September starts now

Fellow Hopefuls,

So, after being towelled up last week, the Swans give the Saints a ten goal football lesson.
Of course the Melbourne commentators on the crystal bucket - who jump at every chance to take down Sydney - kept on saying that the Saints were giving them a real good run for their money, when it was clear to anyone having even a casual look at the thing that the floodgates were going to open after half time.
A seven goals to one Championship Quarter certainly shut them up good and proper.
Did like Tipsy being subbed off in the last quarter having been told by the coach "five goals will do, son".
Tippet was aghast after they popped the bib and the fluffy dressing gown on him and he sat down on the bench, only to have Rick Shaw give him a big cuddle and a few licks on the ear before sticking his tongue down his shell-like.
Kurt wasn't expecting, or wanting, that kind of affection from a team mate who is patently as mad as a hatter.
He got subbed out in favour of Gary Rohan, an old fashioned name playing in his first match in 400+ days since busting his tib and fib just above the ankle in a horrific shocker.
It's the very same injury as mine, which is now 26 years old, and it doesn't get any better over time, let me tell you.
A miracle of modern medicine that he actually got back on the park after such a long, long, time in agony.
Unlike the Wests Tigers winger Taniela Tuiaki - an explosive player who could beat Usain Bolt over 20 metres who had a ton of promise and could have been anything - until he broke his lower leg in multiple places in the exact same place.
Taniela never came back, and now walks with a limp and stick, just like me, relying on handouts from the Injured Players Benevolent Fund.
Fortunately, the bloke does have one string to his bow in his retirement - he knows how to cook a whole pig over charcoal like no one else.
So he remains the caterer of choice among the South Sea Islander lads across the league, and as a result has many friends to look after him, also.
Can feel for those blokes.
It goes without saying that the Swans' September starts now.
When a mate of mine realised they were playing Geelong away this weekend he said "as you well know, Craves, Kardinia Park is no place for humans".
The fool who took me to the gawd forsaken joint six years ago now for one of the worst experiences of my entire life, goaded me by inviting me back there this weekend.
He called me an utter whimp when the invitation was declined.
Joisus, just like last time, ice would form on the collar of my jacket as the sleet comes in off Corio Bay on a gale, my balls would shrink to the size of sultanas and disappear up my sphincter that's just contracted to the size of a pinhead, all the time expecting death from exposure was imminent.
And that wouldn't be the worst of it.
That's not even mentioning the endless indignities that the mongrel Cats fans would subject me to; all for no good purpose.
Winning in such a hell hole isn't easy as the place seems to torment visiting players for some unknown reason, but the Swans do have a little form down that way over the years; unlike every other team who routinely get beaten there by the side that has by far the best winning streak at home of any club in the caper, ever.
The Stats Guru is being driven out of his mind by the number of combinations of abacus beads, and is left wondering exactly what the finals strategic plan actually is, but reckons you can leave that in the capable hands of SC Horse, who worked the numbers brilliantly at this time last year.
The fact that Sydney have the best percentage in the comp by a whisker and the issue of the two premiership points due to the draw against Fremantle, only go to complicate the matter at hand.
But you have to be confident that the best football brains are on to it, and you can only rest on the hope that early spring will be fruitful.
Someone, forget who it was, reminded me this week that it's best not to get ahead of yourself.

SYDNEY: 2.3, 6.6, 13.9, 18.10 (118). Goals: Tippett 5, White 3, McGlynn 2, Bolton 2, Lamb 2, K. Jack 2, Pyke 2.
ST KILDA: 2.3, 4.4, 5.6, 8.11 (59). Goals: Steven 2, Riewoldt 2, Minchington, Curren, Hickey, Lee.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 26,730

