A Tight Ass’s Betting Guide to Season 2006, or, Get on Bruce!



I’m not a betting man. No, hang on, let me rephrase that: I don’t bet…much. In fact, my history as a punter is a little pathetic when compared to the gambling expertise exhibited by some of my good friends. The way that some of these friends know the ins and outs of the gambling way of life is often times cause for a good mate like me to worry, but since none of them have ever asked for a large cash loan, or stolen my DVD player for a quick profit at Cash Converters, I leave them be. I, on the other hand, up until a few weeks ago, couldn’t even tell you where to find the TAB in my neighbourhood – surely Mum would be proud – and I generally feel like a fuckin’ idiot in front of those touch screens inside. There’s usually a long line of bad smelling, cranky gamblers snaked behind me, waiting for me, ‘the rookie’, to find the part of the Sportsbet program where I can put $3.50 on Josh Hunt to kick the first goal against Essendon because he’s paying $33 odds. I once dared to ask some of the more experienced gamblers in line for change of a fiver. Needless to say, the coinage was not provided - the machine only takes notes! Note to self: If planning to make piss-weak bets, carry plenty of small notes, cause the touch screen does not give change.

I have had my victories though. I once won $75 on a Crows v Kangaroos Grand Final when I tipped the exact winning margin. The victory spurred me on to support the Crows (as a back-up club) for many years to come, and generally raised my profile as a punter amongst my circle of friends (at least for a few weeks). A few years later, in a moment of drunken clarity, a friend and I placed $20 on Carlton to beat Melbourne at Optus Oval by more than 34 points, and as luck would have it, this ridiculous bet scored us close to $90 dollars each. My crowning glory as a pro gambler came this year however, when one Friday afternoon, on my way to happy hour, I found $10 outside St Mary’s church here in Geelong. Being 4:25pm, I had a little time to spare before the cheap drinks began, so I sort out the local gambling house to try my luck with my new wealth. Geelong and St. Kilda were playing that night, and being there no money to be had on the Saints, I placed the whole 10 on the Cats to win by between 17 and 36 points at $8.60. It was my lucky day; the Cats won by 3 goals.

However, some of my more stupid bets have led me to believe that these 3 victories were just, well, lucky. Believe it or not though, I have learned a few things from my experiments with gambling, things which I feel confident enough to share with you. Number one, Victorians should not gamble in NSW. I don’t know if anyone has tried to place a bet on one of those stone-age machines up there, but having used the top of the line touch screens here in Victoria, it’s damn near impossible to navigate your way around their 1983 model devices. I almost wasted a whole 4 day stay in Sydney on trying to work this Atari-esque contraption out. Don’t waste your time. Number 2, unless you’re extremely wealthy, and can afford to bet large sums of dosh, there’s very little money to be had on backing favourites, when it comes to AFL betting; it’s a two horse race. Sure, Adelaide will beat Essendon on most occasions, everyone knows that, but why waste $5 backing them at $1.25 odds? The real money is in making slightly risky, sometimes absolutely ridiculous wagers. This is, after all, the catch 22 involved in all types of gambling, but this is also why AFL is the perfect game for tight-ass punters like myself.

“So where’s the money this year?” I hear you ask. Well, after browsing through Monday’s Herald-Sun and coming across some rather interesting odds from the TAB, I have a few risky recommendations to make to my feel cheap skates. First up, let’s talk about Flag Odds.

It’s no surprise that the TAB has Adelaide ($3.50) and West Coast ($4.75) as favourites, because let’s face it, most of us have already picked one of these two teams to take the Premiership anyway, but unless you have a couple of hundred dollars to splurge on either team, it’s not worth your tight-ass $10 bet. For the stingy punters like me, you wanna put your money on a team with an outside chance. While I’d rather tuck into a plate of cat faeces than suggest Sydney have a chance to win, they’re looking very tempting at $7.50, as do Geelong (for the faithful) at $14. Surprisingly, after an atrocious first half of the year, the TAB have placed Geelong as stronger favourites to take the Cup than Fremantle ($126), Port Adelaide ($26) and the Bulldogs ($21) who all currently sit above the Cats on the ladder – the Bulldogs being in the top four.

