Season 2018 ~ Mick's AFL Footy Blog

3 clubs, 23 rounds, A slab of passion….

Arden Street – what the hell is goin’ on?

Posted on July 6, 2014 by Mickey Gee
Screen shot 2014-03-22 at 2.17.54 PM logo-hawthorn

It’s a long way to the top…of Etihad Stadium when you’re on the general admission gravy train. Last on the fan revenue food chain, no one in authority there really knows where you can sit except a vague generic insight consummated with a finger pointed upwards.

We work it out ourselves when we find an aisle unpopulated by staff there to check our tickets. Outside its blowing a gale but up here its calm and warm. Families gather around us. Big groups of lads head to the top row with their smuggled Wild Turkey and coke cans. Couples barrack under blankets while the odd elder loner fan is scattered among us. Old school. To our left, 4 Western Bulldog supporters in their tri-colour guernseys presumably here for a footy fix to inoculate themselves against a coming belting at Geelong that coming their way two days later. While the height takes away some of the immediacy, the opportunity to read the game from above reveals gaps in the Hawks game that tonight they can’t overcome.

So which North Melbourne will show up tonight – the tough gritty world beaters who’ve smashed top 4 mobs Sydney, Port Adelaide and Fremantle? – or the take the gas ensemble who’ve succumbed to beneath them Essendon, Adelaide and last week cellar dweller Brisbane?

5 intertwined events charged with symbolism pre-game build momentum within my growing sense of unease about the Hawks chances:

  1. Hawk legend Dermott Brereton’s boots into North article appears in the Herald Sun. Questions Drew Petrie’s relevance, chips Boomer again for selfishness, proposes Nicky Del Santo is a tad lazy around the contested ball. Over breakfast I confront the chance that we’re toast.
  2. I am a member/life long fan of Hawthorn as well as North Melbourne where my blue n white daughter Fagyn and I have seats in Aisle 17 in the midst of the Troo Roos. We decide on neutrality and General Admission Level 3 our compromise. I still can’t work out why people have to pay for these same seats further round the oval.
  3. The 4 dried apricots I have after lunch become a duodenal depth charge as the game progresses therefore I must withdraw for presenting for my traditional pre-game Souvlaki.  The apricot are revisited for much of the post game night ensuring Saturday is a lost cause to cot, bowl and kip.
  4. Fireworks over Docklands herald my arrival like a descent in a warzone
  5. My uncharcteristic rant that proved totally off the mark:

While I take refuge in one of Dermies stats benchmarking North as 16th in the competition for marks inside 50, the Hawks seem up against in from the start. During the pre match warm up outside runner Bradley Hills knee feels “soreness” and becomes a late scratching. Brad Sewell, in and under grunter is subbed as his hamstring unravels just 5 minutes in.

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After last weeks shameful loss to Brisbane, The Roos have come into this game determined to fill the gaps manning up continuously to frustrate the Hawks kick to precision game. Normally persistent runs from half back become frustrated as the Roos force contested turnovers across the centre line or “midfield” as the commentators now call it. Jack Gunston is the Hawk’s only standout forward with 6 goals, but its the third quarter that knocks the game North’s way as they go about slamming on seven goal to four goals to take a 35 point lead at three quarter time, several from undisciplined panic free kicks and one sublime hanger from Drew Petrie on the goal line.

The game had been up for grabs in the p until Brian Lake’s double brain fade in the third quarter. Outrun by Petrie for an opportunity just outside 50, Lake ensures an outside possibility becomes a dead set certainty when he punches the marked ball out of his hands earning a definite goal 50 metre penalty. As Roo three gamer Ben Brown goals from the square, the pair wrestle on the ground with Lake going the throat. In a rarity for AFL, the word “trachea” is introduced by TV/Radio Doctor Peter Larkins fearful the compression was going to asphyxiate Drew.  Hawks Lewis and Clarkson step outside the team cohesiveness to bake his behaviour as “unacceptable”, “undisciplined”, “not what we stand for” “unapricot like” pre-match. We also get the “let his club down”, “let his mates down”, “let his family”, “let the diggers down”, “let his country down” mantra so keenly invoked by accusers and accused in the wake of disappointing acts or behavior. Clarkson,  returning after health issues, undoes stand in coach Brendan Bolton’s 5 game straight winning streak with this 20 point loss that puts the top position under pressure. “Bring back Bolton” one heckler offers on his way off the ground.

BROWN BenThe wrestle took a bit of light off the good work of Ben Brown, the latest in a number of forwards for the blue and white tried and rejected (Majak Daws), injured (Robbie Tarrant) or off the boil (Aaron Black, Drew Petrie) this season. “Brownie” has that look of a gangly bloke in Year 12, short-sleeved white shirt out, popping home a carton of big M and a couple of Jiffy donuts at recess and at the ready for half a dee if you just give him a call. Takes a couple of big grabs and kicks crucial goals. Hope he hangs in, as he’s got cult figure written all over him, a status attained by Hawk Matt Spangher who struggles to body the big forwards Black and Petrie despite his obvious heart.

Post game, every Roo’s player Dermie bagged has played beyond themselves. We get trapped in a tiny stairwell that an impeccably dressed attendant informs us is the best exit option “at this time”, and the apricots kick in seriously in the ute on the trip back to Ballarat in an in-gut reminder of those loud, rumbling, surprising pre-game fireworks over Docklands.

Posted in Hawks, Roos | Tagged | 6 Comments

If I wasn’t in front of the heater, I’d hate Round 15

Posted on July 2, 2014 by Mickey Gee

John-Lennon-the-60s-17810225-500-399288664-mick-malthouseJohn Lennon and Mick Malthouse on the same page? As artists they’ve looked into that deep dark truthful mirror on occasion, often to question the very essence of their life long passion.

