well, in the absence of a grand thesis, A Sports Guy offers the following thoughts and recollections from another episode of the greatest game in the history of sports' greatest series of games... State of Origin!
The game just wasn't that good. It picked up in the second half when NSW got close, but it was ultimately characterised by opportunities blown rather than seized. That's not what footy's all about! In particular, the Lockyer and Folau tries were an absolute joke. Inglis, ok, he's as hard to stop at the line as Willie Mason in his prime, harder actually. But those two soft tries were pretty much the game - apart from that NSW defended well on their line and the Qld attack wasn't great. All four halves had quiet nights, other than a bit of passing.
I obviously haven't watched enough football this year, at least with the sound up, because I now fully understand my mate G Man's dislike of Gus Gould. Gould has something to offer, no doubt. There are precious few voices out there with the spark of life. But he just can't expand enough to fill a void that big, much as he tries. A large percentage of Australians were praying he would keep poking Rabs in the ribs last night. His warm up speech was woeful. I think he might need a holiday.
Thank Christ Jarryd Hayne's not a QUEENSLANDER!!!, otherwise things would be grim, grim, grimmer. He made Billy Slater look like a slouch, though Slater was tired. Reading an SMH article about his resurgence as a man and player, I was struck by his comment about being impressed by how hard the Fijian side trained during the World Cup*. People said the same thing about Michael Jordan - he trained as hard as he played. Could something so simple be the key to success? Probably helps to be a hulking freak of an athlete too.
It must be a strange experience for Craig Bellamy. He's normally used to his finely crafted well honed Melbourne team doing what they do. But this team was a shambles, poorly assembled and full of players who must surely hate him. How else do you explain the David Williams chip ahead and Jamie Lyon run into touch in the dying minutes? The use of Josh Morris was embarrassing, while Farah, Wallace and Gidley all had virtually no impact. I think Nate Myles kicked better than Wallace last night. Lockyer didn't kick a lot, but his little chip at the end to force a repeat set was pure class - something only Joey Johns or Shifty Sherwin could have done.
For me the low point of the game was Paul Gallen being stuck in a tackle 30m away when a fight broke out involving Hard Man Mick Crocker (or is he an Enforcer? or a Grub? No, that's Gallen. That reminds me, remember when Tonie Carroll used to be Darren Lockyer's Protector - no wait, Minder? It looks like Sam Thaiday played that role last night, but what I really want to say is, can we please call him Darren Lockyer's Angel? That would be great.)
I think we can look forward to Game 3. NSW won't give a flying f*ck and neither will Qld. As a result we might get a decent game. Hopefully there'll be a few selection surprises, such as Les Biles being installed as a selector, Jason Alchin as NSW coach and Jason Taylor as starting NSW halfback. NSW truly blew it, but Qld is a much better team anyway so that's alright. In the long tea break of the soul, NSW players will surely admit that 'twas their fate to play in a Qld-dominated era. These things wax and wane, like the grime in a shower and NSW will have their chance again. That may be little consolation to them as they drown their sorrows for the next 72 hours.
* Not a real World Cup
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Sunday, June 07, 2009
A Sports Mailbag
Continuing the fine tradition of completely ripping off The Sports Guy, here’s A Sports Guy’s first ever mailbag. Actually, I didn’t really open a bag with mail from these people, but I like to think if they did write and it ended up in a bag, I would open it and read and reply as follows.
Q: Oh yeah, I am feeling it. Nadal out, then two come from behind five set victories which sandwiched me knocking off a local hero. And now the final against the amazing Robin Soderling, who the last time I checked has lost every single one of the nine times we’ve played. My question is, after I win the French, thereby equalling but effectively also surpassing Pete, what should I focus on next?
-- R. Federer, Paris
A Sports Guy: Look, I don’t blame you for being cocky. You’ve got a little of your swagger back, even as you look more vulnerable than ever. If you do win the final, you will be hard pressed to find new challenges. How does simply staying at or near the top sound? Nadal ain’t going away, Djokovic has broken through once and, assuming he doesn’t lose interest, has at least one more slam in him. Andy Murray’s got the hunger (Wimbledon, anyone?), and there’s a couple other up and comers that sense that their time is coming. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a non-Nadal/you slam winner as early as Wimbledon or the U.S., which is something you couldn’t have said confidently the last, what – five years?
Your trajectory now is sadly only downwards, but only someone like you could be disappointed with what that means - winning two, maybe three more slams in the next few years, with an outside chance of a sentimental victory at Wimbledon afterwards when you’re well and truly into the Legionnaire’s hat phase of your career.