Finding myself otherwised engaged on Monday night, never did see a single frame of this game, even by accident on the newsreels.
Very good thing too.
A complete schemozzle by all acounts.
As my spy in the miserable crowd of dead set lunatics who were fool enough to turn up to the ground telegraphed through after half time: "the Lord is working overtime to try to help us - but, all to no avail".
After the match there was talk among some die-hard loyalists that the Great Benji Marshall should just be dropped forthwith, given that he is way past caring.
Reliable reports suggest he did nothing in the entire game, just lurked in the backline like a bad smell, refused to allow himself to be tackled, and so hardly touched the ball.
Well, sorry folks, him being dropped aint going to happen.
No matter what.
That was his 197th game for Balmain.
So, barring injury, he will play his 200th in the last game of the regular season and be admitted to the Balmain Pantheon as one of the all time greats, before he scurries out the back door to greener pastures on the other side of the Tasman, where rugby union is a religion and rugby league is a mere sideshow, crying "thanks for all the fish!"
It's Dark Days indeed in Tigertown.
Unless they can wisely spend the million bucks they'll save by letting Benji walk, the days in the wilderness will last for many a year.
They could do without the mistakes of the recent past and not try to buy the worst team money can buy, and invest the clams instead in the Yoof of Today.
And that doesn't even take into account the fact that there's no more cash coming down the chute from Campbelltown any more, and the old Balmain Leagues Club just off the Balmain Rd, close to the Room Full Of Mirrors, in Rozelle is long demolished and nothing's been built in it's place, so there's no income from the pokies.
That can only mean that money will be too tight to mention.
Worse still, there seems to be no-one at all who is remotely capable of leading the Grand Old Club to The Light on The Hill.
In fact, there is no Light on The Hill in the short-to-medium term.
Swung by the Front Bar at The Local on Tuesday morning, and it was business as usual.
The weekend's football had been forgotten.
Found The Philosopher in his normal corner, rustling the political pages of the paper, with a look of resigned indifference.
He saw me, pushed his spectacles down to the tip of his nose, took a bite out of the stick of bitter cucumber that was standing up in his Bloody Mary and said "looks like the Glory Days have well and truly gone away".
And just left it there.
That's all she wrote, so what's more to say?

SYDNEY ROOSTERS 56. Tries: Jennings (2), Mortimer (2), Pearce (2), Friend, Tupou, Williams. Goals: Maloney (10).
WESTS TIGERS 14. Tries: Sironen, Tedesco, Tuqiri. Goals: Marshall (1).
At Sydney Football Stadium.
Crowd: 8,393.

snatching defeat from the jaws of victory

Frustratees,

This is becoming very painful indeed.
The veterans in the side played well, but the young blokes really didn't have much of a clue in the big league, and who can blame them?
It looked for all the world like Balmain would win for a change, right up to the last minute when they were still in front and then, lo and behold, they somehow conjoured up letting the Eeels go in for a try with just seconds left on the clock.
A classic case of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, if ever there was one.
And does anyone need reminding that Parramatta is running Stone Motherless Last in the competition?
Nobody, not even the Stats Guru, dares to look at the length of the losing streak now, given there is no point in it.
Everyone, from the new Board down to the lowliest, down-and-out supporter, is clutching at straws.
And of course, there is no shortage of scapegoats.
The Club Secretary walked out the door mid-season saying he was just fed up with everything, had it up to here, and was simply sick of it.
Then they put in an interim CEO who appears to have next to no idea.
So it was down to him to announce a "structural review" of the Football Dept.
After the Western Suburbs Magpies deserted the sinking ship, it seems the new Board wants to throw its weight around.
And so they let go no less than three Assistant Coaches last week, including SC Simmons.
Why you would sack a bloke like Roycie is simply beyond belief.
Utterly unfathomable.
Let's face it, the bloke is a premiership winning coach in his own right, and has a huge football brain - one of the biggest in living memory.
Never mind that no one really knows what Mr Simmons does for a job, apart from the fact that he is the best Welfare Officer that any club could ever have.
He's never been his biggest spokesman, that's for sure - given that he can't string a meaningful sentence together on interview, which have always been rare on account of appearing in the media is not his long suit.
He's prefered for many years now to stay in the shadows, and out of the spotlight.
Roycie takes it upon himself to look after the player's off-field interests; to make sure they learn to read and write, not spend their money hand over fist, that everything is all good in their home-lives, that they're emotionally stable in their love-lives, tries look after any drug freaks, problem drinkers, and other sundry miscreants, and makes it his business to keep their names out of the papers at all costs.
In all the time Simmons has been at Balmain in his two stints at the club, don't know that any player has ever been reported in the fishwraps for misbehaving in public, let alone becoming known to police.
So what on earth is going on??
Say it again, just insane to let go someone who's worth his weight in gold.
Complete madness.
SC Simmons' only crime appears to be that he has been a very close mate of SC Sheens, which is not de rigour at the club anymore, given that the former long time coach still draws a salary from the Tigers on the basis of the "barbed necklace agreement", and he needs to do nothing for it, except sit back in his Jason Recliner and say "See, I told you so".
And now there's talk that Coach Harry might be shown the door after just one season in the top job.
Not that much of it has been his fault.
How do you deal with a horror injury toll early in the season, a club wracked by infighting and instablity beyong your control, your Number One Player of the last ten years deciding to walk and switch codes to the Auckland Blues Rugby Union Club, letting quite a few underperformers go to the English League comp through the year, and you still end up with a mob of players who don't care anymore in end?
You sack the coach, apparently.
Not immediately but inevitably, as surely the "structural review" puts him in an untenable position.
If all that sad and sorry tale of woe is not bad enough, by a quirk of programming, the same bunch of blokes are now asked to play Eastern Suburbs, who have just gone top after a large purple patch, this Monday night at what will be a deserted, wind-swept and gawd-forsaken Sydney Football Stadium.
Lord, help us.

