Skittles: Nevermind the bollocks

As published by Inside Sport, June 2010

“The Hampstead Club is at the end…almost extinct…the last London Skittle Club…the last Dodo, the sound of one hand clapping”.

With origins dating back to ancient Egypt, and derivative forms around the world clinging to life, skittling stalwart Guy Tunnicliffe’s candor betrays a passion to keep his sport alive.

As a game legislated playable for small stakes in the 1930’s, London Skittles once flourished in hundreds of working class clubs and pubs all over London.  Then in America, significantly it morphed into modern Ten-pin bowling.  But sadly, the WW2 London blitzkriegs destroyed most alleys and skittles (or Nine-pin) became little more than a self descriptive analogy. 

Now the last publicly accessible locale is ironically bunkered away in the cellar of The Freemason’s Arms pub inLondon.  For a small dedicated bunch, life is still all beer and skittles.  Whilst a couple thousand social players chance their arm each year (including the boys from Coldplay one time), there’s just 50 regulars left.  

“My friends and work mates think it’s great and listen to my amazing tales of battles and losses and victories long into the night or until the beer runs out, or they fall asleep.  In my new home inItaly, nobody has ever heard of it so I can use my imagination and stretch theirs to the fullest extent”, muses Tunnicliffe. 

Plenty of wear & tear on the battered old pins

Nine-pin’s uniqueness lies in the 4.5kg antique hardwood object resembling a large Edam cheese, hurled in the air at the pins set in a diamond formation 21 feet away.  It’s a far cry from your sexy Ten-pin style promo.  According to Tunnicliffe, the incredibly noisy bash and crash is ‘often dirty, always sweaty in the summer, and takes about a year of learning to be really, really average’.  One might also find the ungainly throwing action necessitates an appointment with the local chiropractor.  

Players actually have four chances to clear the floor, a par score being 3.  Unlike frequently gratifying Ten-pin strikes, a skittles ‘floorer’ is a feat to be savoured.  Indeed, a hat-trick of one-pointers hasn’t been recorded since 1960. 

Apart from the degree of difficulty, popularity suffers for the loathsome chore of manually resetting the pins.  Being a ‘sticker’ isn’t for the feeble bodied, shifting a ton of weight in total each night.  A paid job from the turn of the 20^th century, The Freemason’s first sticker stuck to his task for nearly 50 years, his successor another 20.   Nowadays two volunteers do the business.  

In Australia, skittles’ dalliance with recognition was brief; notably the Melbourne Cricket Club built an alley underneath its reversible grandstand in 1874, sparking interclub competition.  Unfortunately in 1884 the alley itself ignited and razed the whole grandstand.  The Great War effectively skittled skittles, 1919 being the last recorded use of the MCG alley.

Vintage cheese (image supplied Jed Smith, MCC)

Nine-pin’s pinnacle, the Dewar Challenge Shield, was instituted in 1901 for the winner of the London Championship, a year after the rules were formalised by the Amateur Skittles Association.  Although Tunnicliffe’s son worshipped his status in the sport ‘until he grew up’, the esteem afforded his three ‘World Championships’ by the rest of his family is more akin to a trainspotter!

“Slim hips help.  The throwing style, which has to be totally relaxed and absolutely unstressed, is more about Zen than about strength…a flow…a way of Tao” philosphises Tunnicliffe, unkindly described as ‘weedy’ in one dispatch.  ‘Wiry’ would be more accurate, given a cheese chucking career spanning twenty years.

Typically English, skittles embraces colourful terminology.  Forget cricket’s silly mid-offs and deep fine legs; woe are dreaded splits known as the ‘Gates of Hell’ or ‘The Big Bog’.  Worse, a complete miss is a ‘bolter’, more commonly a ‘bollocks’ shot after a few ales.  Believed to have been coined in 1875, skittles actually claims ownership of the popular refrain.

“Sometimes throwing a bollocks shot can inspire a better throw, as throwing a floorer can completely destroy ones concentration… Each throw is the first throw, the only throw, and always the best throw.  Nothing before matters, nothing after matters”, says Tunnicliffe, either still channeling Zen, or something else.

Perhaps the pertinent question for Tunnicliffe is what beer goes best with skittles?

“I personally prefer London Pride brewed by Fullers Brewery in Chiswick.  I also like Young’s beers, another London Brewery, or Timothy Taylor’s Landlord”.

Hmmm…maybe the beer is the issue.

       
Courtesy Jed Smith, MCC                               The Hampstead Club, London

Asher Keddie and I were there for each other

As published by The Footy Almanac, 28 May 2012

Warning: may contain traces of ‘Pie-nut.  

A paediatrician told me recently the key to navigating toddler tantrums is to lower your expectations of their behaviour by 50%.  It made sense because I’d successfully applied the same theory to maintain my sanity amid the delights and disappointments of Collingwood fandom.

So come Saturday night’s clash between the seriously depleted Magpies and a barnstorming Adelaide, I simply gave it away as a bridge too far.  Rohan Connolly’s article in The Age, where he boldly predicted the Magpies would continue their supreme interstate form, made no difference.  Collingwon’t this time Rohan, but thanks for exposing the fallacy of our supposedly advantageous homey fixture.

Nonetheless, you’d think a genuine match of the round featuring a sure fire ratings winner would be on free-to-air, but these here are crazy times and GWS v Essendon was the lacklustre fare served up by Seven.

This revelation discombobulated my equilibrium, for I faced the mental anguish I refer to as ‘the unbearable lightness of not being there’.  Yes there is Foxtel, but if I was to pitch the business case for pay-TV in my house to the Dragons’ Den panel I’d invoke Theo Paphitis’ searing stare as quickly as haughty Peter Jones could say ‘I’m out’.

I could always disappear into the night and make for the nearest local, but given my wife had been slaving in the kitchen all day preparing for my girl’s 4th birthday party, I wasn’t about to Tom Scully her.