By the way, I disagree with your statement that winning the French will allow you to surpass Sampras. Obviously you’re implying that because he never won on clay and now you have, you’re at last the better champion. Thing is, not only did Sampras never won on clay, he never even make the semis. This is your fourth final in a row, with only Nadal standing between you and the last three trophies (though he stood between you and the trophy in the way Jaws stood between swimmers and carefree frolicking in the ocean). It’s only total Slams that will really let you surpass Sampras (winning more Wimbledons would be a nice touch), but you long ago surpassed him on clay.
Q: I don’t get it. I beat Nadal, and then unlike almost every other giant killer in grand slam history, I win several more matches to get to the final. Yet people think Federer will win. Surely he’ll be easier to beat than Nadal. What gives?
-- R. Soderling, Paris.
ASG: That’s a fair point actually. Not only does no one except Roger Federer’s psychoanalyst give you a chance of winning, not even the analyst wants you to win. Despite (or is it because of?) Federer’s unbearable loss at Wimbledon followed by his choke at the Aussie, people love him more than ever. After the Australian Open you couldn’t have even convinced his wife that he was the number one anymore, yet still he’s the people’s favourite. Along with Robby Ginepri, he really is the people’s prince. Sorry Robin.
Q: You know how I was incredibly philosophical and mature about my loss at the French? It was all lies. It kind of sucks being number one now.
-- R. Nadal, Mallorca
ASG: Chin up buddy, you’re still young. You’ve been around for what seems like ages, but you’re only 23. You’ve easily got another four, five years at your peak, if you’re so motivated. In fact, I’d kind of like to see you pick up another three or four French Opens. Assuming you keep picking up the odd other slam, in the eyes of the public this will actually elevate the French, which has always played Cronk to the other slams’ Inglis, Smith and Slater.
But you better get used to guys structuring their game on how to beat you, not Federer. That’s what makes it so hard for tennis players now – they have to figure out how to beat you and Federer. But it will also bring the standard of play to another level. Anyone who can beat both of you – in the same tournament – will be something to behold. Sorry Robin.
Q: How long am I gonna have to hold up the fort until some other decent Australian players come along? Currently the next best player after me is Pat Cash, and he’s ranked 112 on the Seniors Tour. The XYs are in worse shape now than the women, and they only have one active player. I just want to settle down and become a colour commentator, I could so do that. I mean, how the hell is Darren Cahill getting paid by ESPN?
-- L. Hewitt, Adelaide
ASG: I totally agree that you’d make a great commentator. You’ve never been afraid to speak your … [searching for the right adjective] … [still searching] … active mind and you’d be an asset to any commentary team. Australian tennis is in worse shape than men’s basketball – at least the NBL gets media coverage when it dies in the arse. Bernard Tomic, where are you??
As an aside, you can hold your head up when you retire, assuming you retain full use of your neck muscles. Now is as good a time as any to honour some of the greatest lesser great names in tennis. That’s right, I’m talking about… the Two Slam Wonders. Without checking the sport stats vault [Whatever that is, I want one. It would need to be updateable and searchable, and I’m only really interested in Rugby League, Basketball, Tennis, World Cup Football and maybe cricket and some olympic sports. There must be websites with this information, but I want it in a single resource, at my fingertips, and the more quirky stats it has the better. A Sports Gal would be so ashamed of me right now.] I get the feeling that women’s tennis has produced more of these than men’s tennis. Winning a second Grand Slam really carves out a space for you. It says ‘the first one might’ve been a fluke, but this one wasn’t, I swear to god.’ Hmm, right now the only other member of the TSW club I can think of is another Australian, Pat Rafter. Great player to watch, would’ve won Wimbledon if it wasn’t for Crying Pete and Crazy Goran. Sorry, where was I?
Q: When will people start calling me supercoach?
-- M. Meninga, QLD
ASG: After handing over defensive coordination to Trevor Gillmeister, offensive coordination to Neil Henry, substitution coordination to Kevvy Walters, on field drinks supply & tactical update coordination to Alfie Langer, team bonding coordination to Julian O’Neill and TV viewer irritation coordination to Ben Ikin, I’m not sure you’re technically a coach any more. But you’re definitely a supersupervisor. You’ve got more people to thank than an Academy Award winner.
Q: I’m a lifelong NSW supporter and I’ve had a gutful! Those banana benders had better enjoy the next few days, because they’ll be in a world of pain come game two. The NSW boys are gonna come back with such fury, such passion, such determination and such skill that the cane toads won’t know what hit ‘em. CAAARRNNNN NSW, FIRE UP!!!!