PARRAMATTA EELS 26. Tries: Toutai (2), Mullaney, Paulo, Sio. Goals: Paulo (2), Mullaney (1).
WESTS TIGERS 22. Tries: Koroibete (2), Nofoaluma, Simona. Tries: Marshall (3).
At Parramatta Stadium.
Crowd: 12,013.


The Stats Guru has been on the telephone, with alarming news.
He reckons he's been giving the abacus bit of a whirr, and the beads are telling him that in the space of a week, the Swans have gone from being a chance of going top through no fault of their own, to a point where the Minor Premiership is now all but unattainable, and what's more, they are in clear and present danger of missing the top four altogether, given the teams behind them coming up their runter have much easier runs home, and Sydney has to play the top two teams before season's end.
It wasn't the game they wanted to throw.
No sireee.
Plenty can be discerned by the fact that Tipsy kicked six for the second week running, but they still lost by a fair margin, with only another four goal kickers, when they can usually boast blokes who put it through the big sticks in the double figures.
There were a few Sydney players in front of the centre square, who shall remain nameless, who were found out, and you are never going to win if you get stonkered by six goals against you in the Championship Quarter in a low scoring match.
No doubt Coach Horse would still be preoccupied in his waking hours with the central question of who is his best team?
Wouldn't be surprised if he dreams about it, also.
Despite being squashed by Collingwood, Longmire would be well aware that if he can come up with the definitive answer to that one, then they are of course in with a damn good chance of going a long way in September.
Teddy Richard's played in his 200th.
200, eh?
Fancy that.
There's no doubting Teddy is a strange insect, and he'd have to give the Ugliest Man in Football a good run for his money for the title, but in any case would be a clear runner up.
And just like LRT, he'd be as astonished as anyone that he's played that many games.
Never ever seen Richards smile on a football field, ever.
He has that autonomon, lockjaw look on his alien-like face down pat.
Despite the visage, he's apparently a very jovial chap who is well regarded as an outstanding clubman; always looking out for his mates and happy to help out with the kiddies.
Just don't mention the Marty Feldman eyes.
Teddy would be completely unaware that he's probably first picked most weeks; he's the sort of backman any club would die to have.
He's the kind of player who digs trenches across a line somewhere between half back and full back and puts up barbed wire entanglements in the back pockets and says to the opposition blokes "now, try getting the ball through that", before he kicks the grenade back into their lines.
Richards is probably the best backline reader of the in-coming ball in-flight in the modern game, a superb mark, and a master of the spoil, with black belt.
And yet he's flown under the radar for his entire career.
It wasn't for nothing that he was picked across the half back line in last season's All Australian Team, and that without ever rating a single mention in the Melbourne papers.
Ted Richards - a scholar and a gentleman, and an ornament to the game.
All power to his oars.

SYDNEY: 4.4, 5.9, 9.10, 10.11 (71). Goals: Tippett 6, Bolton, Kennedy, K.Jack, Shaw.
COLLINGWOOD: 2.4, 6.6, 12.10, 14.16 (100). Goals: Elliott 3, Reid 2, Thomas 2, Sidebottom 2, Cloke 2, Grundy, O'Brien, Pendlebury.
At Olympic Stadium, Homebush.
Crowd: 42,627.