Until now I had no interest and little understanding of the phoney war waged between the AFL, Telstra and Optus.  Perhaps a free crack in the fence view of the game via my iPhone will be valuable after all considering the nature of the current super duper TV deal.

Given I’d been up since the Thunderbirds expecting 50% worse of my two kidlets and being 27% disappointed, to be honest not watching Collingwood and all the associated stress was an appealing notion.

We flicked to my wife/daughter’s team enjoying their training run at the tremendous new Skoda Stadium. The 11,000 Bomber devotees appeared as animated as the equivalent number of orange plastic seats on display. After five minutes of that tedium we gave Eurovision a burst.  Russia’s entry comprising a troupe of pensioners disappointed and saddened me in equal measures.  Is that really what Anna Kournakova will look like one day?

In a bid for husband points I suggested we play a taped episode of Offspring.  About the only relevance of this show to my team, which at this time was engaged in a pitched battle in front of a chock full AAMI Stadium, is Asher Keddie being a dedicated ‘Pie.  Who would have thunk?  Seeing her in a Collingwood jumper in the rooms after the Cats triumph instantly made her 32% more attractive in my view, and her chick drama a little more bearable.

But the suddenly stunning Asher’s hapless character Nina was about to endure the tragic break-up to end all tragic break-ups. This time it was perfect Patrick, played by Matthew Le Nevez (soon to be seen as Dennis Lillee’s chest hair in the upcoming Howzat series). Just as Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon supposedly synchronises with The Wizard of Oz, Nina’s myriad facial contortions and fraught emotional state doubtless matched the abnormally few Collingwood supporters watching from wherever. And bizarrely for me, here I was consumed by neurotic Nina – so much for Offspring being the stress-free alternative.

There was no happy ending and the match at Skoda was almost out of its misery.  I could then and there avail myself of the Pies’ unhappy demise.  But I let it go, I didn’t want to know.  But then I did.  And then I didn’t.   I turned the light out and tried to sleep – a deluded notion given 15 minutes later my urge to pee was as strong as knowing the damage.

I grabbed my iPhone and what????  No!  Yes!!!

I felt robbed.  More so reading the Twitter stream – even taking into account the 47% surplus excitement!! typical to the medium. Sharrod Wellingham said it was a ‘win for the ages’.  Oh, great!

Luckily my friends at my covert Collingwood fansite posted the URL to another covert website that quickly provides free AFL replays of every match.  With an inner glow, the next morning I watched the last quarter with my black and white supporting offspring.  It was nice but knowing the result killed the excitement.

My mind turned to Nina (or was it Asher?).  Ridiculously, maybe there were footy lessons to be learned from the show.  Such as keeping a safe distance is not what makes football, and life, truly worth experiencing.

And you never know the true exaltation of winning unless you’re prepared to take the chance of being disappointed.

Finally, am I sounding like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex & the City?  Good grief, I need to get to the local more often!

A Dick, but time to forgive

As published by The Sunday Age, 20 May 2012

MOSTLY I find reality TV as desirable as an expired egg flip Big M, but I must confess Celebrity Apprentice suckered me in. Good old Jason Akermanis provided the show’s wackiest moment, taking great exception to being fired on the basis he was, God forbid, ”a maverick”. Hilariously, his subsequent tantrum instantaneously demonstrated the reason why he was purged.

The episode had me wondering if – since Aka’s equally petulant departure from the Bulldogs – we’ve seen the last of the AFL’s high risk/high reward players.

Akermanis has a remarkable knack for grabbing headlines and his most recent cameo for the Murray Magpies was no exception. Aka in black and white stripes would have most Collingwood fans gagging, but it cast my mind to a kindred spirit, one of Australian rules’ original headline acts.

Born 100 years prior to Akermanis, Dick Condon was also a maverick – a complex enigma who likewise played in three premierships and won a Champion of the Colony (precursor to the Brownlow). And like Aka, Condon’s standing at the club where he delivered the goods appears irrevocably stained. Condon remains Collingwood’s only 10-year-player never to be made a life member.

The trademarks of the ”Collingwood six-footer” were high marking, twisting in the air and hitting the ground running towards goal, then unheard of ambidextrous disposal by hand and foot, and a cunning bag of tricks that would extricate Condon from the heaviest traffic. Precious few boasted such skill around the turn of the 20th century.

Condon was a leader and a teacher yet was also labelled a selfish individualist. Ironically, Condon was the architect of a fundamentally team-orientated initiative, the significance of which has been somewhat lost in the passage of time.

It’s said that Australian rules progressed little as a spectacle over the initial 40 years. In fact, it was so slow and pack bound that players occasionally sat down to rest when the ball was up the other end. At an exhibition game against Tasmania on a frigid Launceston afternoon in July 1902, the Collingwood innovator and provocateur’s playful experimentation induced a great leap forward that long predated Polly Farmer’s or Ron Barassi’s influence on the modern game.

So undermanned were the Tasmanian opposition that tricky Dicky began toying with them, chipping the new, blunter Sherrin Match II ball over their heads. After a rough return voyage across Bass Strait, followed by a long train journey to Geelong for their next encounter, the low mid-distance kick was employed to devastating effect by Condon and his teammates. The Magpies lost just one more game before taking the 1902 flag.

Condon’s dinky stab kicks revolutionised football, prompting running to create a loose man, positional play and deft kicking skills. With superior fitness to boot, Collingwood backed up with another premiership in 1903.

Had Condon not wrecked his knee in the first quarter of the 1905 grand final, the Magpies would probably have won another. Gradually, the better clubs adopted similar tactics. No longer did brute force alone win the day; Condon was said to have introduced ”science” to the game.