So let’s compare their lyrics.

Firstly, Lennon’s Yer Blues from the Beatles White Album masterpiece released in 1968:

“Black cloud crossed my mind
Blue mist round my soul
Feel so suicidal
Even hate my rock ‘n’ roll
Wanna die yeah wanna die
If I ain’t dead already
Ooh girl you know the reason why” 

Now singer songwriter Malthouse’s virtuoso effort

“If I wasn’t coaching, I’d hate the game. We don’t see the contests of yesteryear. I don’t know if the public really enjoy that …At the end of the day, we’re supposed to be entertainers. Maybe down the track, and we do have some say in where the game is going, we’ve got to change it.”

Thankfully Lennon’s sentiments were an existentialist channelling of the angst his felt about not getting moved by the guru like George. He went to reiterate again and again in his music that love for his rock n roll. But what about Mick? Never one for public joyous incantations about the game, could it be that after 633 games coach at 3 clubs for 363 wins, 264 losses 6 draws (including that 2010 Grand Final) and 3 premierships, Mick’s had a gutful? I can hear my employer now after such a public utterance about my work environment – “Mike? Do you see that door?”. Lawyers could then get onto the real game about my unpaid entitlements.

mig3Tba1hVBZcn6hmTKWTgQSo many sublime goals this year from the usual suspects Franklin, Rioli, Betts et al, but this round we saw Goal of the Year in the form Bulldog rising star Marcus Bontempelli’s elusive chicanery deep in the forward pocket. This magic came after he’d earlier levelled the scores with a brazen snap from centre half forward. Bontempelli pressured Demon back James Frawley into dropping the ball then took possession before weaving through opponents in close like a snake on a desert highway road at noon. His tight angle snap was all altitude following truly between the only sticks that matter.Despite having a surname that in the recounting reminds one of a slow building reflux incident, Marcus last week snagged a Rising star nomination. Dogs need some joy and a cult hero to hang the young kids commitment on into the future is like the club to a bone.

Colder than a well diggers arse down in Launceston as the sun loving Gold Coast Sun experience sphincter contracting conditions against the Hawks. Wind, sideways torrential rain, single degree temperatures both real and apparent undermine the young Suns bid to consolidate their spot in the 8. Reformed 2012 shanker Hawk Luke Breust defies the conditions to take his consecutive straight goal tally to 26. 2014 Brownlow medalist Gaz Ablett picks up 40+ possessions while Cyril’s troublesome hammy lays him flat for the second time this season so severe his finals are in doubt.

Kangaroos fall victim to Brisbane who rise to the challenge of winning it for their just retired skipper Jonathan Brown who took a lap of honour at the Gabba at half time. Roos Facebook managers maintain their gift for optimism after proclaiming how the lads had nearly clutched victory after coming back from 33 points down. Social media addicts were left to join the dots between a 16 point lead at quarter time to a 21 point deficiet after a 7 goal second quarter Lions tsunami. These clubs met just 6 rounds back where the Roos flogged the Lions by over 80 points. Post siren young Lion whippersnapper Tom Rockcliffe had some choice self-confessed “inappropriate” words conveyed to Boombox Harvey after the siren that generated more interest in the media than the ISIS rebels declaring a self styled Islamic caliphate or religious superstate that stretches from eastern Iraq to the Syrian city of Aleppo.

Serial headline grabber Eddie McGuire wanted compo off the AFL after 40,000 turned up on Sunday night to his Pies nearly lose to Carlton in the latest installment of the access all timeslots experimentation endemic this season. The class action against Ed seeking recompense for crimes against teflon remains unresolved. Western Bulldogs and Melbourne fans laugh so hard at this puffery given their imprisonment in this time slot for most of the season. AFL announce the end of Sunday and Monday evening games soon after.

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A day in the life of the back pocket player

Posted on June 30, 2014 by Mickey Gee

Coldest I’ve ever been? Try sitting up in the back pocket back in ’74 against an opponent that hasn’t had an inside 50 since the Gippy hills echoed with that first steam train on the newly opened Great Southern Railway. I’m 13 years old and my teeth are chattering. Rain is flourishing in off nearby Corner Inlet powered from the freeze off the Antarctic grid into the Toora magpies recreation reserve where our Demons are the visitors.  Weighed down by incessant rain, the red and blue woollen guernsey shrinks by the second against my blueing frame, I figure the call from the coach to shift upfield in relative “warmth” was soon to come at least for one of us from that final line of defence if only to thaw us out of sympathy. Would it be “Hora” the undersized bowl cut dead ringer for Ronald Weasely with an oversized mouthguard? Or Gary Gillette, full back with hair on his chest, and the only one of us whose voice has punched through into the next generation. Or me – an Adonis in reverse with a triple scoop of knobs on my knees, the next in a long line of not quite right back pocket players who dream of forward glory.

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In contrast to the whiting and schnapper that fight for space in the inlet, Toora’s underage footy talent  during this era is just about fished out and our team is picking off goals akin to a gleeful rod-laden crew in the centre of a tuna school. We’re up by 20 goals at half time. In today’s flat earth world where every kid gets a go then a certificate of participation, Hora, Gillette and I would have gone forward where we’d stay until the Toora boys inevitably reverse the stats differential and finally become competitive.