-- Passionate NSW supporter, NSW
ASG: Oh dear, I’m hallucinating again. NSW doesn’t have any passionate supporters. There can’t be that much difference between country NSW and country QLD. But I guess there’s a world of difference between Brisbane and Sydney. Whatever it is, Sydney once again lays claim to some of the lamest sports fans in the world. Of course, individual teams have some crazy loyal supporters, but in terms of overall fan base, match attendance, amount of noise and atmosphere generated we suck. Go team!
Q: Oh yeah, I am feeling it. Nadal out, then two come from behind five set victories which sandwiched me knocking off a local hero. And now the final against the amazing Robin Soderling, who the last time I checked has lost every single one of the nine times we’ve played. My question is, after I win the French, thereby equalling but effectively also surpassing Pete, what should I focus on next?
-- R. Federer, Paris
A Sports Guy: Look, I don’t blame you for being cocky. You’ve got a little of your swagger back, even as you look more vulnerable than ever. If you do win the final, you will be hard pressed to find new challenges. How does simply staying at or near the top sound? Nadal ain’t going away, Djokovic has broken through once and, assuming he doesn’t lose interest, has at least one more slam in him. Andy Murray’s got the hunger (Wimbledon, anyone?), and there’s a couple other up and comers that sense that their time is coming. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a non-Nadal/you slam winner as early as Wimbledon or the U.S., which is something you couldn’t have said confidently the last, what – five years?
Your trajectory now is sadly only downwards, but only someone like you could be disappointed with what that means - winning two, maybe three more slams in the next few years, with an outside chance of a sentimental victory at Wimbledon afterwards when you’re well and truly into the Legionnaire’s hat phase of your career.
By the way, I disagree with your statement that winning the French will allow you to surpass Sampras. Obviously you’re implying that because he never won on clay and now you have, you’re at last the better champion. Thing is, not only did Sampras never won on clay, he never even make the semis. This is your fourth final in a row, with only Nadal standing between you and the last three trophies (though he stood between you and the trophy in the way Jaws stood between swimmers and carefree frolicking in the ocean). It’s only total Slams that will really let you surpass Sampras (winning more Wimbledons would be a nice touch), but you long ago surpassed him on clay.
Q: I don’t get it. I beat Nadal, and then unlike almost every other giant killer in grand slam history, I win several more matches to get to the final. Yet people think Federer will win. Surely he’ll be easier to beat than Nadal. What gives?
-- R. Soderling, Paris.
ASG: That’s a fair point actually. Not only does no one except Roger Federer’s psychoanalyst give you a chance of winning, not even the analyst wants you to win. Despite (or is it because of?) Federer’s unbearable loss at Wimbledon followed by his choke at the Aussie, people love him more than ever. After the Australian Open you couldn’t have even convinced his wife that he was the number one anymore, yet still he’s the people’s favourite. Along with Robby Ginepri, he really is the people’s prince. Sorry Robin.
Q: You know how I was incredibly philosophical and mature about my loss at the French? It was all lies. It kind of sucks being number one now.
-- R. Nadal, Mallorca
ASG: Chin up buddy, you’re still young. You’ve been around for what seems like ages, but you’re only 23. You’ve easily got another four, five years at your peak, if you’re so motivated. In fact, I’d kind of like to see you pick up another three or four French Opens. Assuming you keep picking up the odd other slam, in the eyes of the public this will actually elevate the French, which has always played Cronk to the other slams’ Inglis, Smith and Slater.
But you better get used to guys structuring their game on how to beat you, not Federer. That’s what makes it so hard for tennis players now – they have to figure out how to beat you and Federer. But it will also bring the standard of play to another level. Anyone who can beat both of you – in the same tournament – will be something to behold. Sorry Robin.
Q: How long am I gonna have to hold up the fort until some other decent Australian players come along? Currently the next best player after me is Pat Cash, and he’s ranked 112 on the Seniors Tour. The XYs are in worse shape now than the women, and they only have one active player. I just want to settle down and become a colour commentator, I could so do that. I mean, how the hell is Darren Cahill getting paid by ESPN?
-- L. Hewitt, Adelaide
ASG: I totally agree that you’d make a great commentator. You’ve never been afraid to speak your … [searching for the right adjective] … [still searching] … active mind and you’d be an asset to any commentary team. Australian tennis is in worse shape than men’s basketball – at least the NBL gets media coverage when it dies in the arse. Bernard Tomic, where are you??
