|
Telstra is down there may be no ghost this week - oh don't go topping yourselves, read this instead (it'll do the same thing).
Circling Crows.
Bloody hell I thought we were going to pinch it. I really did. Despite the
3 basketball refs who didn’t know this was a contact sport, despite
Grant’s annual slaughter of the Bluebaggers, despite Harvey pretending he
was 25 years old – in fact I think Pagan must have irked Harvey and Grant
– they seem to delight in sticking the boots into us.
Despite the quiet game of Murph, the loss of Eddie and Fev’s corkie (in
fact after tat last quarter effort, I think someone should whack Fev in
the thigh every time he runs out) for a moment the lights captured the
dew and refracted light dazzled me with a navy blue comeback. Like all
dreams though the alarm bells ring and reality kicks your shins. We lost.
At least this year the duration of a possible win is far longer than last
year. No longer is it over by half time. In fact usually we are in front
so that’s half a game of real enjoyment. Then there is this third quarter
spluttering where the kids legs turn to jelly and the brains forget the
lessons of summer. Then the last quarter where it looks like we are done
like a dog’s dinner until some spark and we come charging back then the
loss.
Whoever wrote this script knew what they were doing. My heart’s an ice
skater now, all fast delights and skidding halts!
Memo No.1 - for the Giesh – can you add Murph to that exclusive list of
yours! Fair dinkum if another damn player buries his face so far into the
turf he can buy take-aways in China I’m going to jump the fence! That’s of
course, if we happen to be playing in Melbourne, which is rarely these
next, few weeks. How the interstaters must be laughing that some
Victorian clubs even play home games interstate!
I was pleased with Setanta’s efforts, thought Cain showed that he may be
able and Carrots played a ripper.
Memo No. 2 – Denis – Leave young Carrots in the middle and maybe, please,
play Tex there also. Oh and how about Gibbsy to the forward line to
replace Betts?
So Laidley makes it five on the trot and worse, has a brilliant coaching
record against our Denis – seems this topsy-turvy world of AFL is just
going to continue being odd – ad infinitum – I am getting old and I do
miss the good old days but even my 13 year old misses the good old
days!!!!! He remembers when we used to win regularly, back in the days
when he’d listen to his dear old Da, back when he thought I knew what I
was talking about.
Now I mention going to the football and his eyes smoulder with rage, his
fists clench and he checks his calendar, makes a few calls on his mobile,
checks the releases of new play station games. He is currently playing
soccer on the PC – get it Andrew, get it! the kid is playing soccer on the
pc because that’s more enjoyable than trotting along to another Blues
loss, but hey you continue running the AFL as you see fit and good luck to
all the interstaters – hang on now I understand why the Roos are playing
interstate!
Memo 3 – Andrew – no more changes to the draft rules, the priority picks
or anything else that will make it even harder for Carlton to recover. We
get it, you do not like us. Sorry for the melee, for Fev, for John
Elliott, for whoever whacked you when you played for North and for
whatever else it is that has got a bug so far up your bum I can see its
antenna’s poking out your nostrils – or is that just nasal hairs?
So to this week; this week the crows are circling. I feel like a cowboy in
a Western. We’ve swung the wagons into a circle and we await the savage
attack from the South Australian ferals! They are not crows above, they
are vultures waiting to feast on the bluebagger carcass.
Well they can go hungry. This week we’ll not play Custer to their Sitting
Bull. This week we’ll raise the Bluebagger banner and fly the flag (and to
hell with the negative press McEddies fat finger of blame, Mike Sheehan’s
jaundiced views, the fines and Andrew’s silly little laments
So come on boys, we Navy Bluers are made of far sterner stuff. Let the
Crows fly into town, let them preen their shiny feathers and set up for
their boring style of play. Let their tight-lipped, tragic coach sit in
the box staring into his sad, dark soul while his players bore the
universe into a black hole. Let them come. We’ll show them our bright Navy
Blue Universe.
Fev to bag eight (especially if someone whacks his thigh on the way down
the race) because Rutten cannot keep up with a leading Lance let alone Fev
on a dash. Look for Fev on the lead boys, deliver to his chest not his
head and he’ll send Rutten home featherless. Stick Houla on McLeod, let Tex
loose in the middle and Carrots to go head to head with Goodwin.
Come on, blow the blue bugle boys, Raise your heads, lift your eyes and
honour all forward’s leads. We can win this! The Crows have no song, just
a raucous squawk. Let them hear our youthful voices boys.
Let Murph run free, Blackers to get leather poisoning and The Irishman to
stand taller than his ancient namesake. Good luck to Harts, hope he kicks a bag.
Look for sticky fingers Fisher fellas and we’ll be singing Jumping Jack Flash
to their Honky Tonk Woman (always wanted to get a Stones reference into
one of these).
We can do it. We can break the losing trend and return to the winner’s
board. Come on Bluebaggers, lift your spirits, lift your bluebagger wings,
lift yourselves on the glorious history and tradition of this most famous
of clubs and we’ll fly higher than any back-soul Crow!
Blues by 35 in a stirring rendition of ‘They ‘aint heavy, they’re just
the Crows!’
Go Blues!
_________________
This type of slight is alien in the more cultured part of the world - Walsh. Its up there with mad dogs, Englishmen and the midday sun!
|
Login
Register
FAQ