I had one kick that day, mostly because the ball was an itinerant visitor to my back pocket and only because Swampy Thomas, our madman courageous centre half back, went against team rules and kicked it backwards, purely to give us a touch. The ball came into our area a couple of times but I even lost those contest amongst ourselves to get a possession, a touch anything that might kindle warmth. I’d be no good fighting for a loaf of bread off the back of an aid truck when the earthquake comes to town. Our immediate opponents had long since deserted us, hoofing upfield in a futile bid to initiate a flood to cauterise our free scoring. I could always read the ball pretty well in the air and off the deck. But watching our (warmer) forward’s shots hover and sway in the air, I knew I had to be ready if the ball came our way. Decisive, assertive, team focussed. However, being a bit of a “home and put the heaters on” man from age 8 where I practiced ball handling skills with a sock footy mum had knocked together on the Singer in an optimistic encouragement of the development of my skills, I was aware of the propensity of the ball to behave in even more mysterious ways when the ball comes in unpredictably from a variety of angles and trajectories onto a sodden sheep paddock camouflaged as a recreation reserve.

Years earlier, an era ended when that sock footy sizzled and popped before bursting into irretrievable flames atop glowing embers after an ill fated butchered snap through the lounge room door had hit the back of the open fireplace. I later went onto to break our porch window with it’s less than satisfactory replacement –  a paper thin plastic brown football manufactured by the pre Richard Nixon visit Peoples Republic of China. My Penalty? Lugging a knapsack full of pesticide eliminating nascent scotch thistles one by one over the course of the 90 acre family farm. You can build dignity for work, but I still pined for the heater. These are the kind of memories that drift downstream upon the flotsam of boredom we were hanging onto for dear life in that frozen wasteland of the Toora back line.

The first pride about face starts with a low flat ball there to be taken out stretched that slides easily through my Raynaud phenomenon like fingers straight onto my conk. Theres no hit in the face like a wet cold footy hit. Later despite my best efforts a truant ball skids in hard at pace to land on a flat wet oasis of compressed dirt in a desert of mud just a metre in front of me. I’ve read the situation beautifully but I’m out thought by the Toora mud shamelessly when that pigskin reacts lower with accelerated momentum to it’s host striking me low and hard with the cold heavy wet pointy end right into the heartland of my emerging testes.

And the camera noses in to the tears on my face.

There’s no call from the coach, an old school structures man who refuses to flirt with form or established position. Our guernseys sag longer into frigid despair. In that ice stalactitised world of our back line, blood vessels simply begin to say “No”.

You love to win but someone in the Toora hierachy forgot to light the kerosene hot water service.

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Photo Credit – Toora Scoreboard photo first published at http://www.foxsportspulse.com/club_info.cgi?client=1-6141-80304-0-0&sID=266153&&news_task=DETAIL&articleID=24530192 

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Micks Big Round 14 moments

Posted on June 25, 2014 by Mickey Gee

To reflect there was enjoyment to be had out of the Richmond Sydney clash was like saying you watch “Embarrassing Bodies” for the medical insights. A low scoring battle, the match a continual scrag of bodies moving randomly under it’s the weight of its own organism. The rugby invoked metaphor cacophony of condemnation building in the commentary box and social media. Despite the enthralling contest I found myself involuntary surfing the remote to catch updates on how “Joe” from Sussex was dealing with that rare purple growth on the end of his snout.

384974-brownSensing the abdication of their Lion Brown King to come, Brisbane surrender to the defensive Fremantle marauders managing only 1 point to half time. By Monday, after a weeks speculation, legend Johnathan Brown has retired citing medical opinion that 3 journeys into concussion is ample evidence of the folly of playing on despite still having tank full of his hi octane courage.  Fears that the planned endless beers that await those new idle nights potentially more damaging than the risk of match conditions concussion dismissed as wowerism by the medical community after a few drinks post surgery.

The VFL began in 1897 formed by breakaway clubs from the VFA. By 1990 it morphed into the AFL. In a proposal reminiscent of the Soviet rewriting of history, the AFL Chief Commissioner and ex Carlton Captain Mike Fitzpatrick suggested that the pre 1897 flag results should be included in Clubs premiership tally. Initial fears of zombie reunions across inner Melbourne spawned by resurrected party premiership players were dispelled when Pie Head Pilot Eddie McGuire smells a rat as ol nemesis Carlton would take the lead in the historical premiership ladder.

Robin HoodMate argues the AFL is at the beginning of “tipping point” accelerated by declining crowds and the club equalisation scheme. Posted on Facebook, his argument goes like this”

“Here’s my prediction: the AFL is about to hit a Tipping Point from which it wont recover and the next generation of kids will be playing soccer. There are multiple reasons for this but lets start with this. The AFL have spent the last five years expanding the competition into regions that dont give a damn about AFL at the expense of maintaining the Victorian heartland teams (and I include Brisbane in this group). The AFL talks about the equalisation fund, but where will that cash come from? You got it: the Victorian heartland clubs but on current attendances and memberships they’ll be lucky to break even, let alone subsidise the weak clubs. Throw in the Essendon supplement scandal which has already been catastrophic to the game at the grass roots level and I suspect that the AFL is very worried. The broadcast deal only has value when the stadiums are full and people watch it on TV. Statistically 65% of all players in the AFL come from Victoria. Drive around on a Sat/Sunday and see what sport kids are playing.”

Equalisation is not easily explained however the opening verse to a long defunct TV show provides far more insight than I can provide:

Robin Hood, Robin Hood
Riding through the glen.
Robin Hood, Robin Hood
With his band of men.
Feared by the bad, loved by the good.
Robin Hood, Robin Hood, Robin Hood.

Once AFL has evaporated are we cursed to view tractor pulling for entertainment? Hurling? Rickshaw championships?? Is this our future? The “tipping point” leads the game from present economic buoyancy to depression, even recession triggered by an ever declining share of the overall dollar pie flowing from the larger clubs under the weight of unfriendly game times, slowing game revenue and membership. A bit like how the loss making “quality” newspaper The Australian is propped up by Murdoch with Herald-Sun and Sydney Telegraph. Pop will eat itself. This weekend,  fans at GWS do their bit to reduce the trip angle by assembling just 9000 to their clash against the Blues.

