad breaks, and after the show...just in time to hear the Hawthorn team song sung...without doubt the worst in the leauge, and that's saying something in the company of some tuneless shockers.
No one needs to put up with that.
Click.

HAWTHORN: 5.3, 11.3, 14.6, 18.11 (119). Goals: Roughead 4, Hale 3, Gunston 3, Franklin 3, Breust, Hodge, Bailey, Osborne, Burgoyne.
SYDNEY: 1.4, 4.5, 7.7, 12.10 (82). Goals: McGlynn 2, Kennedy 2, O'Keefe 2, Goodes, Bolton, Lamb, White, Parker, Pyke.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 54,725.

the scoreboard never lies

Bacardi Breezers,

After having a look at the official Tuesday team lists for the weekend round and seeing blokes no-one has ever heard of on the bench for the Wests Tigers, with Sick Bay full, decided to eschew the Friday night game against Canterbury-Bankstown in favour of Adrian Edmonson, ex The Young Ones, singing and playing punk classics on folk instruments with his trio.
Adrian on vocals & mandolins, a fabulous fiddle player who used a violin and a viola, and the other bloke on two kinds of fife and a set of Irish bagpipes.
Strange but true, and an absolute sensation...you had to be there...
So never saw a frame of the match and in no position to comment, but the scoreboard never lies, does it?
Opened the Saturday morning fishwrap and started reading the match report headlined "Bulldogs Destroy Tigers", but closed the paper after coming to the line that said something about "woefully inadequate".
The Stats Guru found it his melancholy duty to report the worst result ever; the biggest thrashing handed out by Canterbury to the Mighty Tiges since the Balmain-Western Suburbs joint-venture started in 2000.
No one has any idea why they pulled The Great Benji Marshall out of rehab to play, given that his bung toe reportedly led to him having "no impact on the game"; apparently he just managed to hobble about looking disgruntled.
Even looking at the still photographs of the game, and you can see team morale is a problem...a lot of heads down, looking at the turf, knowing full well that something's up and it's coming to get them.
Coach Harry, through no real fault of his own in his debut season as a parachuted-in senior coach, now finds himself in a bit of a pickle, with a buggered roster and a Club Secretary breathing down his neck after getting the back-office abacus out and shuffling the beads this way and that only to reveal his worst nightmare - the projected gate reciepts falling well short of budget, as the notoriously fickle fans fade away.
How else is he expected to pay for the hospital-strength brandy?
The crowd for this one was only as good as it was on account of the Bulldogs Marketing Dept - who found themselves in a similar situation on the ladder - decided, not out of the goodness of their own hearts but rather economic pragmatism, to give away ridiculously cheap family tickets to boost the numbers through the gate.
As a result, it was one of the rare occasions when the league game just shaded the Swans game in attendance, this time to the tune of just 138 punters.
The Balmain Marketing Dept should take their lead and think of something smart to sell tickets with a string of Friday night games coming up; people will be reluctant to go to see the Tiges play at full-price in their current predicament, when you can put your feet up on the pouf in front of the winter fire in the comfort of yr own home and watch the game, if you could be bothered, live on the free-to-air telly.
Joisus.
They're in more trouble than the early settlers.

CANTERBURY-BANKSTOWN BULLDOGS 40. Tries: Perrett (2), Brown, Ennis, Lafai, Reynolds, Williams. Goals: Hodkinson (6).
WESTS TIGERS 4. Tries: Tedesco.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 23,453.