Volatility has long been a side-effect of sporting genius and this was Condon’s affliction. Two weeks after trying to lead his team off the field in a protest against the umpire in a round-robin final against Geelong in 1900, Condon equated the performance of Ivo Crapp, the league’s most experienced official, with his unfortunate surname. After repeated warnings, Condon earned a life ban for his response to a tripping free – the infamous “your girl’s a bloody whore!” tirade.

A newspaper article observed that Condon would now be able to “spend the rest of his days thinking about the joy and glory of his lost future in the game” and that “Collingwood has turned away from him”.

Indeed the Magpies waited 18 months before supporting a successful appeal. The league’s rare generosity not only reunited Collingwood with its star but enabled Condon to improve the sport and usher in a mini-era of success.

Condon’s penchant for trouble also included refusing to wear the customary lace up jumper, fighting with his ruckman at three-quarter-time and a club-imposed suspension (when playing coach) for causing player dissension.

A 1905 newspaper report, referring to “that fiery football genius Dick Condon”, described his coaching as a “combination of brimstone oratory and skilful tactics”. The next year his relationship with captain Alf ”Rosie” Dummett deteriorated and Condon’s days at Victoria Park were numbered.

Between leaving Collingwood and his final insult, joining Richmond without a clearance, Condon spent a year in Hobart umpiring.

Decades after the acrimony, Condon was still revered by legendary Magpies Jock McHale and Bill Strickland. Both rated him the greatest player they’d seen.

And so again to the matter of Collingwood life membership. Of the dozens of recipients there’s many fine (barely recognisable) servants interspersed with household names, plus flag fortunate players such as Leigh Brown with just a few years service. By comparison, Condon achieved more than most. He even changed the game.

Condon may have been abrasive but nothing on his rap sheet stacks up as a hanging offence. He hated losing and possibly lacked patience for teammates without his prodigious talent. Does all that sound familiar?

It’s a …Collingwood win!

Round 7 2003

Collingwood   3.2.20   8.7.55   12.10.82    18.6.114
Adelaide          7.3.45   7.4.46    11.5.71   16.13.109 

VENUE: AAMI Stadium
DATE: Saturday 10 May
CROWD: 44,706
UMPIRES: McLaren, Morris, Nicholls 

COLLINGWOOD
B          Johnson   Prestigiacomo         Lonie
HB      Clement       Wakelin       Woewodin
C          Licuria          Buckley           Williams
HF       Fraser          A Rocca               Burns
F          Tarrant          Molloy            Holland
FOLL  McKee, O’Bree, Scotland
INT     Cole, Shaw, Lokan, Didak
COACH  Malthouse

ADELAIDE
B         Hart                 Bassett             Massie
HB      Torney          McGregor             Bode
C         Bickley           Stenglein        Goodwin
HF      Gallagher          Perrie           Ladhams
F          Johncock          Carey                Burns
FOLL  Clarke, McLeod, Ricciuto
INT     Biglands, Mattner, Crowell, Edwards
COACH  Ayres

BEST
COLLINGWOOD – Woewodin, Licuria, Tarrant, Buckley, Lokan, O’Bree
ADELAIDE – Ricciuto, Burns, Goodwin, Edwards, McLeod, Carey

GOALS:
COLLINGWOOD – Tarrant 4, Didak, Woewodin, Rocca, Lonie 2, Buckley, Fraser, Williams, Licuria, O’Bree, Burns
ADELAIDE – Burns, Carey 4, Ricciuto 3, Ladhams, McLeod 2, Stenglein

PRE-MATCH:
After a comprehensive 11-goal thrashing by Essendon in the ANZAC Day blockbuster and a shocking loss to Sydney at Telstra Dome, the Magpies dropped from third to eighth, and the season in grave danger of running off the rails.  So poor was the perceived effort, the words ‘piss-weak’ appeared on the steps of the players’ changerooms during the week.  The Magpies now had the daunting prospect of facing second placed Adelaide at AAMI stadium. 

Any confidence gleaned from the Woods’ fine record at the venue, and against Adelaide, was countered by an inability to string together four solid quarters in a single game.  In a bid to inject the requisite focus and confidence, Malthouse presented a well produced highlights package on the team bus on the way to the ground (featuring the previous year’s Preliminary final against Adelaide). Additionally, sensing the enormity of the task and the mood of the group, in the pre-match press conference Malthouse espoused pride in his players in an effort to engender solidarity and belief.

THE GAME:
In his 250^th AFL game, Wayne Carey began by taunting the black & whites with two infuriatingly facile goals that required little more than toe-pokes in the square, one of which appeared to come off a Magpie defender’s leg.  Ronnie Burns also saluted twice and Ricciuto once before Fraser kicked the ‘Pies’ first.  Rocca goaled but Ladhams fired through another for Adelaide, followed by a trademark McLeod bomb on the run.  Woewodin scored a late one to reduce the margin to 25 points, but the Magpies were flying very close to the brink.  In Malthouse’s own words Adelaide could have been ‘from here to the moon away’ as 17 clearances to four, and Clarke’s 17 hitouts to McKee’s three would attest.

Collingwood virtually caught Adelaide by surprise in the second stanza when all of a sudden a leaky ruck division was tightened and the work rate noticeably lifted.  Playing positive attacking football led to  Tarrant goaling twice and Woewodin once.  After just five minutes it was ‘game back on’.  The Crows halted the run-on until the 26-minute mark when Didak scored another.  Frustratingly for Collingwood, Carey marked and converted just before the siren to claim a nine point advantage at the break.

Refreshed, Burns, Stenglein and McLeod threatened to take the game away again when they each scored to extend the margin out to 27 points.  As was the trend all night, Collingwood surged once more in a burst of three goals in four minutes via Buckley, Didak and Williams.  Licuria also answered the call to arms with a courageous mark, however Ladhams kept the ‘Pies 11 points at bay with a fine snap.  Woewodin was outstanding in the third quarter with nine kicks in what was undoubtedly his standout game for his newly adopted club.