Field umpires wearing lavelier microphones, Goal umpires wearing GoPros, HD cameras gaffered to the goal posts, a couple of jokers upstairs with 4 widescreen television sets and a gravel voiced MC whom the jokers try to keep off the no name supermarket goon long enough to proclaim at the end of the process “Score review complete – Umpires call”.

Gold Coast win their first game over Geelong. You Beauty!!!! However, as Jeff Kennett starts to create a new curse inside the Victorian Liberal party with today’s bake of ousted premier Ted Baillieu around a leaked recording of him putting the boots into party colleagues lands on our doorstep. Remember when the Blues pinched that final against the Dons back in 1999? Yep that was Jeff’s last day as premier. Could he zip it? Maybe? Please…..eventually? You’d be a fool to write off the Cats despite your emotional commitment to do so. Ablett looking at being triple Brownlow medalist.

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Bucks outwitted

Posted on June 24, 2014 by Mickey Gee
cfc_logo_rev logo-hawthorn

Regular readers will recall my previous failed attempts to bring order and civility to the interpersonal conduct during the game where my partner Erin’s Magpies lines up against my Hawks. Earlier in the week there’s talk of going down to the game, not to sit together of course as that’s been tried – and failed – before. Walk to and from game together then Erin in the Ponsford, me in the Great Southern. While the light has been on the Hawks injury list, Erin’s growing realisation that Collingwood has a sick bay of it’s own filled mostly with their backline experience might foster an experience akin to witnessing the western ice shelf finally fall off the coast of Antarctica.

Thankfully we have no real estate on the coast so on match eve, we decide on Fox Footy. As 70,000 fans take advantage of a rare Saturday afternoon clash between two over subscribed teams (remember those pet memberships?) we respectfully hook up the data projector and stream the game hashtag on our mantel piece twitter wall as a distraction to jibes, cheap shots and sneaky underhand abuse that inevitably pour from the disappointments of the game’s ebb and flow. During this pre-match phony war we exchange polite observations, the odd compliment, make drinks for each other and bite our respective nails down to the quick in anticipation of the coming shit storm.

The game is a tight dour struggle until half time with the lead see-sawing. Half time the Hawks edge to a 9 point lead.

Erin is saved from what follows by a phone call from her mum in the premiership quarter that spares her the agony of witnessing the 5 minute 27 point Hawk turnaround kickstarted by a putrid umpiring decision that misreads a Pendlebury handball for a throw as he streams goalward with the Hawks in disarray. On the rebound Brad Sewell goals and the game melt begins.

Vinci_15_fingerNose-784238By this stage, Pie coach Nathan Buckley is seething and there’s no safe place for his players when he decides to coach from the boundary line. Emerging ruckman Jarrod Witts running off the ground in surprisingly ignorance of his surname’s insight blindly cops the wrath for some unknown cock up and is man handled, pointed at and screamed to in a very public display of appreciation in reverse. Fans, commentators and aesthetes are divided between a  “Never hurt anyone!” and “Wheres the dignity?” continuum but the mental kick up the coight kickstarts Witts into action with 2 last quarter goals.

By the time Erin’s call is concluded, her game is lost and after doing a cursory slient visual score update , she feigns any curiosity about how the Pies plummeted to this loss making position, choosing to return to her computer world of art, literature and film far from the ongoing scenes of destruction beamed live from the MCG.  6 straight to the Hawks, Pies losing touch with the top 4.

Later a world away, the Pie car crash metaphor is further stretched when a pedestrian runs out in front of Pie veteran’s defender Nick Maxwell’s car and contemplates an insight into Nick’s defensive driving skills. While no stats are recorded for this hit, the media is rampant in it’s concern for Nick whose had the surprise of his life but invokes the “stuff him” scope with which to view the pedestrians health consequences.

 

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Chip Gut

Posted on June 23, 2014 by Mickey Gee

chips packA rapidly expanding waist line is the compromise required to collect AFL Tazos packed into potato chips. I was a fit middle aged man running up to 25 games a week refereeing basketball yet I was carrying a gut. Well supersize me, I was hooked on potato chips not out of psychological habit, but to retrieve the tazo. And how to network with like minded collectors for swaps and product updates? You’ve got to own your addiction and declare publicly “my name is Michael Gwyther and I’m an AFL cardaholic”. This bold shamelss declaration sees other long suffering folk step forward to help you, support you – trade with you. In my case a 12 year old boy from Warrnambool and a 67 year old woman who lived locally. Meantime your belt loses another notch, your cholesterol count is rising and you kid yourself that barbecue is really a nice flavour. Excuses that creep into your vocabulary during wholesale transactions – “they’re for my son” bring awkward silent decrepitude when your 20 year old appears from nowhere as the cash is about to be handed over.

johnnoYou get bitter – like feeling jinxed when you buy and eat 3 packets of Chicken chips in quick succession only to score Brad Johnson in each pack. You become vulture like on two/three fer deals. Toward the end the chips themselves were an uncouncious by product of an addiction that has no name. You get thirsty so you begin popping the tops of stubbies. You’re in a time warp that you’re meant to grow out of once your voice drops but you’re hooked, hooked I tell ya!

So, how to break the cycle? Sometimes it requires that disconnect that right wing economic forces deliver like cold water in the face at dawn.

I was gutted – literally – when the AFL tazos were discontinued back in 2011. My waist line returned to normal and the dead of night salt cleansing water glasses became a thing of the past. My skin recovers from the perpetual lightly fried oil attacks now glowing as a not quite right fire sale demo from the Ponds Institute.