run over by a Flinders St tram

Supreme Optimists,

The Sydney juggernaut continues to roll on.
And why shouldn't it?
That's a purple patch right there - five wins on the trot.
They're playing even better than they were at this time last year, and we all know what happened from there.
SC Roos certainly thinks so on the television commentary, and for one famous for over-analysing the game, you'd have to trust his judgement.
And doesn't Sydney love a winner?
Before the opening bounce, my spy at the ground pushed through a telegraph message: "Jesus! The joint is jumpin'. The place is brimmers!".
Don't know how they could fit in that many people in a ground under renovation - some creative accounting at the turnstiles, no doubt - but hey, it was as full as a boot for the first time this season.
The two games to come out at Cathy Freeman Stadium at Homebush should attract fair whopping crowds.
In a game in which the "best" line in the scorebox in the fishwraps should've read "All Played Well", Jesse White would have had to have been Best on Ground for mine.
And this, from a bloke who wasn't even really considered for first grade in the early part of the season, but saw the door left ajar by injury, and barged on through to the senior ranks in a first-rate team.
On that showing, he'd be hard to drop, and people like Sam Reid will find it difficult to get a game when they emerge from Sick Bay, in a side bristling with in-form talls.
Opposition coaches must be as worried as hell thinking what on earth they can do about the likes of the "Mad Canadian" Moike Poike, not to mention Spida Jnr, and then there's Mummy, who's having a bit of a rest.
And then there's Tippett.
Interesting to note that Longmire decided to play Tipsy across the half forward line this week, even poking up as far as the wings, so he could drift down the ground into the forward pocket, as required.
Tipsy found it to his favour with all of his goals coming from snaps.
Tippett's contract no doubt has a clause in it that would say "must kick goals every week", so if he can boot three a week, week in, week out, he'd be fulfilling his side of the bargain, and would be well worth having in the side.
It seems the strange insect has been told by the "Sydney culture" that there's no need to be a show pony in this town...just shut up, do what yr told, and get on with the job.
SC Horse would no doubt be saying on interview "we're just taking it one game at a time", but surely in reality he must be poring over the well-worn gin-soaked plans as he gets deep into strategic thinking for the finals.
The Boss's main problem is deciding on who makes up his best side, which is a very good place to be.
With West Bullies (a), the now deliciously easy-beat Collingwood (h), and St Kilda (h) to come; the brains trust can then play ducks and drakes with Geelong (a) and Hawthorn (h) to finish regular home-and-away, prepared to do what they did last year and throw a game if needs be to get the optimum place on the table now that top four's seemingly assured, bar a catastrophic derailment.
A dream run really, an elegant repeat of the season previous, when you have the wins and the percentage to position yourself just as you bloody well please.
Longmire might as well just bow down in the last game of the season, let the Hawthorn win at a leasurely pace, save his players legs, and then say to the Hawks "won't have to see you again until the Grand Final".
After all, even with the Swans on a roll, it seems like Hawthorn will win the premiership with ease, by the looks of way they destroyed the drug-addled Essendon side on the weekend.
Might as well give them the flag now, and just go home and forget about it.
But, you never know...Buddy might be run over by a Flinders St tram...
Pigs might fly, the sky could fall in, and Sydney could pinch The Flag while no one's looking, again.
Stranger things have happened.

SYDNEY: 5.3, 8.7, 13.10, 16.14 (110). Goals: J.White 4, Tippett 3, Mitchell 2, K. Jack 2, Lamb, B. Jack, Pyke, Smith, Bolton.
RICHMOND: 5.3, 6.4, 8.7, 9.9 (63). Goals: Riewoldt 3, Martin 2, Conca, Jackson, Vickery, M.White.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 29,738.