The Carringbush needed Rocca to make the most of an early opportunity in the last, but disastrously he sprayed wide, and in a double blow, Adelaide swept the ball forward for Carey to revisit past glories – strongly outmarking Prestigiacomo for his fourth.  Ricciuto turned the screws with another for the Crows – the game appearing lost at the 10 minute mark with the difference 23 points in the hostile AAMI Stadium environs.  But by sharking Clarke’s hitouts, Collingwood found a way back, attacking repeatedly.  In a seven minute power play, the Magpies banged on five unanswered goals. Tarrant, Lonie (twice in a minute), O’Bree and Burns fired the shots, earning a seven point break. 

The game was far from over though when Ronnie Burns kicked another (his fourth) to halt the tide.  Rocca then executed a nimble and skilful piece of work for a big man, forcing the ball forward under pressure, and almost soccering it through by accident to swing the advantage back to Collingwood.  It was an epic last quarter; McLeod missed for the Crows, Ricciuto goaled and McLeod missed again to hand the Crows a one point lead at the 29 minute mark.  With the game all but lost, Buckley took possession just forward of centre wing and hoofed a long punt forward.  Tarrant judged the ball would fall short (whilst his opponent Hart slipped anyway), enabling him to take a safe chest mark.  One point in arrears, at very least a draw could be salvaged.  But the ‘Pies desperately needed a win.  The siren blared – a tense Tarrant went back and kicked truly, just.

MOMENTS THAT MATTERED:
As Tarrant lined up to kick, Rocca’s advice was to firstly make sure he didn’t kick into the man on the mark (hardly a confidence builder), but he eased the pressure by reminding him that even a point would at least ensure a draw. Tarrant focused on his technique.  The shock and nervousness felt by Tarrant before taking the shot was evidenced in the kick itself. 

“Towards the end, it started to veer left a bit.  But it just snuck in.  I think I put my hands up pretty early, and the boys were jumping on me.  Then we had a quick look.  But it got in there”, recalled Tarrant.

Indeed, the mostly limp black and white flags and floggers behind the goals gave little indication. With the goal umpire running wide to the post, most Collingwood fans feared the worst.  The two finger signal pricked a 44,000 litre Adelaide balloon, Crow fans deflating as one.  Meanwhile, jubilant Collingwood players piled on each other in the best tradition of baseball’s World Series celebrations.

AFTERMATCH:
Ecstatic Collingwood players mobbed Tarrant, though without Licuria (36 possessions) and Woewodin’s (35) lion hearted performances, the game would have been a whitewash.

Adelaide was left scratching their heads as to how they could lose a game in which they racked up 37 more kicks and 39 more handballs.  Several times the Crows appeared to have the game on toast, but the Magpies’ direct style in the slippery conditions always gave them a chance.  The uncomplimentary words written outside Victoria Park the week before had washed away, replaced on the asphalt by an appropriate ‘Never say die Pies!’

THE HERO:
Chris Tarrant (Collingwood)
Many a Magpie supporter has dreamt or acted out the scenario in their backyard of kicking the winning goal after the siren.  Remarkably, in 119 seasons of football, Tarrant’s cool kick under pressure was the first time Collingwood had won a game in such a manner.  Tarrant enjoyed a blinder of a season in 2003, capped off with All-Australian selection.  Though he had just seven kicks and five marks in this game (the whole team took just 54), four goals on a slippery night for forwards was instrumental in turning the game in Collingwood’s favour.

POSTSCRIPT:
The following week saw Collingwood’s fluky, inconsistent form continue against West Coast; after finding themselves all but out of the game in the first quarter, a Herculean effort wiped an eight goal deficit by late in the third term.  With the four points beckoning midway through the final quarter, the game somehow slipped through Collingwood’s fingers.

After a dismal Round 12 loss to the Hawks, the mid-season break was timely.  Coming back revitalized and focused, the Magpies exceeded all expectations in dropping just one more game, finishing the regular season in second spot.  Excellent form continued through the Qualifying and Preliminary finals, though sadly a number of sensational victories such as this are somewhat tainted by a notorious Grand final implosion against the Lions.

WHAT THEY SAID:
“It’s a…. Collingwood win!”
Commentator Tim Lane builds the tension perfectly as the goal umpire pauses on the verdict. 

“I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.  All I concentrated on was technique, rather than listening to the boos from the crowd and the six blokes standing on the mark.”
The man-of-the-moment Chris Tarrant didn’t allow himself to dwell on the consequences.

“I wouldn’t have wanted it to be anyone on the match committee.  We were all nervous wrecks up there.”
Malthouse at least was happy to have the game rest on Tarrant’s unpredictable left boot.

“I was pretty shaky, actually.”
So was the kick Taz!

“I was so rapt.  It’s what you dream of as a kid growing up, isn’t it?  It’s never happened to me at any level of footy.”
A relieved Tarrant after the goal. 

“Their ability to get an advantage play out of the stoppages probably hurt us in the end.  They (the players) obviously feel very, very ordinary.  You give as much as you can and unfortunately we had to be the loser tonight.”
Shattered Adelaide coach Gary Ayres. 

“I can’t remember winning after the bell.  I didn’t even see the kick.  I asked myself: ‘Do I watch or don’t I watch?’   And by the time I’d looked up we’d kicked it, so I’m a coward and I’m led to believe it wobbled through, so thank God I didn’t watch it.  To have lost that game when we got in front would have been a real kick in the teeth, I think.”
One wonders how many of the 654,000 watching the game on TV covered their eyes like Malthouse.

“Yeah, actually it’s pretty tough, isn’t it?  I love playing footy but I don’t like to get recognized too much walking down the street.  I try to keep my profile down a bit.”
Being the most marketable player for the most supported club in the country sat uneasily with the introverted Chris Tarrant.