ABCR-10-155Once as a young boy I saved up my coins by washing discarded “Joes” lemonade bottles for which you’d get 5 cents for returning the bottle. Joe’s commitment to sustainability was on every bottle – “Worth money to both Joes and You and I’m very precious empty too”. The Joes bottle was a wonder, thick black enamel depicting a silouetted Joe sipping a glass beside a wonderful 50’s font atop a venetian blind musical score motif. Manufactured locally in the Swansea of South Gipplsland Korumburra, their Sarsaparilla was the fizz Grange of it’s time. So I’ve 143040-tnwashed about 80 Joe’s in a half 44 gallon drum sloshing with freezing damn water. I’ve then had em converted into cash and headed into town to buy a whole box of Scanlen’s footy cards with the logical thought that it contain the whole set. My rationale pointed to avoiding frustrating double ups, cards already collected and the obligatory sore jaw from chomping the on pink, dry stale stick of gum.

I learnt a hard lesson that day as I unpacked each individual wrapper to learn that out of 300 possible cards in the box, there were only 16 unique cards and the rest were duplicates. Until that very moment of time I had believed that the card manufacturers – whose location, motivation or operation was never understood let alone examined, questioned, challenged or contemplated – were on the side of little Mickey Gwyther from Leongatha.

YmIMizFVF1QR8jMluRo0Gz3Qears later when Scanlens were acquired by Stimrol and after a season or two from the ashes arose the Select brand, that historically obligatory stick of gum was abolished from inclusion.

However, If you had pulled me aside when I was 8 and said that 45 years later I would lose countless nights staring at a screen in the endless pursuit of VFL/AFL card trades without having to jump on a bike to pay for em, I’d said “Show me the time machine”. This is the allure of eBay. My own Scanlens sets collected and collated meticulously during my pre teen years are scattered to the winds by the type of neglect that accumulates the thinking in those early shadow adult years. Recently I happened to witness an ol geezer on Facebbok share photo after photo of his meticulous collection of Hawthorn trading cards So thorough and carefully organised and presented, it appeared as a mirage – a time frozen document from the silent era to the present day of both football intensity and fandom loyalty. I vowed on the spot to rebuild a collection that pays homage to the heroes, hacks and nobodies that collectively epitomise my own Hawthorn journey over 5 decades and 9 flags”. I tie my mast to wait lists, drive my scabbard into bold counter offers, don my gas mask to avoid the poison of being out bid, and aim my musket gun at vintage fading cards from the pre television VFL era of disposable heroes. After a flurry my mail is now collected in crates, my time preoccupied with feedback. But I reach the top of the first of many mountains – I am a good person to do business with.

In the slightly bastardised words of the great Glen Campbell, I’ve become an ebay cowboy.

0808-0801-1115-2849I’ve been browsin’ these cards so long
Singin’ the same old song
I know every crack in these dirty card collections of Scanlens
Where hustle’s the name of the game
And nice guys get washed away like the packs in the rain
There’s been a load of compromisin’
On the road to my horizon
But I’m gonna be where the gold cards are shinin’ on me

Like a ebay cowboy0808-0801-1115-2849
Riding out on a mouse in a Mac-spangled rodeo
Like a ebay cowboy
Getting cards and letters from people I don’t even know
And offers comin’ over the phone

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Mick’s Big Round 13 Upsets

Posted on June 18, 2014 by Mickey Gee

Amongst the predictable beltings this round, came a rich seam of match day beauty producing alluvial contested gold.

We begin by musing on the notion that if St Kilda was a grape we’d be collectively quaffing them after Geelong’s savage boots and all harvest bottling on their own vintage dung hill. Sainters on track for their 27th wooden spoon, their first since 2000.

Over at Princess Park a triplet of Blues events is over shadowed by another – albeit, close – defeat at the hands of the walking wounded Hawks:

1. Mick Malted#milkshake#House “so individual” 700th game as an AFL coach. That’s a lot of press conferences. Lots of stares

2. President and club top 5 of all time Steven “Sticks” Kernahan’s last game at the helm before stepping down.

Elmore_James3. The 150th Carlton anniversary where the top 5 Blues of all time were announced. Big names too – Muddy Waters (aka Sticks himself, Stephen Kernahan), BB King(aka Stephen Silvagni), Howlin Wolf (aka Alex Jesaulenko), Robert Johnson (aka John Nicolls)  and the indefatigable master of slide guitar Elmore James (aka Bruce Doull – left).

Brendan Fevola; the wayward yet enigmatic prop and big goal Mediterranean full forward, came back to the Blues for the first time since being shown the door after those paralytic Footy Show vox pops on Brownlow night 2009. His reference that night to vaunted Blues captain Chris Judd as a Steven Seagal channelling “pressure point” applier to opponents in a hammered reference to the skippers suspension was the last straw after a long honour roll of loss of control. Judd deadpanned at the tribunal “I’ve since watched a juddfevolacouple of Steven Seagal movies and realised that pressure points are no laughing matter”

Post Game, stand in Hawka coach replacement that even Clarko can tower over Brendan Bolton and his wide eyed grin in the post game press conference continues to engage the excited child close to our in the day heroes in all of us

Captain of unconsciousness Jonathan Brown was knocked out again as Brisbane battled the Orange people. Once Brownie was escorted from the ground whilst channeling the physical and mental agility of the Thunderbirds cast, the Lion’s lost total momentum to the emerging midfield strength of the Greater Western Sydney “search for a star” talent pool.