As an aside, you can hold your head up when you retire, assuming you retain full use of your neck muscles. Now is as good a time as any to honour some of the greatest lesser great names in tennis. That’s right, I’m talking about… the Two Slam Wonders. Without checking the sport stats vault [Whatever that is, I want one. It would need to be updateable and searchable, and I’m only really interested in Rugby League, Basketball, Tennis, World Cup Football and maybe cricket and some olympic sports. There must be websites with this information, but I want it in a single resource, at my fingertips, and the more quirky stats it has the better. A Sports Gal would be so ashamed of me right now.] I get the feeling that women’s tennis has produced more of these than men’s tennis. Winning a second Grand Slam really carves out a space for you. It says ‘the first one might’ve been a fluke, but this one wasn’t, I swear to god.’ Hmm, right now the only other member of the TSW club I can think of is another Australian, Pat Rafter. Great player to watch, would’ve won Wimbledon if it wasn’t for Crying Pete and Crazy Goran. Sorry, where was I?
Q: When will people start calling me supercoach?
-- M. Meninga, QLD
ASG: After handing over defensive coordination to Trevor Gillmeister, offensive coordination to Neil Henry, substitution coordination to Kevvy Walters, on field drinks supply & tactical update coordination to Alfie Langer, team bonding coordination to Julian O’Neill and TV viewer irritation coordination to Ben Ikin, I’m not sure you’re technically a coach any more. But you’re definitely a supersupervisor. You’ve got more people to thank than an Academy Award winner.
Q: I’m a lifelong NSW supporter and I’ve had a gutful! Those banana benders had better enjoy the next few days, because they’ll be in a world of pain come game two. The NSW boys are gonna come back with such fury, such passion, such determination and such skill that the cane toads won’t know what hit ‘em. CAAARRNNNN NSW, FIRE UP!!!!
-- Passionate NSW supporter, NSW
ASG: Oh dear, I’m hallucinating again. NSW doesn’t have any passionate supporters. There can’t be that much difference between country NSW and country QLD. But I guess there’s a world of difference between Brisbane and Sydney. Whatever it is, Sydney once again lays claim to some of the lamest sports fans in the world. Of course, individual teams have some crazy loyal supporters, but in terms of overall fan base, match attendance, amount of noise and atmosphere generated we suck. Go team!
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Beak Reader
Falling fancifully in my tree
A thought was intercepted
Steal my berries will you, c^^t
For I’m a beakreader
Tis a gift I’ve had since birth
and honed with hours of practice
Some birds fear me - with good reason
They’re not used to being eavesdropped
Many stories I have heard
But one sticks in my craw
A tale of lust and mystery
concerning a macaw
A thought was intercepted
Steal my berries will you, c^^t
For I’m a beakreader
Tis a gift I’ve had since birth
and honed with hours of practice
Some birds fear me - with good reason
They’re not used to being eavesdropped
Many stories I have heard
But one sticks in my craw
A tale of lust and mystery
concerning a macaw
Monday, June 01, 2009
Sometimes fleeting, rarely absolute…
Guest Post by Gavel
Witnessing scenes of unbridled joy can be fun…
Last night was cold and wet. Luckily I was warm watching TV. A game of footy, two dud teams. Sharks (hehehe) and Eels (hohoho) - both sans their best players on SOO duty. This year, even with their best players, these teams hover between poor and frail.
Anyhow, players ran one-out from dummy half, or made simple passing moves at a modest pace. The Eels soon led a low-scoring affair. Ho hum. Until about 12 minutes from time when the Sharks jagged a try to draw level! Not in the script. Then with 5 to go Shark skipper Barrett sent a wobbly drop kick one centimetre over the cross-bar. The Eels were not up to the challenge, and before we knew it the full-time siren signalled victory to the underdogs.
That was when something funny happened. Now there wasn’t a ‘crowd’ as such, only small pockets of fans dotted around the ground. However there was one noticeable group of about 30 or 40 Shark fans, all decked out in their matching blue Sharks jerseys. This group was right on the boundary fence, and the final play involved a Shark taking the ball into touch right under their noses.
They erupted in glee, and so did the Shark players, who all raced over to that area and jumped on top of each other. Scenes normally associated with grand final victory. Fans and players, relief, joy, redemption, victors at last, grins, shrieking, whooping, group hugs, dancing, the whole bit. Players on one side of the fence, the fans right there with them on the other side. It was a party!