For the mega tight-ass bet, or just for a laugh, put a buck on Carlton or Essendon at….get this…$2001. I mean really, why give them a chance at all? That’s like giving odds on Terry Wallace to abstain from giving a press conference for 24 hours. Even at $2001, I don’t Terry could resist a day without media exposure. Onya Terry, you wanker.

Ok, let’s look at Brownlow Odds. Chris Judd is favourite right now and is paying $5 to win, but I don’t think he’ll come close. Simon Goodwin is a good chance at $5.50, but might I suggest some slightly riskier alternatives for all us tight arses. I reckon the best players to pick are those on winning teams. Sure, Jonathan Brown is having a superb year, but with the Lion’s current record, he won’t be scoring many 3 pointers from the umps. He’s paying $10 but don’t waste your money. The best risk in Brownlow betting, I reckon, is Brad Johnson at $26. This guy has been on fire. If only he’d stop smiling though, he might be taken more seriously by the TAB. I mean seriously, can anyone be THAT happy all the time. I personally, don’t think Ablett Jnr can win it, but for Geelong fanatics, he’s paying $18 right now. A better chance is Barry Hall at $17, I think.



Just to let you know, I’ll be putting my dough on Cam Bruce this weekend at $17. If Melbourne has a strong run home, this guy has a terrific chance, and his odds will only strengthen as the season progresses. Bruce is a great player. Just ask the Captain, who poached the Demon from my Dream Team earlier this year. I’m still hurting, you bastard!

Out.

The tale of Sir Gary (Based on a true story), or, Don't Fuck with Gary!



Late one night, while passing Rex Gorrell’s coach yard, Sir Gary thought it a grand idea to adjourn his journey for a few moments and view the marvellous new vehicles from a more discerning vantage point. “’Tis been a long stroll this evening already,” he said to himself, “I could most certainly use a rest before embarking on the second leg of this most strenuous journey.” Now, one would be forgiven for thinking such a late night adventure quite strange, especially for a man whom earlier that very same day was allowed leave from the small town’s medical hospice. You see, while Sir Gary was trimming the lawns of his estate’s grounds a week earlier, he’d sustained terrible injuries to his foot, and was recommended a lengthy recovery. On this particular evening however, Sir Gary felt spritely, almost himself, and also felt a shiny new coach to be an appropriate reward for such a swift revival.

But Geelong Towne was not the place to be dallying at such a late hour. In fact, it was not uncommon for this town, while law abiding and safe by day, to twist itself into a hellish frenzy by night – the perfect setting for all varieties of questionable characters to lurk and prowl. Thieves, drunkards, homeless men, and hooded teens on bmx bicycles, patrolled this town’s streets after dark, and not even Sir Gary – Geelong Towne’s most sacred goal scoring knight - was safe.

For you see, Sir Gary was not alone in the coach yard. Skulking in the shadows, the vicious Baron Von West Fyans was patiently waiting for an unsuspecting, and innocent character to cross his path. It was currency he needed, and robbery was looming. “It is strange to see another man, in this here neck of these here woods, at such a late hour. What might your business be, Sir?” The Baron’s deep, raspy tone reached inside Sir Gary, chilling him to his very core, and freezing him on the very spot he stood.

Turning, Sir Gary answered bravely, careful not to hint at his nervousness. “I’m in a coach yard, my friend, so I believe it safe to presume I’m in need of a coach; and your business?”

“My business is to rob you. Empty your pockets at once, or I shall be left with no alternative but to empty them on your behalf.” The Baron drew closer, but as he did, his victim’s identity revealed itself.

“Do you not know who I am?” Sir Gary asked in a slightly haughty manner. “I’m Sir Gary, this town’s holy saviour, holder of the Norm Smith medallion, sent from God himself to bestow footballing glory on the people of Geelong Towne. You must certainly have balls the size of boulders to approach me in such a way. If this be the case, then let us duel. If not, then continue on your way, sir. This is my town, swine!”

“Haha!” the Baron quipped. “Your past glories are not enough to alarm me, Sir Crusty Jock. In fact, I believe you are more recently renowned for your narcotic related stupidities, and for your daughter, Lady Natasha, and her troubles with the law. No doubt you recognise me also. I have enjoyed her close company on many occasions, and if you don’t mind me saying so, she is a royal shag of the highest order. You do not frighten me, old man. A duel with you can surely be likened to a walk in the park.”