North Melbourne’s implosion against Adelaide another test of fans mettle. While home game roller-coaster Roo fans can still take solace in sliding another hot dog out of the thermos in a comfort food exorcism of the games bottom line, tonight’s Adelaide oval clash presents only one option after half time – to refuse to bear witness and sever the power to the television set.

funny_pictures_couple_in_thWest coast Eagles keep an emaciated flame alive in suffocating the Gold Coast Suns. Fans there have found a novel way to pay tribute to Ben Cousin’s shirtless arrest with these fetching his and her game day ponchos that exploit both Perth’s mild climate and tolerance for the (wo)man in white. Y Fronts a handy accessory in the event of a “going commando” Eagle loss at home and the need to fly the white flag.

The Western Bulldogs have mostly this season been prepared to fight until they have to be put to sleep. And sleep they have. Dogs whup Pies and they’re still drinkin at the Rising Hotel, West Footscray. The Banjo is out and there’ll be bluebirds over the red, white and blue cliffs of Dogland. Drink up dogs, your next opponent is Port, at Adelaide oval, in front of 50,000 fans whom, save about 50 who might make the trip, hate your club’s guts.

Richmond gallant against Freo but beaten by Hayden Ballantyne (6 goals) and Matthew Pavlich (3 goals). The Tiger punishment continues with Sydney next on the MCG menu.

photo(3)Melbourne for so long the priority pick somnambulist has been rudely awaken into the belief transplanted by Paul Roos. Essendon reeling from the long overdue issuing by ASADA of “show cause” notices went down at the death after surrendering a potentially match winning lead in a tussle that could have gone either way. TV and Radio sport wrecked again as the long cast of Dons personnel and alleged substances cast another pall over our entertainment.

taxidriver-thumb-510x298-39091As a nation we love to whinge and this fog refuses to lift from the low corners where it’s settled around the topography of game quality, umpiring and defensive football. This round we’re confronted with the life affirming sun breaking through in the form of:

  • Eddie Betts strolling around the boundary, releasing an unorthodox flat spinning “mongrel” and splitting what little daylight separated the sticks at about the same time the canapes are being served up to Fev at the Carlton 150th.
  • Buddy kicking the last 5 goals against Port to win the game off his own superboot including two corkers, one from 70 metres and one from the other side from 60.
  • Hawk Suckling trundling back onto to that lethal left and piercing the posts from 55 metres off a couple of steps.
  • Cyril backing his innate understanding of both trigonometry and spin in squirting a perfect dribbler from 35 after burning off an opponent – you guessed it  – “Special“
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Leave your Pets at home

Posted on June 16, 2014 by Mickey Gee
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Hoodie Bulldogs-500x500Collingwood purport to have over 70,000 paid up members yet only 28,339 fans in toto made it into Etihad stadium for this game. The game had a late start but really you’d reckon a few more of the faithful would show up to watch a win they would have penciled in the day the draw was released. Sweet joy on the third level watching atom forms below circling each other and occasionally clash to manifest themselves into contested ball.
Could it be that the estimated 20,000 or so Pie member’s pet dogs rumoured to have signed up refused to attend and go against their co-species in Western Bulldog form despite being lead on the leash by the tyranny of their masters?

Perhaps your typical Collingwood member dog requires the science fiction of the Western Bulldog identify stripping hoodie so that they remain loyal enough to WOOF WOOF for their co-dogs while remainng pup anonymous swiping the Pies barcode at the turnstiles for free entry? And what of the disenfranchised Geelong Cat’s cats of domiciled at Collingwood members houses? Sure to impact on attendance in the trad Birds V Cats clash ahead of us. Forget the debate about the AFL’s graduated ticketing policy, I’m sure the nation’s pets are rebelling against being forced to go against type and be a card carrying member of a team that to their very DNA, they cannot support. Shame Collingwood Shame.

The stain of this country’s commitment to animal welfare becomes more pronounced when you take into account the various budgerigars, guinea pigs, gold fish, lizards, snakes, goats, white mice – even god damned Magpies themselves –  sold into a membership slave trade designed purely to pump up the tyres of ego fragile AFL clubs determined to be on top of the member premiership ladder come the AFL’s July 31st membership audit deadline.

In 2013 AFL club membership had reached 756,717 members nationally. How many of these actually had the 23 pairs of chromosomes required? Have AFL clubs – in collusion with a docile Scientific community asleep at the wheel and reeling from cuts to the CSIRO – engaged in the lab breeding of  so called “super pets” who can mimic the masking of that 23rd pair, the sex chromosomes for the sole purpose of boosting member numbers? And why isn’t ASADA or enShaWADA up in our dogs faces demanding a swab at the turnstiles?

Some claim pet memberships are not included in official AFL club membership numbers that are published after the audit cut off date. “They” also told us the age of entitlement is over! Who the hell do these pets think they are? Or are they – as I tend to understand – a victim of a cruel conspiracy designed to generate endless streams of income for fat and skinny AFL clubs alike?

charliewabbitaAnd don’t fall for warm and fuzzy “feel good” stories about how excited pets are to be members. If they could escape and join an animal collective to fight back do you think that they wouldn’t! No better place to wake up to reality that to meet Perth based Charles Wabbit, or Charlie to his friends, a pet that took up a prized Fremantle ‘Purple Paws’ membership back in 2012. Charlie is enjoying the spoils with his “collapsible” water bowl and as yet unfouled Dockers “throw” blanket. Call me a rank amateur iridology enthusiast but I’m hopin that its camera flash flare captured here in Charlie’s eyes here otherwise we’re talking myxomatosis. Get out the shovel for the ol heave ho then I’m afraid and another pet membership lapses down another excuse burrow. God aint making any more land but there’s plenty of rabbits to go around for ALL the clubs. You see?!?