Hope and glory

As published by The Footy Almanac, 15 May 2012

“The miserable have no other medicine.  But only hope.”
William Shakespeare (not the glam rocker one)

Whoop it up Geelong and Manly fans.  And jubilant Sky Blues for that matter.  You may never see your team win the big one again!

Ridiculous notion?

Perhaps, but let me remind you lucky sods of the numerous dearly departed Demons who should’ve downed a few more whiskey and sours after their last grand old flag.  Six cups in 10 years, then virtually half a century later and bupkis.   At the rate they’re going the Dees will be waiting another fifty.

Likewise Dragons and Rabbitohs’ faithful – more flags than a Republican rally, however their Gen X-Y-Zees would doubtless trade a bunch of them to see one in living colour.  As for Chicago Cubs fans, the afterglow of that last triumph 104 years ago must provide as much warmth as a candle on the moon.

The saying ‘all good things come to those who wait’ must be hard to cop for certain AFL loyalists locked in a race between the grave and the gratifying payoff they deserve.   And now with an 18 team competition, 50% less likely than it was just a generation ago.

Typically the ‘Aints garner the most pity; 26 wooden spoons over 114 fruitless years (139 if you count pre-VFL/AFL), St Kilda’s first and last flag arrived with decimal currency.  Arguably just as tragic, the Western Bulldogs have made the big dance just twice in 87 seasons, their drought stretching back to the Cinesound Movietone newsreels which reported their finest hour.

Even worse, the last time Norths had cause to unlock their NRL trophy cabinet the Sydney Harbour Bridge was nothing more than an engineer’s rendering.  The Bears are out of hope now, having been booted from the national league in 1999.  Of the current constituents, poor Cronulla’s plight is a parody of The 40 Year Old Virgin.  In third place having just pipped the Storm, perhaps a Hollywood ending this season isn’t out of the question?  The unbridled relief won’t be too dissimilar.

    
Bears and Cubs; North Sydney c1921 had one more flag in them (in 1922), but not so Chicago’s 1908 champs

A good proportion of English Premier League fans do it really hard.  The title odds for more than half the competing teams this season were worse than the conclusive proof of the Loch Ness Monster or the Archbishop of Canterbury confirming the Second Coming of Christ.  Only half a dozen were rated a better chance than the irrefutable discovery of aliens!

What is it about the human condition that elicits such faith and devotion in teams that suffer perennial pigskin allergies come spring?  Or simply don’t have the wherewithal to ever seriously compete with the big boys.  Tribalism and brainwashing aside, that the likes of St Kilda and Richmond still command such passionate and widespread support is a question for Colonel Ripley.  Elsewhere Newcastle United has also garnered an enviable following given they last won the top division in 1927, and few minor trinkets besides.

    
England’s Magpies were also champs in 1927; “8 bloody one!” The familiar pain of Barnestoneworth United.

Australia’s own Magpie ‘Toon Army’ wrote the book on hope, with and without glory.  Collingwood have teased and tormented their ‘loon army’ for half a century.  Just twice in their past 13 attempts have they defied cruel misfortune and excruciating meltdowns in the big one.  But unlike the aforementioned, at least opportunities at the ultimate success have regularly presented.

Given the constant turnover of players and coaches, it’s difficult to fathom how clubs might be so burdened by the sins of the past.  Psychologically, is it possible that the weight of history, expectation and silly notions of curses and bad karma could possibly impact upon professional athletes focused on the job at hand?  Personally I don’t buy the ghost of Norm Smith wearing any blame for Melbourne’s ongoing woes, and I believe in coincidences not Colliwobbles.

    
Say it is so!  Were the White Sox really cursed between 1917-2005?;  Offloading Babe Ruth in 1919 was another spectacular blunder, the Red Sox’ drought stretching between 1918 – 2007

As the ‘Pies could attest, a number of planets must align to snag a flag and luck cannot be discounted.  A favourable draw, injuries, umpiring, suspensions… the list goes on.  Timing is another.  During St George’s astonishing stretch between 1956 and 1966, only poor old Wests ever seriously challenged, yet hit the same immovable object every time.  Last year the Woods achieved a sensational 22 win season; problem was, so did the Cats.  The best opportunity for a peaking side to stock the shelf occurred between the Brisbane and Geelong hegemonies.

Consistent failure may be a self perpetuating manifestation though.  When the natives have been restless for decades, the doomsday clock always reads two minutes to midnight.  Those striving within and agitators lingering on the periphery all have their theories on how to reach the pinnacle.  So desperate for success, the prospect of sticking to long term plans requires patience that was exhausted long ago – the next upheaval just a few phone calls away.

     
‘Never again like this’.  Like Man City, the Cats also endured a 44 year wait, but there was no divine intervention for the Saints at the 44 year mark

NRL and AFL administrators know too well what awaits the vast majority each year, and for some, most of their lives.  They try and ween us off club support as footy’s be all and end all.  And in most instances, generous yet ultimately predictable final eight series do little more than inspire false hope and emptier pockets.  Although carefully massaged competitions featuring drafts and salary caps certainly encourage more sharing of the love than soccer leagues monopolised by the world’s biggest tycoons.

Furthermore, the disillusioned can take solace in the occasional parting of the waters.  Baseball’s Red Sox and White Sox, the Sydney Swans and Wests Tigers to name a few.  And if you’re still lamenting a lost cause, consider one shirtless bookmaker in the early 1960’s. His 1000/1 that man wouldn’t walk on the moon by 1970 seemed like a pretty safe offer at the time.

As Saints fans will forever ruminate after being bowled a wrong-’un in the shadows of the Ponsford Stand in 2010.

‘Missed it by that much!’