It was stupid, and yet I couldn’t help thinking it was nice to see people so happy! The high for those fans and players was so intense, it made me wonder…
Now most people would have heard about the notorious Sharks this year. Matt Johns sex scandals, bankruptcy, the CEO and the female staffer with a black eye, prostitutes & sex toys in the dressing sheds, star player drug bust, major sponsors bailing out. This week the team captain fined for a racist remark. And oh yes, nine losses in row… and counting.
That’s as low as a club can get. The frustration of the players, the disappointment and angst of the fans, would have been building for months, reaching a crescendo of misery with the succession of scandals and disasters of the last month.
Three aspects of the joyous celebration struck me.
Firstly, the group aspect. A group of fans. A group of players. I was struck by that. Sharing the emotion with their comrades almost seemed to be itself a factor in its escalation.
Secondly, expectation. More accurately, lack thereof. Eels were favourites, the bookies had opened a market on whether the Sharks would ever win again. Eels led until the last minutes. Had the sheer unexpectedness of the victory made it that much sweeter? I was struck by that question.
Thirdly, the very depth of emotional low that immediately preceded the fine event. What a turnaround! Do we first need a depth in order to scale a height? That thought also struck me. I was thrice struck.
Whatever the psychological mechanics, the net result appeared nothing less than ecstatic joy. Of course, when they woke this morning (or possibly this afternoon) the mood may have been tempered somewhat with the realisations they still have a terrible team, are still last, and still devoid of prospects. The club’s survival still hangs by a thread. And its culture is still derided and despised.
Perhaps therein lies the rub. The Sharks had plummeted so low that one very ordinary, narrow win was cause for such uncontrolled joy and celebration? Ah, the sweet relativity of success.
Witnessing scenes of unbridled joy can be fun…
Last night was cold and wet. Luckily I was warm watching TV. A game of footy, two dud teams. Sharks (hehehe) and Eels (hohoho) - both sans their best players on SOO duty. This year, even with their best players, these teams hover between poor and frail.
Anyhow, players ran one-out from dummy half, or made simple passing moves at a modest pace. The Eels soon led a low-scoring affair. Ho hum. Until about 12 minutes from time when the Sharks jagged a try to draw level! Not in the script. Then with 5 to go Shark skipper Barrett sent a wobbly drop kick one centimetre over the cross-bar. The Eels were not up to the challenge, and before we knew it the full-time siren signalled victory to the underdogs.
That was when something funny happened. Now there wasn’t a ‘crowd’ as such, only small pockets of fans dotted around the ground. However there was one noticeable group of about 30 or 40 Shark fans, all decked out in their matching blue Sharks jerseys. This group was right on the boundary fence, and the final play involved a Shark taking the ball into touch right under their noses.
They erupted in glee, and so did the Shark players, who all raced over to that area and jumped on top of each other. Scenes normally associated with grand final victory. Fans and players, relief, joy, redemption, victors at last, grins, shrieking, whooping, group hugs, dancing, the whole bit. Players on one side of the fence, the fans right there with them on the other side. It was a party!
It was stupid, and yet I couldn’t help thinking it was nice to see people so happy! The high for those fans and players was so intense, it made me wonder…
Now most people would have heard about the notorious Sharks this year. Matt Johns sex scandals, bankruptcy, the CEO and the female staffer with a black eye, prostitutes & sex toys in the dressing sheds, star player drug bust, major sponsors bailing out. This week the team captain fined for a racist remark. And oh yes, nine losses in row… and counting.
That’s as low as a club can get. The frustration of the players, the disappointment and angst of the fans, would have been building for months, reaching a crescendo of misery with the succession of scandals and disasters of the last month.
Three aspects of the joyous celebration struck me.
Firstly, the group aspect. A group of fans. A group of players. I was struck by that. Sharing the emotion with their comrades almost seemed to be itself a factor in its escalation.
Secondly, expectation. More accurately, lack thereof. Eels were favourites, the bookies had opened a market on whether the Sharks would ever win again. Eels led until the last minutes. Had the sheer unexpectedness of the victory made it that much sweeter? I was struck by that question.
Thirdly, the very depth of emotional low that immediately preceded the fine event. What a turnaround! Do we first need a depth in order to scale a height? That thought also struck me. I was thrice struck.
Whatever the psychological mechanics, the net result appeared nothing less than ecstatic joy. Of course, when they woke this morning (or possibly this afternoon) the mood may have been tempered somewhat with the realisations they still have a terrible team, are still last, and still devoid of prospects. The club’s survival still hangs by a thread. And its culture is still derided and despised.
Perhaps therein lies the rub. The Sharks had plummeted so low that one very ordinary, narrow win was cause for such uncontrolled joy and celebration? Ah, the sweet relativity of success.
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