Another Monday night, and another night pottering about in Dad's Shed with the wacky MMM radio call coming in loud and clear on the shortwave all the way from Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Shouldn't have bothered to even switch on the crystal set in the first place, really.
Yet another one of those tawdry, miserable, and oh-so-predictable affairs.
And that's not even counting the sheer shitfulness of losing to Manly - at home, no less.
Out muscled, outplayed, outsmarted.
Simple as that.
You've got to feel sorry for poor old Robbie Farah playing in his 200th game for Balmain.
Playing on a ground he doesn't particularly like, and through no fault fo his own, The Best Leb in the Game finds himself captaining a team of try-hard B-graders that's simply not up to standard, is not of his choosing, and who just can't cut the mustard this season because of the unfortunate set of circumstances what with the horror injury toll and all, not to mention general instability from the board and executive down.
That, in his 200th.
Oh dear.
Here's a bloke who's just been admitted to the Balmain Pantheon along with all the other greats, living and dead, has won a premiership, covered himself in medals and laurels throughout his glittering career, and as if to just put the fruit on the sideboard in the denoument of his playing days, has represented New South Wales in all three State-of-Origin games this season.
He was nothing left to prove in the caper.
Robbie Farah; a scholar and a gentleman, and an ornament to the game.
And then there was Liam Fulton in his 150th game.
A bloke who has never got so much as an an inch of newsprint in his entire career; just one of those old-fashioned no-nonsense tradesman-like forwards who goes about his business and gets the job done week in week out, year after year.
He considers himself very fortunate to have made a nice tidy living out of a thing he loves doing for such a long time, without coming to the attention of the authorities, let alone anyone else.
Don't think Fulton has ever been the subject of interview; can't actually remember the last time he spoke in public with his own lips, if he ever has.
No idea what his voice sounds like.
Then there's the third and only other survivor from the 05 Miracle Year Grand Final still playing for Balmain - the Great Benji Marshall.
Obviously his heart is not in it, and he just can't wait for the season to end.
You'd have to wonder if Benj has burnt his bridges too early - announcing that the Tigers offer wasn't big enough or long enough and he would walk away from rugby league into the loving arms of rugby union.
Only problem is the rugby union clubs of both sides of the Tasman aren't exactly queueing up to hire him at the right money.
No other club in league would want him, and there's now no going back at Leichhardt given that he's decided to quit the club in such an undignified fashion - to go where?
The back of the long snaking line at Centrelink?
Oddly, its the first time Manly have played at Campbelltown in 15 yaers.
That suggests that perhaps the Silvertails haven't been exactly welcome in that part of town.
And who can blame the Western Suburbs Magpies for that, given their history?
Apart from being beaten by Canterbury, there is nothing worse in world sport than being towelled up by Manly.
The Stats Guru was ambivalent last week about the plain fact that given the log jam that is the middle of the NRL table, the Tigers still had a mathematical chance of making the top eight, but in stark reality were more likely to carry off the wooden spoon.
No word on what yet another loss means, apart from obvious oblivion.
Found myself stumbling in through the doors at the Front Bar at The Local having not dared to put my head in there in the last week on account of being dusted by the Worriers the week previous.
That would have just been an invitation to be being ridiculed and laughed at by the Brown Bros.
Found The Philosopher in his usual corner nursing this week's favoured tipple, squinting at the political pages in the paper with a puzzled brow.
On inquiry of the young barmaid about what he was having, she told me she'd already lectured him on the inappropriateness of the Manhattan as a breakfast drink, but she said he wouldn't be told, and it wasn't worth arguing the toss.
Mentioned the word "Tigers" on approach, but the Prof put his hand up as if to stop me continuing and just shook is head, rolled his eyes and said "Yes, but I've seen worse".
Which begged the question "when?", but there was no point in asking.

WESTS TIGERS 18. Tries: Nofoaluma, Farah, Simona. Goals: Marshall (3).
MANLY-WARRINGAH SEA EAGLES 36. Tries: Lyon (2), Horo (2), Matai, Cherry-Evans. Goals: Lyon (6).
At Campbelltown Sports Ground.
Crowd: 11,162.

for the sake of completeness

A death in the family will preclude comment this week.
It is, after all, only a game.
For the sake of completeness, the scoreboxes are included:

WESTS TIGERS 14. Tries: Lawrence, Nofoaluma, Simona. Goals: Marshall (1).
NEW ZEALAND WARRIORS 24. Tries: Johnson (2), Hurrell, Mannering. Goals: Johnson (4).
At Leichhardt Oval.
Crowd: 11,436.

WEST COAST: 3.4, 5.6, 6.8, 11.13 (79). Goals: Kennedy 4, Dalziell, Cox, Wellingham, Morton, Darling, Naitanui, Masten.
SYDNEY: 4.4, 10.8, 12.9, 17.11 (113). Goals: Tippett 3, Pyke 2, Lamb 2, Jack 2, Hannebery 2, White, Kennedy, Parker, Bolton, Mumford, Jack.
At Subiaco Oval.
Crowd: 35,166.