Waiting for the siren’s call

Round 8 2002

Collingwood         5.1.31       8.9.57    14.12.96    17.12.114
Brisbane Lions   7.2.44    10.5.65      12.9.81     16.15.111

VENUE: Colonial Stadium
DATE: Saturday 18 May
CROWD: 46,279
UMPIRES: Sheehan, Ellis, Nicholls

COLLINGWOOD
B Johnson Prestigiacomo Clement
HB Lonie Wakelin Cloke
C Fraser Buckley N. Davis
HF Lockyer Rocca Burns
F Holland Tarrant Molloy
FOLL McKee, Licuria, O’Bree
INT McGough, Freeborn, Cummings, Betheras
COACH Malthouse

BRISBANE LIONS
B Bolton Michael Ashcroft
HB C. Scott Leppitsch Pike
C Notting Voss Power
HF Black Brown B Scott
F McRae Lynch Bradshaw
FOLL McDonald, Lappin, Akermanis
INT Hart, Charman, White, Headland
COACH Matthews

BEST
COLLINGWOOD – Buckley, Rocca, Tarrant, Licuria, Cloke, Betheras, McGough
BRISBANE – Voss, Black, Keating, Akermanis, Headland

GOALS:
COLLINGWOOD – Tarrant 5, Betheras, Rocca 3, Buckley 2, O’Bree, N Davis, Fraser, Cummings
BRISBANE – McRae 3, Akermanis, Headland 2, Voss, Bradshaw, Brown, Pike, Charman, Keating, Lynch, Power, Lappin,

PRE-MATCH:
Reigning Premier Brisbane was in sensational form having cemented top spot after a 57-point thrashing of the highly rated Port Adelaide. Meanwhile, after impressive wins over Essendon and St Kilda, a Rocca-inspired Collingwood had struggled to a fortuitous 10 point victory over an inaccurate Western Bulldogs. It was said the team’s listless performance was due to setting themselves for the Lions’ showdown.

The build-up for this game was intense, the reigning Premiers set to take on the young up and comers in a battle for top spot. This was to be the litmus test verifying Collingwood’s rapid rise from competition easy-beat to the real deal. The atmosphere at Colonial Stadium was electric prior to the game. Magpie supporters had not seen their team play a final since 1994, and this was the nearest comparison for eight long years.

The Magpies were shooting for five straight wins, however a major bogey confronted Collingwood, having not beaten Brisbane since Round 22 1996. A solid core of eight accomplished players that were part of that Brisbane team remained, whilst in that time all but three Collingwood players had departed. If Brisbane’s awesome runners Voss, Lappin, Black, Akermanis, Power, McRae and Hart weren’t enough, Lynch, Brown and Bradshaw presented a monumental challenge for the unheralded Collingwood defence.

After a winning streak of 20, the Lions were on the prowl after dropping two of their previous four. Collingwood’s youth and recycled players would need to play their very best and most disciplined football to come close to the Brisbane juggernaut.

THE GAME:
After Cummings slotted the first, Rocca added another with a neat set shot from the boundary at the eight minute mark.  Akermanis jagged a quick reply, followed in quick succession by Keating and Pike.  Nick Davis got one back however Brisbane were as dangerous as ever in the first term, and it was their midfield that inflicted most damage on the scoreboard. At one stage Voss was crunched in a pack, courageously found his feet only to stagger about, punch drunk from the effects of the blow. McRae goaled twice in a minute for the Lions before Tarrant kicked truly, but again in time-on McRae scored. After 32 minutes had elapsed Mal Michael was caught napping by Holland when clearing the ball, allowing Buckley to swoop in and slot the ‘Pies much needed fifth from the 50 metre arc. There was still time for Akermanis to kick yet another in a protracted 34 minute quarter. Hopes for a free-flowing, man-on-man encounter had so far been fulfilled.

 
Voss cops friendly fire in the shape of Brown’s elbow; Tarrant outmarks Bolton

Rocca again opened the scoring for the Magpies in the second term via a timely soccer from the square. The teams traded goal for goal. Following Jonathon Brown, Rocca pinpointed Tarrant before Bradshaw provided the answer. After a lull in scoring, Tarrant took a strong, spectacular one hander and unleashed a long accurate response late in the quarter. Buckley and Brad Scott engaged in a tussle that generated reports. Both teams closed ranks but the game was still a ripping tussle.

 
Voss bravely returned, marked by McGough; Tarrant pulled in a superb one hander before half time

Lynch goaled early after the recommencement however Fraser, and Buckley a few minutes later, had the ‘Pies back on track. Umpire Ellis brought out the book again, reporting Ben Johnson for striking Power. Voss kicked an inspirational goal for the Lions, spearing through a classic having taken a mark just out of Buckley’s desperate reach. The two champions in a head-to-head battle was alone worth the cost of admission. Surprisingly, for the remaining 15 minutes it was Collingwood that appeared uplifted by Voss’ deeds. Tarrant continued to prove a headache for Craig Bolton, but it was crowd favourite Betheras’ steal and snap across his body followed by his composure for another on the run that raised the roof as time-on commenced. Rocca kicked another to take the buoyant Magpies 15 points clear at the last change.

 
You’re in the book Johnno; Betheras kicks a crucial goal 

A spectacular goal by Headland delivered a message the Lions would not give up without a massive fight. Again Betheras was the thorn in Brisbane’s side, replying a couple minutes later, judging the spillage from a Nick Davis long bomb. Lappin replied and it was still game-on. Molloy took a strong mark, the forward thrust resulting in O’Bree’s snap around the corner pushing the margin out to 14 points. Soon after, a leading Tarrant was nudged in the back and his cool conversion put the ‘Pies within sniffing distance of a victory to savour. But few doubted Brisbane would rise to the challenge, and sure enough, as the young Magpies flagged, Brisbane lifted. A superb mark by Lappin resulted in a Brown point but the Magpies were under pressure, and Headland made Clement pay for an errant kick-in. A dubious free to Brown (who missed again) had the margin at two goals with just over ten minutes remaining. Collingwood was hanging on as if they had one hand gripping the edge of the cliff, struggling to find relief beyond their half back line.