“You dare insult my family!?” Gary replied angrily; for although the great man had been quite bothered by his daughter’s infamous adventures, she was, after all, his only daughter, and he knew that in many ways Lady Natasha was the way she was because of his own dishonourable deeds.

The Baron took Sir Gary by the scruff, forcing him to the ground. “My foot! My fucking foot!” Sir Gary exclaimed. His injured foot had twisted in the scuffle, rendering our hero disabled.

“Perhaps a few lashings will heal your aching feet,” the Baron suggested, while removing the belt from his torn and unwashed denim pants. With it’s large rusty buckle facing outwards, The Baron whipped at Sir Gary’s head again and again, only ceasing to enquire, “Will you now empty your pockets!?” The villain chuckled as Sir Gary fumbled through his pockets for several minutes, only to reveal a few five cent pieces, and one extremely old and unfashionably oversized Nokia mobile telephone. “Is this all you have!? It seems you are worse off than I, you pathetic has-been.”

With this, Sir Gary fled for the street. Bloody and bruised, he waved down a sympathetic citizen. “Please, inform the police, O kind citizen of Geelong Towne. I have been robbed and beaten.” Expecting his attacker to be in hasty pursuit, Sir Gary turned, and was relieved to observe that the Baron had vanished, gone to the night from which he was violently spawned. The law would find him later that evening, huddled beneath a parked freight coach, whose driver was found enjoying wooden oven gourmet inside Ye Kardinia Café.

The Baron’s trial was short. “In this town,” the judge declared, “you do not touch Sir Gary!” The court’s gallery applauded as though a grand final had been won. “Ye shall be punished accordingly. I sentence you to a lifetime’s employment at Smorgy’s Restaurant, where ye shall clean the filthy troughs from which the scum of this town eat; where you will wait on said scum with a smile, and attend to Sammy the Seal’s repairs as required. This is indeed a fitting punishment for a man, so callous, as to assault the honourable Sir Gary in the town for which he provided so much joy. I speak on behalf of not only this country’s laws and standards, but on behalf on all G-Towners: may you rot at the end on Cunningham Pier!”

Geelong Towne rejoiced at having Sir Gary's honour bestowed once again. Sir Gary, himself, celebrated for 7 days in a Mecure Hotel suite with an underage hooker and a Cats training bag full of narcotics. "It's back to rehab," he thought to himself on the sixth night, "and then I'll join the church again."

Out.

Mid-Season report, or, a man is not a pot.

Is it just me, or is the AFL’s split round superbly timed? With the World Cup and the way the Aussies are performing getting major press coverage, you may as well have some down time now, right? If all goes according to current rankings, as the AFL goes back into full swing next weekend, the Socceroos will have been eliminated. And football, not soccer, will reclaim its place as the most talked about game in town, at which point Andrew Demetriou will rub his hands together, laugh and cancel the contract he had taken out on Harry Kewell.

Actually, now that I think about it, Demetriou probably had something to do with Mark Schwarzer being replaced in goal by what looked to be a cross between Jarvis Cocker and Mr. Bean, only more un-coordinated. Jesus Christ, if that clown of a goal keeper had ended up costing us a place in the 2nd round I was ready to go South American on his ass, Columbian neck-tie and all. And the worst thing was he was obviously shit; as we were watching I said something like, ‘this goalie is a fucking liability’, and sure enough, about 5 minutes later a half-assed shot is dribbled passed him and into the back of the net. “Maybe it took a deflection” came from one of my mates; “yeah, a deflection off THE MIDDLE OF HIS FUCKING HANDS!” came the reply as I was trying to find out where his kids went to school. Just a colossal fuck up even playing him at all, I mean, even Alistair Clarkson knew to keep Zac Dawson away from Jonathon Brown, but I digress…

The mid-season break! A chance to reflect, reassess, and remind you of all the things we’ve gotten right, while conveniently forgetting the things we’ve gotten completely wrong. I’ll be doing this (at the suggestion of Mrs. Watson) with the help of a 2500 year old Chinese genius, Confucius!