a Pup, blind Bamfords, cheatin' Poms, and a Cancer

Fellow disappointees,

Everyone knows that MJ Clarke is a dreadful fidgeter at the crease, but some close up camera work from the Trent Bridge test match shows him up to have an even worse obsession with preening himself in the field as he gets older.
Spends his whole time in the slips, when the ball isn't in play, constantly rearraging himself; the hat, the sunnies, the shirt collar, the buttons and sleeves are endlessly adjusted as if you say "now, do, I look a million dollars, or what?"
Scratching his upper lip where his moustache would be if he had one when he's thinking hard about the state of the game is an interesting new affectation.
Hardly anything to fault in his captaincy, apart from a self-admitted dumb use of the dreaded DRS, especially trying to save his own bacon from being given out caught behind in the second innings.
Surely any batsman would know if he's tickled it through to the keeper; just ask that miserable turd Broad, he'll tell you.
In contrast, Pup's contribution with the bat was poor, by any estimation.
A finely-crafted six-ball duck before being bowled neck and crop in the first innings, and then failed to go on after a slow 23 in the second, just at the moment when a Captain's knock was required
For mine, his chronic dose of Shagger's Back restricts his footwork, so quite a lot of the time he finds himself neither back nor forward to the ball, and that's when yr asking for trouble.
Having judiciously sacked himself as a selector, Pup would've have no say in the inspired selection of the Agar Kiddie, who turned out to be a top bet for all the most unexpected reasons.
A Boof masterstroke, no doubt about it.
But surely 19 is far too young to be nominated as this week's National Hero for falling two runs short of a ton on debut at No.11.
Don't get me wrong, a top knock, without doubt - the kid can bat - and no-one has done it before in the history of the caper, but in the match situation consider it in the cold light of day.
The Childe Ashton made 112 for the match, and got carted for 2/106.
He was a busy man, to be sure, but it wasn't enough to win the match, and he has a lot to learn of course, especially when he's got a Pakistani reffo with the same act as him who they passed a special Act of Parliament for, to give him a saloon passage through to Citizenship to fast track him onto the tour, breathing down his neck.
A 1-0 lead in the five test series is absolutely priceless, especially as the Evil Englanders don't even have to win the series to retain the Ridiculous Little Urn.
No surprise that it emerged mid-week that JM Arthur reckons MJ Clarke called SR Watson "a cancer on the team".
Choice, well-chosen words, those.
At long last, FIGJAM has been found out for what he really is.
Clarkey might as well have added "you know the sort, the kind of slow-growing cancer that creeps up behind you when you are not looking, and then stabs you in the back without warning.".
After the utter utter nonsense that went on in India, Watson should've been sacked, punted, and drop-kicked out the back door without so much as a sausage.
Can't be the only one who lives for the day when the rank no-talent show pony is banished to the back paddock, never to be seen nor heard of again.
Never mind the hype surrounding Agar's heroics, and the gushing pumping up of the "brave effort" to bring the match to a cliffhanger, you have to wonder if the Strayans actually realise that they have been beaten by the Poms, that's right, beaten by the Poms.
Nothing worse in all of world sport.
Well...at least we can be consoled by the fact that Straya was, in the end, robbed blind by blind Bamford's and cheatin' Poms.

Boys v Men Mk II

Self-Flaggelators,

So, the Pygmies find themselves on the receiving end of a Masterclass, aka a 19-goal football lesson.
Suppose that's what you get when you ask a rabble of boys to play a team of tough-nutted fully-grown men.
Said ir before, say it again, there should be a law against it.
What does surprise tho', especially with The Great Sheeds running the show, is that the Pygs have failed to go on from their debut year, and have shown little or no improvement in their second year, and might have even gone backwards if the state of the Premiership ladder is anything to go by.
The Swans only won the West by five goals in the season pipe-opener.
Unlike the Suns, who got ahead little by little in year two, and are now a half-way competitive side in their third season (mind you they do have Son of God - who was recently touted as being even better than God - on their list).
The Pygmies roster needs a serious shake up, and there's talk they will trade the No.1 draft pick for a decent seasoned player to lead their backline, delist the no-hopers, and of course they are well cashed up and are prepared to pay millions for Buddy.
For the Swans, apart from percentage, there was nothing to be gained by it, and certainly nothing to be learnt.
Sydney have had tougher training runs than that.
Everyone just went about doing what they were expected to do, nothing more, nothing less, except Tippet.
Tipsy was worried out of taking marks by small children and mere slips-o'-things half his size who could do nothing more than tug on the man mountain's short pants.
Of the grabs he did take, he sprayed the kicks for goal far and wide to both sides of the big sticks.
Radar not working.
Obviously his contract would have a "must kick goals' clause in it, and he can point to three goals being a fair winning margin under normal circumstances, but in a 24 goal total, he should've scored a poultice off his own boot.
Can do better.
Perhaps the dire warnings from the Colonies that Tippet only plays one good game in five may come to pass.
Ironic to note that the player Adelaide wanted to trade him for - Jesse White - had a much better game than Tipsy, and Jesse was the substitute off the bench!
Birdy might have got one Brownlow vote to mark his 100th game.
The Canary would be among the most surprised that he's actually played a hundred games.
The sort of player who you never really notice; just gets the work done with the minimum of fuss or fanfare.
Should be more of them, as there's enough show ponies in the caper as it is.
The Swans were missing no less than nine players who appeared in last year's Grand Final, as they were injured, or pretending to be injured, so they could be "rested".
SC Horse, you'd imagine, would be spending a lot of time visiting Sick Bay to check on their progress, especially with The Great Goodes Train unlikely to be back on the paddock much before the finals.
The boss must be sick of the sight of surgical scars, crutches, bandages, tourniquets, and high-performance hypodermic needles.
It's all part and parcel of the modern game, apparently.