My own pet – Max the Cat who passed last year before her beloved Paul Chapman was delisted – was denied a pet membership on the household principle that the Geelong Cats wouldn’t be getting any of our money. There was never any doubt where her allegiances lay from 2007 when she came in after 4am following the Grand Final with the pungent after whiff of possum, field mouse and lizard on her celebrating breath.

Virtually all clubs sell pet memberships ranging in cost from $25 to $45 dollars. Most assume it’s a dog signing up and that they won’t/can’t/shan’t  attend a game. Entitlements depending on the club can include a leash, blanket, a collar, exclusive magnet photo frame and the ubiquitous canvas “collapsible” water bowl. Richmond generously provides you pet with a soft pet pillow presumably to enable a comfortable passing after continuous exposure to failure at Punt Road. Yes, even pets get depressed if they dont get a run in September. Tiger pets do get a fridge magnet handy only if your doghouse is skinned in bluescope steel.

Take a look at some of these pet memberships and tell me you don’t smell a rat…or a white mouse. Start with this warm and fuzzy invitation from the main offender – the Collingwood Football Club:

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Meanwhile over at Essendon, Pet Membership is sold out this year? How might this parallel the “show paws” infraction notices that 34 Essendon pet members have been issued as a result of banned substances consumed, presumably, from these very bowls! The tragedy is compounded when you consider disgruntled howling club intel that suggests many of these pets did not know they had been signed up as members!

And what of the mysterious Paris based “dog whisperer” who reputedly oversaw the membership drive constantly haranguing club insiders via SMS to up the ante and go beyond the staple pet membership entitlements (leash, bowl, fridge magnet – remember?) and get a steal on the other clubs?

Special half cutting edge pet trainers – now having left the club in shame – were also hired to oversee the membership drive that saw many of the 34 drawn into a web of ignorance to the point of not being able to differentiate – during park run recovery sessions – between the wholesome life renewing taste of PAL from the various hallelujah! compounds offered by club insiders (derived from a back door cocktail of various pseudo scientific recovery agents)  including the colostrum expressed by mothers of newly born calves?

And what will become of the (dog) whistle blower once condemned by law and now ready to doggy bag scoop up the skinny on the whole pet membership entitlement supplements scandal!

Finally, what will the courts make of the (where dog name is provided) certificate that could proffer evidence that could implicate the pets?!

Screen Shot 2014-06-16 at 5.58.50 PMFor now I believe we should PUT THE PETS FIRST!!

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Round 12 Mid Season Review

Posted on June 11, 2014 by Mickey Gee

Half way through the season and we’ve just about shut the gate on the final 8. About 10, maybe 12 teams remain in the hunt for Red September, the rest just making up the TV numbers as inevitably season tickets are trashed, crowds stay home, pies end up in land fill and games reflect the tedium of ongoing defeat.  The now lost joy of the new season for a bevy of also rans just a mangled wreck of resignation that no jaws of life can retrieve a spark of football life.

So what about the teams on the perimeter who have a sniff of a chance of September participation?

  • Essendon’s chances despite only a game out of the eight have just taken a dive with the seasonal demise of leader and superstar Jobe Watson;
  • the Adelaide Crows appear a show especially if can string together wins scaffolded off the Adelaide Oval novelty factor and only then if/when the much anticipated Gold Coast Suns bubble burst manifests itself;
  • while West Coast and Carlton can’t collectively assemble an Ikea lazy Susan let alone consecutive quarters and yet….?

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Of these four teams, the next 5 games will declare their pluck and dare. Coming up for each of them and their likely chances are:

Essendon – Melbourne (too close to call but Dons could get bored out of it), Adelaide (home win however Crows travel in packs of 4 and 20), Geelong (whipped soundly), Port Adelaide (an away shellacking of indignite intensity), Collingwood (like being ripped apart by wild Dogs)…so that’s 1 maybe 2 wins without the potential destructive effect of any supplements charges (though at current regulator’s speed likely to feel the impact of this in the 2019 season)…its not enough! Verdict? Buggered.

Adelaide – North Melbourne (if the real North Melbourne turn up, Crows are cactus), Essendon (away loss), Port Adelaide (Show Down – say goodnight Nurse), Greater Western Sydney (risky away from home if orange tails are up playing for their futures), Hawthorn (Hawk stars will be back and aligned – ouch!)… so that’s possibly 2 maybe 3 wins and already 2 games out of the eight require GoldCoast to take the gas. Verdict? Buggered.

West Coast – Gold Coast (at Patersons so giving this an Eagle win), St Kilda (at Etihad but Saints a snag thats laid on the barbie a round or two too long and splitting down the seam), Fremantle (Battle of Subiaco -forget it), Sydney ( B O O M ! ), Brisbane (tails up and at Gabba so hand in your badge)… so thats 2 possible 3 wins but given already 3 games out needs resurrection style miracle to be troubling the travel agent in early spring. Verdict? Buggered.

Carlton – Hawthorn (Mick pops eyeball from explosive release of frustration), Greater Western Sydney (Mick content goes easy on rookie journo’s dopey question premise), Collingwood (Mick doesn’t talk to Bucks pre game or anyone post), St Kilda (Mick allows himself a rare gin mixed with the Gatorade, apologises anew to Richo), Sydney (Mick pounds fist on desk, again and again and again and again while mouthing the types of frustrated diatribe that vision mixers love so well)…so that’s 2 wins at best and currently 3 out. Reliant of everyone above them to implode like Juddy’s hammy. Verdict? Buggered.