“The Three Armies can be deprived of their commanding officer, but even a common man cannot be deprived of his purpose.”
For the three powerhouse teams; Adelaide, West Coast, and Sydney. Each has had problems with their captains; West Coast sacking Cousins, Riccuito missing games through injury for Adelaide and Sydney not being sure of who actually is captain, yet they have continued to prosper through the efforts of their lesser lights. Look for the premiership to come from one of these three.

“Men's natures are alike; it is their habits that carry them far apart.”
To Collingwood who continue to surprise, despite having largely the same list as last season when they finished 15th. It is a compliment to their hard work, dedication and self belief they have improved so dramatically. Well, either that or they tanked last year to secure a high draft pick.

“Forget injuries, never forget kindnesses.”
To Justin Koshitske and his hero, David Scwartz.

“A country of a thousand war-chariots cannot be administered unless the ruler attends strictly to business, punctually observes his promises, is economical in expenditure, loves the people, and uses the labor of the peasantry only at the proper times of year.”
Mutually dedicated to Chris Connelly and Grant Thomas, two coaches who inherited excellent young lists, who had the complete backing of the administration and a healthy club both financially and membership wise and yet still dramatically under-performed. Plus, they both used peasantry at the wrong time of the year. Both must be fired.

“First and foremost, be faithful to your superiors, keep all promises, refuse the friendship of all who are not like you; and if you have made a mistake, do not be afraid of admitting the fact and amending your ways.”
Confucius also said; never call your coach a fuckwit on your own website. Aker to Sydney in ’07.

“The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trials.”
To John Worsfold and Neil Craig: The West Coast Eagles have had about as much off-field drama as any club has in the past, not counting the Duck pegging Anthony Stevens’ wife in the bathroom. No doubt Woosha’s hard-ass approach has helped keep them together as a team with legitimate premiership claims. Adelaide hired the relatively unknown Craig after the disastrous and underachieving Gary Ayres years and in the face of many doubters has turned the club into the best in the land. He is everything Grant Thomas is not.

“To see what is right, and not to do it, is want of courage or of principle.”
Dedicated to Aaron Fiora and his St.Kilda team-mates: Soft as shite.

“Fine words and an insinuating appearance are seldom associated with true virtue. The firm, the enduring, the simple, and the modest are near to virtue.”
To Terry Wallace, who won’t stop assaulting our TV screens and radio speakers with his self-serving views on the game with no thought given to anything but raising his own profile so Essendon will eventually over pay him for season 2009.

“Do not worry about not holding high position; worry rather about playing your proper role.”
To Warren Tredrea, who apparently demanded the captaincy from Matthew Primus before the big man was forced to retire, then stole his jersey number and played so poorly at full-forward that most people thought it was Primus. Warrr-ren, Warrr-ren.

“It is better to play than do nothing.”
To Essendon, Carlton, the Kangaroos and Hawthorn; at this point they are all looking towards the draft again and just hoping that no-one pulls a Koschitske on them. (By the way I think that’s the third way I’ve spelt his name already). But there is value in playing and gaining experience and even winning a few in a ‘dead’ season.

“To lead an uninstructed people to war is to throw them away.”
To Alistair Clarkson; there is a fine line between giving a teenage valuable experience and completely shattering his confidence, just ask Zac Dawson. Why did they re-appoint him, again?

“Be not ashamed of mistakes and thus make them crimes.”
To Bomber Thompson and the GFC: The players may have been ahead of themselves, the training staff may not have been up to par or the competition may have been underestimated. Either way, keep Cam Mooney at centre half-forward, keep competing and give yourself a chance to play finals.

“Behave when away from home as though you were in the presence of an honored guest.”
To Geelong, and other Victorian teams who don’t travel so well. The Cats must have thought the King of fucking India was in Fremantle the other week.

“The faults of a superior person are like the sun and moon. They have their faults, and everyone sees them; they change and everyone looks up to them.”
Or,
“When anger rises, think of the consequences.”
Two here for Cameron Mooney, who has curbed his formerly wild ways and frequent trips to the tribunal and become the heart and soul of the Cats; all while playing the hardest position in the game. Robert Walls went as far as to say he should be captain. We’re just glad he’s on the park every week.