Another sparkling day in the Emerald City for a leisurely Sunday afternoon stroll in the park.
Giving Brisvegas a ten goal football lesson while yr at it will do nicely.
It's not often that the Fat Lady starts singing from the Paddington End at quarter time, and from then on in it was just a matter of holding station and making sure that nothing got away from you.
The Bamfords, in "Umpires Appreciation Week" had the good sense to keep a very low profile in the game, and would have shovelled all the Brownlow points on the Swans mid-field.
Take yr pick.
The Hanneberry Kiddie, Rhino Keefe, Son of Gary, The New Train Jetta, Smiffy, Parker...all played well.
Pleasing to see The Goodes Train and his apprentice back on song - the team'll need that over the next little while - the backs had little to do, there's nothing wrong in the ruck, and while the sight of Sam Reid, living with the spectre of Tipsy, desperately trying to find form with three goals might not be edifying - who can blame him?
Goals is goals, aint they?
Nice to see Odd Head McVeigh chaired off the ground after playing in his 200th.
A scholar and a gentleman and an ornament to the game.
Apparently the only regret he has is never being able to play with his brother, who's appeared in more games than he has in senior football, over all that time.
At the other end of the scale, did like the huge smile on the Kid Lamb's dial when he came off at the end of the match having been made the substitute, and subbed on in the last quarter in his first AFL appearance.
Just ecstatic that he'd actually made the grade.
It's hard to reconcile the annual Bamford's appreciation nonsense, after teaching yr children the three mantra's of good barracking; always support and encourage yr own players, never unduly criticise the opposition players for no good reason, and bag the umpires without mercy.
Both the girls have inherited fine booming voices, and have turned out to be exemplary Bleachermen when they choose to be at the match.
SC Horse at Smoko on Monday morning would have been happy enough with the look of the curl of smoke from his cigarello, but would have been casting a glance down south to Mexico way, with a nod to the Wild West, in full knowledge that the next month is a crucial litmus test before mid-season when you look at the four games to come in terms of current ladder positions and home ground advantage: 4th.Sydney v 5th.Hawthorn (a), 6th.Fremantle (h), 7th.Collingwood (a), 1st.Essendon (h), and the following week is the start of the utterly insane double road trip to Adelbrain.
Good thing it's not enough to do SC Longmire's head in, because it certainly does mine.

SYDNEY: 7.4, 10.8, 13.11, 17.13 (115). Goals: Reid 3, Bolton 2, Pyke 2, Goodes 2, Jetta 2, McGlynn, Parker, O'Keefe, McVeigh, Kennedy, Hannebery.
BRISBANE: 1.0, 4.2, 5.5, 8.7 (55). Goals: Green 2, Brown, Zorko, Leuenberger, Hanley, Redden, Lester.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 23,315.

you can't gild the lily

Sculptors,

Who knows what the Ol' Wellingtonians would have thought of that.
Especially the first half when both sides were trying to cope with the greasy ball in the unusual New Zealand dew.
It was as if the pill was smeared with Nut Brown Kiwi Boot Polish.
Someone would have tried to explain to them the phrase "stacks on the mill" but it would probably have been lost in translation, and gone straight through to the 'keeper.
Still, being born as they are into the rugby union religion, in a land where rugby league is almost unknown, except in far northern parts, and Australian Football entirely foreign, they would be well acquainted with the scrimmage [of which there were plenty], the ruck work reminicent of the line-out, the goal-kicking, and the general carry on, but there would have been far too many offsides and knock-on's for their liking and they would have been perplexed by the seeming complete absence of any discernable rules, and laughed at the sight of the Bamford's running around in circles and blowing their whistles willy-nilly with no apparent ryhmn or reason.
The boundary umpires running backwards like raw prawns would have amused the Kiwi's no end.
Typically Strayan, those on the bleachers would have mused.
And what about the last quarter when the Swans were quite content to sit on the football and run down the clock, and just win by enough?
How is the concept of "sitting on the football" explained to all but keen students of the game?
No doubt any Wellingtonians, who were prepared to listen, would have been instructed in the utmost importance of the Championship Quarter, but they may have had trouble understanding "ah well, it all comes down to The Champo, as usual".
What's usual, they would have asked?
Looking at the scoreboard would have been no help.
Not exactly a grand exhibition of the skills of the Australian game by any measure in the inuagral international for serious points.
While the Hannebery Kiddie was rightly gonged with the What's His Name Again? Medal; in the shadow of the Tipsy brouhaha, special mention should be made of that other Adelaide Crows turncoat - The Childe Armstrong.
Put up a sterling show and did everything right throughout, for mine.
Most likely Best on Ground, even if no one agrees with me.
And with his mop-top hair-do he's obviously going to a better barber than Mummy, who now looks like a 70's porn star with spectacular mutton chops, or The Great Malceski, whose hair appears to have ungergone Electro-Convulsive Shock Therapy.
Teddy Richards, JPK, In Like McGlynn et al were just very good, as usual, and yet they go unsung for the most part.
Interesting that the Jetta Kiddie was made subsitute and only came on in the last quarter in case they needed fresh legs, and The Train hasn't exactly been on fire since the start of the season.
Is something wrong there?
No idea.
At Friday morning smoko at some private thermal blow-hole in Wellington, SC Horse would have cast his gaze back across the Tasman in the opposite direction and thought to himself "Aw well, what more do they want? Won ugly in a pretty little city. Take that anyday".
Doubt that the locals would have cottoned on to St Kilda's glaringly obviously problem - three superstar players in a weak side - fielding five players with less than five senior games each and "missing a whole age group" - screams of a major rebuilding project.
The Swans, of course, have no such problem, playing a team of Premiership players, bar two or three.
But they will have to be a bit more careful and a bit more wily to win against the really good sides to come, on that showing.
You have to like the trophy they played for - a small bronze of Simpson on his donkey - known as The Dodgy Donk.
That's after Simpson was recently exposed as a fraud; never happened, no heroics, figment of the collective imagination.
Obviously of little interest to the trophy makers, who would've cast the thing months ago, and weren't to know, then.
Is it The Perpetual Donk?
Who knows?
Yet another mystery.

