Keeping a lid on it, or, not keeping a lid on it
Yeah alright, Cats won the NAB Cup, yadda yadda yadda, let’s move the fuck on already. Or at least wait till this here rant is over.
If the headline reading “We Are the Champions”, on the cover of the Geelong Advertiser on Monday, wasn’t enough to make you vomit in your Nutri-Grain, you should have seen the exaggerated pats on the back displayed at the club’s family day the day before. When Scarlett held the NAB silverware up before more than 10,000 over zealous Cats fans on Sunday, the reaction was nothing short of, well, pathetic.
How could you know this without being there, I hear you ask. Well, research, people…alright!? I went for research…and cause Half Cat was gonna be there (he owes me five bucks). But anyway…
I’ll admit it, after a few Cascade Pales on Saturday night, I got a little excited with my drunken posse; I high fived, I screamed, hell, later that evening some may have witness me breastfeeding a blue and white beanie in celebration, but the truth hit me like a Sherrin to the nuts first thing Sunday morning. Somewhere deep inside, beneath the ash tray mouth, and to the left of my squealing liver, I knew that in the grand scheme of things the victory was nothing more than a practice match won interstate. Sure it was close, sure it felt good to watch Brett Fucking Burton go down in a screaming pile of cat shit, and I won’t deny that it actually felt good to win a much hyped game, but ultimately, Cats fans, was it enough? Hell no!
It’s amazing how a few days can clear the mind, and allow for some perspective. I say sure, let’s savour that great, yet unfamiliar, feeling we all had the end of Saturday night’s game, but let’s now put it to one side, and as quickly as possible, cause there are 22 more important games to be played this year. I may not know how it feels for my team to win a real Grand Final, but something tells me that had Saturday night meant anything at all, there would have been looting in this town, and I’d still be celebrating today. As it stands, Sunday’s rather tame hangover lasted longer than any real feeling of relief that we might have broken some sort of 43 year hoodoo.
Keep a lid on it G-towners, we’re not even close yet. The monkey hasn’t gone anywhere.
Out.
Next blog: My most hated football personalities. Robert Walls, I’m looking in your direction…tosser.
Yeah alright, Cats won the NAB Cup, yadda yadda yadda, let’s move the fuck on already. Or at least wait till this here rant is over.
If the headline reading “We Are the Champions”, on the cover of the Geelong Advertiser on Monday, wasn’t enough to make you vomit in your Nutri-Grain, you should have seen the exaggerated pats on the back displayed at the club’s family day the day before. When Scarlett held the NAB silverware up before more than 10,000 over zealous Cats fans on Sunday, the reaction was nothing short of, well, pathetic.
How could you know this without being there, I hear you ask. Well, research, people…alright!? I went for research…and cause Half Cat was gonna be there (he owes me five bucks). But anyway…
I’ll admit it, after a few Cascade Pales on Saturday night, I got a little excited with my drunken posse; I high fived, I screamed, hell, later that evening some may have witness me breastfeeding a blue and white beanie in celebration, but the truth hit me like a Sherrin to the nuts first thing Sunday morning. Somewhere deep inside, beneath the ash tray mouth, and to the left of my squealing liver, I knew that in the grand scheme of things the victory was nothing more than a practice match won interstate. Sure it was close, sure it felt good to watch Brett Fucking Burton go down in a screaming pile of cat shit, and I won’t deny that it actually felt good to win a much hyped game, but ultimately, Cats fans, was it enough? Hell no!
It’s amazing how a few days can clear the mind, and allow for some perspective. I say sure, let’s savour that great, yet unfamiliar, feeling we all had the end of Saturday night’s game, but let’s now put it to one side, and as quickly as possible, cause there are 22 more important games to be played this year. I may not know how it feels for my team to win a real Grand Final, but something tells me that had Saturday night meant anything at all, there would have been looting in this town, and I’d still be celebrating today. As it stands, Sunday’s rather tame hangover lasted longer than any real feeling of relief that we might have broken some sort of 43 year hoodoo.
Keep a lid on it G-towners, we’re not even close yet. The monkey hasn’t gone anywhere.
Out.
Next blog: My most hated football personalities. Robert Walls, I’m looking in your direction…tosser.
posted by mrs. watson at 9:56 pm
4 Comments:
I beleive the Blue & White baby beanie was also seen smoking at the Nash. And there may actually be a photo of the proud father and his breast fed, granny knitted, smoking beanie...
Keep a lid on it but at least use one of those retractable types so you can crack it open every so often and screw back on.
Carn the cats!
>Next blog: My most hated football
>personalities.
Don't forget Phil "Wannabe Wallsy" Cleary.
My consulting job is that much of a joke that I got bored today and decided to read through four and a half year old blogs.
Do we think that anyone in Geelong would go to a family day now if the Cats won a pre-season cup?
-Tee from Vancouver
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