“The superior man is modest in his speech, but exceeds in his actions.”
Matthew Scarlett. Seemed appropriate to keep it short.

“When you have faults, do not fear to abandon them.”
To the Geelong midfield whose insistence on chipping the ball around resulted in a 5 game losing streak, and whose transformation into a direct, long kicking unit has gotten them back on track.

“Everything has its beauty but not everyone sees it.”
The poor bloke cops it from everywhere, and we here at Big League Little League are no innocents ourselves. We do appreciate his competitiveness, however, and one of us thinks he should be the next captain of Geelong (coming soon). Lady-killer, this one’s for you.

“Things that are done, it is needless to speak about; things that are past, it is needless to blame.”
To the Geelong fans who, not unlike in Ghostbusters 2, feed a river of negative energy that flows onto the field. As Mrs. Watson said a few weeks back: “Stop threatening to throw away your membership. Stop booing the team off K-park. Stop feeding the Geelong Fucking Advertiser with your half-assed miracle solution to the team’s forward line problems, and start showing up at games again. Keep the fuckin’ faith, you idiots.”

Speaking of faith, I reckon we’re a chance this week at Footy Park (what a typically idiotically named South Australian stadium) and I reckon the great man from 550 B.C. China thinks so too; “Never give a sword to a man who can't dance.” Word, Confucius, word.

Walnut surprise, or, the importance of breakfast



Captain: Just over halfway through the season and Geelong have the same record as Hawthorn; not exactly awe inspiring stuff, but on the positive side, at least we’ve gotten our annual 5 game losing streak out of the way. And I like this team having to play the rest of the season with a ‘backs to the wall’ attitude. Without giving away too much of our mid-season review (which we’ll be doing next week) where do you think this season is headed?

Mrs Watson: I predict no surprises. One of the interstate teams will win it: Adelaide (most likely), or Sydney or WC. As far as Geelong goes, I hope they make the finals, but it’s unlikely they will. I’m still confident we have a great side, though, so a few miraculous victories might see us squeeze in. But who will make room for us? Richmond, probably. Freo are on their way down. Maybe Port?

Captain: I don’t think I could be surprised by anything the AFL throws at me anymore; it’s been that kind of season. Dean Laidley’s killing his members, Dean Brogan’s trying to kill supporters, Blake Caracella was almost killed, and Leigh Matthews is no doubt finalising the contract on Aker’s head; and you’d think death would be sweet relief for Justin Koschitske at this point. Did you see him pass out on TV? The most disturbing part of that clip was that David Schwarz is still gainfully employed in the media.

Mrs Watson: Don’t start me on Schwarz!! Absolute goose, that man. As for Koschitske, after seeing that footage, it looks to me as though there maybe something a little more serious involved than simply, “he forgot his breakfast.” Shit, I’d pass out three times a week if missing breakfast caused black outs like that. Man, I saw that live and he reminded me of one the Word Trade towers collapsing. If only Schwarz was around on September 11th to awkwardly prop a few buildings up, the New York skyline would remain unchanged today. Take that terrorists, Schwarta’s had his breakfast this morning! Fuckin’ mama’s boy.

Captain: And his rambling, nonsensical reply, right before he went down, was impossible to distinguish from his regular answers. Must see TV. On to the coaches; seriously, how have Chris Connelly and Walnut Thomas still got jobs? Peter Everitt called Thomas a mini-bus – half a coach. I don’t reckon I’d hire him to manage a Sizzler.

Mrs Watson: The problem with Thomas though, is that he runs the whole show down at St Kilda. He’s arranged it so that only he can sack himself. It’s genius really; almost super-villain-esque. Hmmmm…I wonder, did Krang like walnuts? Anyway, as for Chris Connelly, the man should never have been hired. Did he even play football? He sure doesn’t look like he’d make much of a footballer – possibly a women’s t-ball coach, but certainly not a sportsman. I’m starting to think he isn’t Fremantle’s problem though. I just think they kinda stink.