Licuria marked in the square to stymie White’s shot on goal, however Charman goaled brilliantly from the boundary line. Magpie fans squirmed in their seats with the margin just a goal with eight long minutes to go. To have played so magnificently and lose from here would be heartbreaking. When Lynch jumped into Rocca on the wing, the big man went down sore. A Luke Power poster from the boundary followed by an errant shot by Akermanis (rushed through by Lonie) had hearts in mouths. In a rare foray, Lockyer’s apparently perfect pass was intercepted at the last second by livewire Power, just as Tarrant looked set to devour the ball. Power and Lappin caused the most nightmares as the ‘Pies hung onto their four-point lead, three minutes remaining on the clock. A free plucked out from a stoppage was lazily hooked behind by White, followed by Wakelin bravely fending off desperate attempts by McRae and Power. The Lions kept coming until the bitter end. Finally, the siren sounded after a gut-wrenching 30 minutes played mostly in Brisbane’s half of the ground.

 
Betheras kicks another; Cloke marks in the final act of the game

MOMENTS THAT MATTERED:
Mark McGough’s ANZAC Medal in his second AFL game catapulted the 17 year old rookie into the spotlight. Here, McGough was assigned the mighty task of minimizing Voss’ output. Though Voss was polaxed in the first quarter, McGough did an admiral job until he was on the wrong end of an even worse collision which resulted in a broken leg. Thereafter Voss eluded the Pies accruing 29 possessions, however McGough’s legacy was his courage going in where angels fear to tread.

 
Moment before impact; McGough’s bravery cost him a broken leg but won him the respect of teammates

Betheras’ goal 19 minutes into the third quarter from a defensive mistake 40 metres out nearly lifted the roof off the Dome, and more importantly, steeled the team’s resolve to achieve mission possible.

And in the dying minutes, Wakelin twice showed great poise under pressure to deny Brisbane. First a desperate shot by McRae failed to clear Wakelin in the square before a speculative hospital kick by Power was supremely judged by Wakelin.

“It felt like it was in the air for about half an hour. I pretty well knew there was nobody behind me, but I wasn’t sure if anyone was in the forward pocket off to the left hand side.”

The last passage of play was desperate, and could have seen the game go either way. Jason Cloke marked and kicked long to Fraser on centre wing, yet the game wasn’t safe when his kick resulted in a loose ball. Lynch handballed long over his head, somehow finding Headland streaming forward through the centre square. His wobbly kick could have ended up with anyone, but fortunately that anyone was Cloke.

AFTERMATCH:

 
Agony and ecstacy; side by side

Coach Mick Malthouse’s reaction to the siren was instructive – an internal explosion of relief and delight just reaching the surface for a split second before being capped, his assistants holding onto him lest he collapse! Leigh Matthews’ stony lack of emotion was nothing but typical.

Rocca and Tarrant combined to form an irresistible force, sharing 20 marks and 8 goals. Such was Rocca’s impact, his opponent Leppitsch was dispatched to the forward line. And in Tarrant’s case, his five goals and domination of Bolton caused just as many headaches for the Lions hierarchy. With Collingwood playing four tall forwards for much of the game, Brisbane’s defence was stretched to its limit.

Though Collingwood had more of the ball, Brisbane was more direct with 13 more forward 50 entries. Brisbane had to work harder than it could remember, forwards, backmen and its famous midfield all under pressure from a well balanced team intent on making a statement. Another noteworthy statistic was that the Lions had 46 hitouts to 27, yet lost the clearances 48 to 30. This was typical of the 2002 Magpies whose midfielders’ necessarily developed an uncanny ability to read the oppositions’ dominant ruckmen.

Finally, an endearing memory for those who remained to sing the song (over and over) was Mark McGough on crutches hobbling out to greet his teammates as they left the arena. It was Boys’ Own Annual stuff, with McGough moved to tears by his teammate’s performance – which he had to a large degree inspired.

THE HERO:
Jason Cloke (Collingwood)
First year player Jason Cloke showed maturity beyond his years in taking out the Lions’ star forward Jonathon Brown. Indeed, for the whole season Cloke a plank on which the Magpies based their miserly defence. Cloke’s 7 kicks, 2 handballs and 6 marks may not read impressively, but he kept Brown to just 7 kicks, 3 marks and just one goal. There was little finesse but a whole lot of heart, and a knack for being in the right place at the right time. This was certainly the case when he twice averted potential heartbreak in the dying moments.

POSTSCRIPT:
The euphoria of the ground breaking win over Brisbane was short lived. Facing another huge test against Port Adelaide at Football Park, Collingwood put up a brave effort only to finish five points in arrears. With Fraser, Wakelin and Nick Davis injured, the young Magpies earn further kudos as a genuine finals prospect.

WHAT THEY SAID:
“Everything’s important from here. Anything from here on in that is a bad mistake is absolutely magnified enormously, but its only selected from the one that was made in the first minute of the game.”
An introspective Malcolm Blight on the curious nature of pressure, and making mistakes at the wrong end of the game.

“It’s a great victory, it’s a home and away game though and we hope we have bigger fish to fry.”
Nathan Buckley already looking ahead moments after the game.

“What it meant to beat them was that we are not a competition as far apart as before the night started. I don’t know if we’ve closed the gap…but it’s terrific for the competition and terrific for us.”
Mick Malthouse plays down a ground breaking win for the other 14 clubs.

“It was bizarre that some of the things we tried to do didn’t come off. I don’t think we played smart…Throughout the whole game we didn’t deserve to win but at the end we should have won.”
Bewildered Brisbane skipper, Michael Voss.