SYDNEY: 3.8, 10.10, 15.19, 24.27 (171). Goals: White 3, Tippett 3, Pyke 3, Mitchell 3, McGlynn 2, Bird 2, Kennedy 2, Rampe, Bolton, Parker, Malceski, O’Keefe, Mumford.
GREATER WESTERN SYDNEY: 1.3, 3.7, 3.9, 5.12 (42). Goals: Cameron 3, D.Smith, Darley.
At Sydney Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 21,757.

So, The Great Benji Marshall wants to walk out on Balmain, asking to be released from the last two years of his contract after reportedly knocking back a $1.5M contract extention and upgrade, to go and play rugby union back in his motherland, where money is no object.
It could just be an ambit claim to try to squeeze more filthy lucre out of Leichhardt, or maybe he really is looking for a very fat retirement pension on the union fields of the Land of The Long White Cloud.
Who knows?
Most loyal Tigers fans would be saying "Bugger you, son. A contract is a contract is a contract - see you in court".
The only problem is Benj apparently has a complicated get-out clause in his current contract related to future salary cap increases, that leaves the door ajar.
However, do find myself tending to subscribe to the minority school of thought - i.e. that Marshall's getting on, his best playing days are behind him, he'll be even more injury prone as he gets older, he doesn't like the new coach much; so, thank him for his loyal service, let him go, and use the not inconsiderable pile of cash to rebuild the club from the ground up, without him.
But that's a dead-set heresy among most of the faithful.
With this season well gorn, it will take a few years.
Generational change is not only possible, but inevitable, so why not start now, before it's too late?
Stark pragmatism would tell you that's the only way that they'll come close to jagging another Premiership within the next decade or so.
You know it makes sense.

WESTS TIGERS: State-of-Origin bye.

"The Mousetrap"

Trick Cyclists,

Todd Carney is a thoroughly detestable human being.
Well known for being involved in high speed police chases, drink driving convictions [x3], urinating on a bloke after he'd knocked him to the ground, setting another bloke's pants on fire causing serious injuries to groin and scrotum, a criminal damage conviction for smashing up a car and a shop front etc etc...and that's just what's come before the courts.
Reportedly has a poor attitude towards women, no sense of humour, and not an empathetic bone in his body.
Perhaps that's why he survived falling off a two storey balcony while as the parrot.
A dead-set psychopath, who has been moved on by not one, but two clubs, for being a fool to himself and a burden on the community.
Just so happens the buffoon is playing the best football of his career at the minute.
So it's very hard to stomach when the turd single-handedly destroys the Tigers in the first half.
Carney had a hand or a foot in every Cronulla try, and he is one of the best goal kickers in the caper, damn it.
Add to that the fact that half the Sharks team is made up of players who have been discarded by the TIgers.
That also sticks in the craw.
Take Chris Heighington - a perfectly serviceable tradesman-like forward who will take the ball up for you week in week out; Beau Ryan - a very handy winger/centre three-quarter on his day; Bryce Gibbs - with a full head of hair!
All let go by the Tigers in tawdry circumstances, and all ended up at Cronulla.
When Gibbs was playing for Balmain he always played with a fully bald head, not a hair on his bonce, and has been playing like that also down in The Shire - until this week - when he elicited much comment by suddenly appearing with a perfectly coiffed bouffant.
There was widespread speculation that he had purchased a tackle-proof toupee, you know the ones; you can dive off the 10m platform without dislodging them.
People have been wondering what's come over the bloke.
And then there's Andrew Fifita, who the Tigers put a lot of time, effort and money into, only to come to the conclusion that he would never really be the goods and wasn't worth continuing with.
So what happens?
They traded him to Cronulla for next to nothing, he goes to his new club, gets a new coach, and in the space of little more than a year is showing all the hallmarks of being a future superstar, and gets picked for New South Wales in all three of the State of Origin games.
Joisus.
Bad mistake.
Balmain Football Dept incompetance and mismanagement at its worst.
Little wonder the Club Secretary was asked to take the walk out the back door mid-season
At one point during the grim first half narrative, Adam Blair performed "The Mousetrap".
A highly unusual backline play usually made under pressure, when the ball in played backwards through the players legs tunnel-ball-style, to the receiver who puts it on the toe, and hopes for the best in bamboozling the opposition backs.
Thought to myself "jeez, haven't seen The Mousetrap in a while", and the television commentators concurred, saying "you'd have to go back to the glory days of Canberra in the early 90's for the last time it was seen regularly".
The problem with The Mousetrap is there is no hard evidence that it has ever actually worked, hence its general discontinuation, but hey, it looks good.
As Coach Harry was pulling great tufts of hair from his scone with Balmain down 0-26 at half time, the Good Lady Wife, being the good Catholic that she is, started praying to Mary Mackillop on account of as sure as hell the Tigers needed a miracle to get out of this one, and she's delivered the goods on more than one occasion.
And By Crikey! Good Lordy!
Saint Mary almost pulled it off.
A sterling second half come back just wasn't quite enough to get the result, but with three un-answered tries to Balmain early in the second half, the impossible suddenly became possible, only to be held in check in a disappointing denoument.
Rumour has it that after the game, Coach Harry got the chalk out and wrote on the dressing room blackboard: "MUST SCORE POINTS IN EVERY HALF IN EVERY GAME".
And then handed out sheets of ruled paper and pencils, and ordered the players to write it out x 100 times.