Captain: According to Garry Lyon, Chris Connelly was in line to be Melbourne’s next captain before knee injuries cut his career short; probably the best thing that ever happened to Melbourne. You’re right though, he was a poor choice from the get go; after Damien Drum and Connelly, Gerard Neesham must look like Ron Freakin’ Barassi to Docker fans. Speaking of ending careers, the AFL is in a bit of transitional stage at the moment with a lot good players retiring, or being pretty close to it. It will be interesting to see which players step up to fill that superstar void. Lance Franklin would be my bet. And Ryan Griffen from the Bulldogs; how good is he? (That’s rhetorical, by the way.)



Mrs Watson: I predict the next true AFL superstar will be Mark Blake. He’s got talent written all over him. Seriously. But yeah, Franklin looks alright. He could be a hoax though, like Riewoldt.

Captain: Aaah, Saint Nick. I will never get over Dwayne Russell referring to him as ‘the angelic Riewoldt’. Poof. Yes, the Blake experiment is coming along nicely, considering it always takes big guys longer to develop. It would be handy if they taught him to kick, however. A future captain, perhaps? Any thoughts on who should follow Steven King?

Mrs Watson: Gee, we’re really covering all bases here. I could write a whole blog on this topic (in fact, I think I will), but I think the job should go to Ling.

Captain: Captain Junkstats! We are drifting just a little, aren’t we? We can cover some of these topics next week anyway. In regards to the games, from memory Daz tipped the Roos over the Blues and the Swans over the Pies; two safe picks. Final thoughts Mrs. Watson?

Mrs. Watson: When chased by cannonball, hide by river. Out.

'Egan' is not a dirty word, or, why Captain Feathersword?



You only have to stand in KP’s outer for five minutes to hear players being labelled all sorts of random, and seemingly senseless aliases. Hell, even our coach is now publicly referred to as ‘Lips’ (copyright Big League Little League), a nickname which has surpassed his previous nickname of ‘Bomber’, and gone to a whole new level of hilarity. But where do nicknames come from? And I’m not talking about those completely uncreative nicknames which are constructed simply by adding a vowel to the end of any surname. You know the ones: Ling=Linga, Ottens=Otto, Mrs Watson=Mrs. Watto (you get the drift). I’m talking about those slightly cleverer, sometimes strange and ridiculous nicknames which are brought out only after a little (or a lot of) thought (grog), and are often only recognised by those that are in on the joke.

In an effort to bring together some of my favourite nicknames for current Cats players, I've assembled a list. Now, how my friends and I came to nickname Essendon’s Scott Lucas, "Captain Feather-Sword", I can’t exactly remember, but rest assured it came to us in a moment of drunken brilliance; likewise, Brett Burton's new tag of 'Budgy', and many of the names on the list below. I can't take credit for most of them. Many were overheard, adjusted sligthly for comic effect, or just outright stolen, but were included in the hope that they will be used, circulated, and will eventually become relatively familiar amongst Cats' fans throughout the country. So, without further ado, the...

2006 (not so) Definitive Guide to GFC Player Nicknames

1. Jimmy ‘Tickets’ Bartel: Put simply, the guy has got HUGE tickets on himself, and no wonder: every time this pretty boy gets a touch, the ground’s female contingent either scream, faint, or throw their nanna undies onto the field. There’s a girl in a Bartel jumper who stands near my pack in the outer, at KP, who has obviously succumbed to the lure of ‘Tickets’’ man charm. Seriously, if Jimmy happens to find his way into our pocket of the ground during a game this girl loses fuckin’ control. She reminds me of those Beatles’ groupies who used to fork out three months pocket money to go to a concert, only to shriek like a fool the entire time. Get a grip, woman! No wonder ‘Tickets’ hides a vanity mirror in his football sock. Also known as: James, HiFi

2. Josh 'Smelly' Hunt: Watch the men in the crowd snigger in approval when you bust this old chestnut out. They might not get it at first, but just wait a few…sec…onds…and yes, you’ll be showered with praise in recognition of your wit, and also your guts in lowering the standard of humour to a whole new level of smut. Let me warn you though, if you do decide to give the ‘Smelly’ call a bit of a run, you can forget picking up that cute girl in the Geelong scarf in front of you. However, for a somewhat less offensive alternative, substitute ‘Smelly’ with ‘Mike’, and try your luck. Also know as: Laser