“When you’re 20 points behind in a hostile environment and you find the pluck to sort of dominate the game for the last 10 minutes…our guys were proud men.”
Matthews was enthused by his Lions’ pride.

Conflicted

A football love-hate story

As published by The Footy Almanac, 8 May 2012

It’s happening and I swear I had nothing little to do with it.

A couple months ago my wife dragged took my five year old boy to church. To her incredulity, out of nowhere he started singing Good old Collingwood for da ever (sic).

Right hymn / wrong place perhaps, but I couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of pride in my son’s first important life choice.

Whilst Luke is way sharper than me at the same age, my teenage brothers’ indoctrination had me knowing every Magpie and their number from 1-60. I’d listen to The Captain and The Major at our 1970’s orange kitchen bench whilst tracking the game on my DIY Lego scoreboard. At half time I’d draw pictures of Billy Picken leaping over ten men for mark of the year. After World of Sport I’d be at the local oval copping the occasional welt from my brother’s well directed stab pass. Hilarious! My revenge would be refusing to leave until I’d emulated Billy’s marking heroics.

So far I’ve taken a comparatively passive approach to Luke, I promise. You see they learn stuff like footy songs at kinder these days, so no need to call Child Services.

Since the church singing incident his interest has intensified. An act of kindness by his football-atheist aunty entailing footy cards has sparked a new obsession to rival Ben 10, and a raft of personal childhood memories as he learns all the teams, colours and mascots. At his request the Collingwood jumper (I admittedly bought for last year’s birthday) is now on much higher rotation.

I wish this was a nature or nurture discussion, but my angst goes to his burgeoning love of football coinciding with mine reaching a crossroads. At <40 I don’t mean to be bashing down the door of the Grumpy Old Men’s Club, but like the inequitable, manipulated fixture, I’m at a tipping point.

The eponymous AFL, which somewhere along the line consumed the code, has never won much kudos. Not unlike the public transport operators – widespread dissatisfaction aside, they kind of get a tough job done. Under Demetriou’s watch though I reckon the AFL express has left a critical mass at the station.

Is these ‘rusted-ons’ support that unshakeable? Their needs and sense of footy justice would appear irrelevant to the big picture focus on maximising the value of TV eyeballs and courting the unconverted. As Monash University’s Dr David Nadel speculated, for all the bells and whistles, has the game lost its soul?

The obsession with growth and profit now has us drowning in ‘content’, arguably at the expense of quality. Of course there’s no going back, the AFL are committed to a billion dollar contract that facilitates a huge ongoing financial burden to support a new club in a notoriously difficult market, and another in an unreceptive, speculative one. All for a possible payoff a generation or two away.

Meanwhile, for some historically vital clubs whose loyal supporters have endured more five year plans than Mao’s China, long overdue flags and certain futures are still pipe dreams.

The ubiquitous nature of today’s inflated competition has been further exacerbated by social media, footy tipping, Fox Footy, gambling promotions, dream team competitions, WAGS, scandals and gossip all filling every last crevice of footy-free space. It’s relentless – if there was an off-season last summer I missed it. If mainstream media and the proliferation of boofhead panel shows isn’t enough, AFL Media has entered the fray with 40 journos delivering a superfluous (perhaps one day lucrative) ministry of truth.

Sure, adding my warblings to the white noise renders me somewhat hypocritical. Alas, the writing bug is as hard to shake as the footy bug.

But I’ve got to the stage where I’m reducing my footy intake. Last year I shut down a tipping comp I ran since I was twelve. Haven’t missed it one iota. Nor do I watch much on the box anymore, granted Seven’s underwhelming coverage is a factor.

Whilst I cannot dispute modern players’ incredible skill, in my opinion the enormous resources invested in strategy and fitness have rendered the game no more aesthetically enjoyable than 20 years ago. Any sufficient pause in play is a cue for 36 players to position themselves within 80 metres of the pill.

What hasn’t helped is rule change upon rule change in the attempt to correct previous corrections, and hastily inserted interchange rules lacking in medical justification. Adrian Anderson and the rules committee appear to treat the game as if it were a five speed bike. Does any other sport tinker so? Walking the dogs down the road and watching West Preston never had more appeal. There’s a lot to be said for decent standard local footy right now as a more accessible and comprehensible form of the game.

And from the long suffering umpires let me move onto the tribunal system which employs a convoluted points system administered by a panel struggling to impart common sense or consistency. Deliberately punch someone and you may get a week, or nothing. Make the wrong split second decision in the course of play and you might be cooling your heels for weeks. In 2010 they bumped the bump, last year it was the tackle, and this season being first to the ball is called into question. The #FreeLindsay campaign was far more compelling than #FreeKony in my book.

My other peccadilloes include Grand Final ticketing, arbitrary salary cap bypasses and the AFL’s sense of ‘integrity’ which has an organisation obsessed with image and social engineering on one hand, yet so willing to open the floodgates on gambling that ruins lives and has plunged other sports into disrepute.

My own mob is not beyond reproach. There must be ten million worthier targets for Federal funding than a wealthy AFL club. But I suppose for Magpie man Bill Shorten, whatever his mate Ed said about community recreation hubs must be right. And despite the club’s impressive efforts to make their 70,000 strong army feel important, I know I’m just another number. From my experience a vacuous tweet is more likely to glean a response than a considered email or letter of some import.

I envy Luke’s wide eyed innocence. He’s not ready for me to spill the beans on the Easter bunny or Santa, nor is he ready for my jaded views on footy. I can’t help wonder what kind of game he may or may not be playing and watching in ten years though, and how I’ll manage to keep the faith for his sake.

There’s certainly innumerate worse things in the world the boy could be doing with his time. I can only hope Luke experiences the same exhilaration and inner peace I (still) enjoy after a win as we sing Good old Collingwood forever, together.