CRONULLA-SUTHERLAND SHARKS 36. Tries: Fifita (2), Bukuya, Graham, Lewis, Stapleton. Goals: Carney (6).
WESTS TIGERS 22. Tries: Simona (2), Tedesco, Thompson. Goals: Marshall (3).
At Shark Park.
Crowd: 13,843.

Just like the up coming Federal election, the result of this contest was well known and widely telegraphed before the shooting match even began.
With a crowd of 86K+ in on the Friday night, the caterers wouldn't have been very taxed for an unpopular Saturday afternoon game.
Just leave the left over pies in the pie warmers overnight, so they are thermo-nuclear by the opening bounce.
Never mind that Sydney didn't really turn up to play, and had one of their worst games of the season against a team of strugglers, who had their best game of the year.
Getting beat by five goals to three in the last quarter was something Mr Longmire would have been distinctly unhappy about, given that he adheres to the adage that it's not over until the Fat Lady sings, and while she had a few warbles going at three quarter time, it was by no means a full blown aria.
The Jack story continues to be one for the ages, with the younger bro Brandon being subbed on in the first quarter due to an injury to the most unfortunate Sam Reid, and went about having a blinder, kicking not only his first goal in senior football, but four!
More than the elder Keiran has ever done; his best is three goals in a game.
Not bad for a very young looking 19 year old just starting to make his way among the big boys.
There's Football Dept management at its finest.
Still, the critics from the Colonies were delighted that Tipsy spent the whole afternoon dropping marks.
Turned over more ball than you'd believe.
Sure, Kurt kicked two wobbly goals, but he sprayed the rest of his kicks at the sticks far and wide, and really should have booted 10 against that rabble.
At least Malceski kept his mouth shut this week, given that he wasn't particularly outraged by anything, and just concentrated on playing well.
Complacency will be the Swans Enemy No.1 over the next little while.
If you, like me, had been offered free tickets to the Pygmies game at the SCG for the Sunday matinee this weekend by no less than three people so far this week, you'd also be saying no, no, no.
No doubt Coach Horse would be reminding them that there are three teams ahead of them on the ladder, and they are all damned good.
And guess what, you'll have to more or less beat them all, not once, but twice, to go top.
So, time to sharpen up the day, before anyone else gives it much thought.
Wandered into the Front Bar at The Local on Monday morning and found The Philosopher in his usual corner sipping on this week's favoured tipple - a Long Island Iced Tea.
He casually acknowledged me, so asked him but one question.
"What's the weather like in The Bahama's at this time of year, Prof?"
"Nice, mate, nice" and left it at that.

MELBOURNE: 3.1, 5.2, 8.5, 13.7 (85). Goals: Fitzpatrick 3, Dawes 2, Howe 2, Watts 2, Davey, Nicholson, Trengove, Jones
SYDNEY: 5.3, 9.13, 13.18, 16.20 (116). Goals: B.Jack 4, Bird 2, Tippett 2, Everitt, Lamb, McVeigh, K.Jack, Parker, Pyke, O'Keefe, Mitchell.
At Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Crowd: 26,216.