What of the Gold Coast? Currently sitting as 8th duck in the row and ordained as most likely to fold in the week ahead. Look out if they get a taste of it this year as the proverbial penny bunger in the cattle semi transport. Where could it go wrong in the next 5? They have – West Coast (long way from home on big ground), Geelong (at Metricon yet a slim outside hope), Hawthorn (in Tassie the Hawk Fort), Collingwood (at home and a chance if Pie’s injuries continue), Western Bulldogs (chalk it in)..so thats at least 2, perhaps 3 and if fortuned by upset, up to 4 possible wins. Enough to stay tight. Verdict? Not yet buggered.

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What about the rest?

Richmond – After 15 wins last season and the promise of finals influence ahead confidence and skills lie shot to hell in Punt Road disconnect between coach, players, game plan, skills, expectations and passion.

Western Bulldogs – Collectively preferring the heat of the hearth to the sniff of the trail. No discernible improvement during a season of reverse osmosis where middle tier talent ossified by injury and lack of progression to the next level.

Melbourne – High as a kite on the Paul Roos juggernaut. Playing magnificently while stoned but community health nurses awaiting the hard yards of recovery from the next morning downer to come amidst some character challenging beltings that inevitably coming from League heavy weight pushers.

Brisbane – Decision to move on Voss last year looked initially shaky after early season catastrophes now looks vindicated as kids come through loud and proud into the system. Jonathon Brown’s decision to commit to one more season to put the paddle pop back into the Lion now an inspired act of leadership.

St Kilda – Kids coming through after years of neglect under Lyon and the other guy who came after him Scott Waters yet still over reliant on old stagers for goals (Evergreen career best form Reiwoldt) and clearances (In and under subterranean Hayes). Genuine kiddie midfield talent emerging. One to simmer on the back burner for a season or three.

GWS Giants – Bolstered by genuine experience in Shaw and Mumford yet failing to excite amidst some serious beltings most thought were behind them. Needs numbers at home games and wins to entice the young guns to stay and prosper in foreign territory and avoid total irrelevance.

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Dead Men Walking

Posted on June 9, 2014 by Mickey Gee
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Mental disintegration in an AFL side is a tragedy unfolding in the form of the Richmond Football Club, the classic metaphor for a lack of global action in the face of an impending rise of terrestrial temperatures that threatens to fundamentally destroy our way of life. Trading poor yielding carbon credits Jay Schultz (Power) , Robbie Nahas (Roos), Tom Derickx (Swans) and other inefficient solar powers into new sustainable AFL environments causing a sharp rise in value and energy after years of Punt Road sluggish output. Attempts to kickstart an alternative energy source with the influx of other club’s spent fuel rods has resulted in an expectations melt down that will warp the DNA of hope for many half lives to come. This is the club that selected now out of the league Richard Tambling over Lance Franklin and Jarrod Roughead back in that super draft in 2005.  With the discernible susurration of a record 65,165 saplings in the stands hungry for finals oxygen after a 30 year finals El Nino, there’s no lack of will for change.

Their opponent tonight is the unpredictable and much maligned North Melbourne whom pundits conveniently forget have put Sydney, Fremantle and Port Adelaide to the tip so far this season and are looking to reinforce their place at the AFL Climate Commission G8.

Yet, tonight, the Tigers proceed to burn fossil fuels with a lack of foresight and discipline in taking their eye off the big climate picture and exercising indulgence in picking off their Roo opponents with macho burnouts.  5 North Melbourne goals come from off the ball free kicks and back chat 50 metre penalties. Ty Vickery opens up Michael Firrito’s cheek to score 2 weeks off, while Matt Thomas belts Boomer for a week off. Richmond at game end are 13th at 3 wins and 8 losses and officially toast, which as you know cant be recycled – yet.

A tight struggle in the first quarter is undercut in the second term by an inspired 4 goal burst by Damien Martin to propel Richmond to a 35 point lead at half time with the Roos recycling their on again off again game. Contemplating an early exit to beat the rush back to Ballarat, a social club inspired piping hot cup of Nescafe derived from a sample of the 20,000 litres of Etihad roof derived rain water implores us to stay to await the potential of a fightback. What follows is nothing short of a miracle.

Scotty pulls Majak Daw from the action, swinging Liam Anthony into the backline to balance the big men Petrie and Black up forward and placing his faith in his midfielders Swallow, Ziebell and Cunnington to compliment the goal cheek of Brent Harvey and Robbie Nahas. Up in the medallion club, two Roos members debate the merits of Daws place in the side and get into a punching match clearing the bay and causing coiffured members to run for cover protecting their costly drinks. It’s hard to believe that only a clearance bonfire is needed – lit to purge the entrails of that lack of competitiveness shown by the shinboners in that shameful second quarter.

Drew Petrie, big boned Roo forward has been so out of form he looked destined for the scrap heap with so little influence on the game to half time, he’s only scored zero fantasy points. Some big grabs, a  couple of Richmond defensive panics and subsequent free kicks and Drew is back in the big bin with 4 goals for company. 2013 delisted Tiger Robbie Nahas whom just retired AFL supremo Andy Demitriou reveled in emphasising the arse in his surname on Brownlow medal night, saves his best North game for his ex teamates goaling twice at critical times on the run to empty the gas tank on the Tiger rig.

A total of 9 third quarter goals keeps the goal umpire’s chiropractor on speed dial as his neck cranes again and again from the Kangaroo onslaught. By three quarter time via Roo conduction, a 35 point deficit has to a 13 point lead. The final quarter is a slow tease until the Roos cut loose to cruise out to a 28 point win. Again its hugs in the members as we shed our inhibitions to generate our own heat while celebrating anew the uncertainty principle that is North Melbourne.

The Government must intervene to make Damien Martin captain of Richmond now. He’s got some rough edges, lacks discipline from time to time, but is an aggressive talented game breaker with a touch of the ol Richmond arrogance who leads from the front with a passion sorely lacking in their present leaders.

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