ST KILDA: 3.1, 5.3, 6.6, 9.9 (63). Goals: Riewoldt 2, Montagna 2, Koschitzke, Ross, Dennis-Lane, Geary, Steven.
SYDNEY: 3.3, 6.7, 9.13, 11.13 (79). Goals: McGlynn 2, Parker 2, Kennedy, Richards, McVeigh, Bolton, Goodes, Jack, Mumford.
At Wellington Regional Stadium, New Zealand.
Crowd: 22,546.


Never did see a frame of this game.
And a good thing too, by all reports.
They say the highlights reel wasn't really worth watching.
Had much better things to do on a pearler of a day in the Emerald City, being blinded by the sparkle off the superlative water views from the beer garden of the Newport Arms Hotel.
Got home just in time to hear the radio summary of the day's play with the two commentators chatting idly amongst themselves running the program up to the top of the clock.
Said something about the first half being "riddled with errors and penalties", a "penaltyathon" was mentioned, and the second half was best described as "let's face it, very shabby football from both sides" before they came to the conclusion "well, you can't gild the lily - a terrible game of football".
That's enough for me.
Not to mention the horror injury toll Balmain had; Young Timmy Moltzen - perhaps the best utility back in the team - hobbled off with a season-ending knee that'll require a full ACL reconstruction, the Ayshford Kiddie gorn with just minutes left on the clock with a suspected broken leg, just above the ankle - anyone would struggle to come back from that; just ask Taniela Tuiaki, he'll tell you.
And then there's Chris "The Try Scoring Freak" Lawrence unable to complete the match after picking up a hammy of indeterminate severity, but it doesn't look good.
Of course Anasta has a groin, won't play for a while, The Great Benji's toe doesn't get any better, and Tuqiri might as well resign himself to retiring from a glittering career cruelled by injury.
In the end, Wests played the back half of the last half a man down on the bench, and in the end contrived to clear the bench and then some, and could only field 12 players for the last six minutes of the game.
Joisus.
Good luck, Coach Harry, in trying to find 13 fit players required to fill a rugby league team, let alone another four reserves, for next week.
There's not much happening in Reserve Grade by all accounts, with the exception of Jacob Miller, that would mandate a step-up to First Grade under normal circumstances, and anyone in the U21's are still just children, who'd be like lambs to the slaughter in the big league.
So where to now?
There is no doubt the Mighty Tiges have lost their way - it's as plain as day for all to see - but you'd have to fear the Coach doesn't have a Plan B.
Never mind that the nurses in Sick Bay will soon be telling anyone else who requests admission: "fark off! we're full!"
Coach has to factor that possibilty into the roster and try to take out catastrophic injury insurance if you can, which Balmain clearly hasn't.
The premiums can't be all that exorbidant, surely?
When it's all said and done, someone has to say it in the current state of affairs...
Season Over.
Oh, the horror!
The Philosopher was right.
For the legion of Wests Tigers fans - and, believe me, we are everywhere - It's going to be a very, very long season.

WESTS TIGERS 10. Tries: Spence, Utai. Goals: Sironen (1).
BRISBANE BRONCOS 20. Tries: Gillett (2), Hodges, Norman. Goals: Parker (1), Prince (1).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 11,547.