3. Shannon ‘Monty’ Burns: Sure, not an overly clever nickname but one which will earn you praise nevertheless, and it’s better than the generic ‘Burnsy’. Shannon actually bares a striking resemblance to the Simpson character’s younger self (pictured with Bobo), which makes the nickname just that little bit more legit. Also know as: a consistent kicker of points

4. Darren ‘Stillborn’ Milburn: Possibly the most offensive of all nicknames, ‘Stillborn’ is heard time and time again in the outer, and is usually followed by the loud sound of a group inhaling in disgust. I, for one, only bring this one out when I’m too far gone to worry about what those around me think. When sober, it’s neither clever nor funny (after all, it’s just a rhyming nickname), but for some reason when your shit faced, it becomes the smartest, wittiest thing you’ve EVER said. Use with caution, or use ‘Dasher’ instead.

5. Joel Corey ‘Haim’ & Corey ‘Feldman’ Enright: Not since ‘The Lost Boys’ have the Corey’s worked together so successfully. Ordinary on their own (see movies: Anything for Love, Snowboard Academy, Bikini Bandits etc, etc), but when acting as one unit these two midfielders are Hollywood gold! Expect a clichéd drug problem from these two footballers shortly, followed by a public falling out, a stint in rehab, and a string of unsuccessful comebacks. Also known as: Gory. Story. Allegory, Montessori…

6. Kane ‘Blackjack’ Tenace: While I’ve never heard this used, per se, the Captain came up with this beauty a few weeks back and I’ve been looking forward to giving it an airing ever since. Not immediately brilliant but think about it, Ten-Ace: Blackjack! My hats off, to you Captain, hats off. Also known as: Just Ace, or just, Ace

7. Cameron ‘Ladykiller’ Ling: The only person in Geelong that still hasn’t picked up at Lamby’s, the nickname is a bit of a dig at Ling’s inability to score a girl (not counting his sister) despite his status as an AFL footballer. Interestingly enough, ‘Ladykiller’ was voted 7th overall (I think) on the 2005 sexiest AFL footballer list. Surely this is a joke!? Surely!? Tension between ‘Tickets’ and ‘Ladykiller’ still exists because of Ling’s surprisingly high ranking. Also know as: Sheminator, Paddlepop Lion



8. Cam ‘The Hulk’ Mooney: Less the green skin and purple cargo pants, Cam Mooney IS the Hulk. C’mon, we’ve all seen it; within seconds, Mooney can go from a very handy utility to an absolute psychopath; from kicking a goal, to tearing a goal post from the turf and tossing it javelin style from one forward line to the other. Most of the time such behaviour just gets him suspended, but just knowing that Mooney could turn green at any moment is enough to make opponents think twice before stirring him up. Also known as: Money, The Good Mooney, That Gay Cowboy from Big Brother

9. Brad ‘Scumbag’ Ottens: While apparently called "Sex Fingers" by his team mates – he allegedly fucks anything he touches – I prefer to call the big man ‘Scumbag’. Called so by a Richmond supporter during his first game as a Cat, the nickname ‘Scumbag’ was then hi-jacked by us Geelong supporters after Ottens goaled during the first quarter. Kinda like the way ethnic Australians have used the derogative term, ‘Wog’, to describe themselves, hence rendering its original negative connotations ineffectual, Geelong fans have used ‘Scumbag’ as a show of support. Still, I wonder what happens when ‘Sex Fingers’ pets his dog, or hugs his Grandmother, for that matter. Sorry, someone had to ask. It might just explain that persistent groin injury. Also known as: more useful than King

10. Charlie ‘Don Burke’ Gardiner: The Gardiner/Don Burke link is an easy one to make, but is still a nickname that is sure to get your fellow supporters thinking. Using ‘Don Burke’ often gets you no response at all, but when people eventually click, you’re guaranteed a laugh. Another possible similarity: I’ve never seen Don play the game, but I’m pretty sure that if he did, he’d be just as shit as Charlie. Also known as: ‘The Constant’ Gardner, Green Thumb, eBay

11. Andrew ‘Puffer’ Mackie: On the same night my brother saw Henry Playfair wearing, quite seriously, a pair of orange pants at the George and Dragon, he also saw Andrew Mackie puffing away on a pack of Winfield Blues. Now, I don’t usually care what Cats players do in their spare time – Except you Kent! You should be fucking practicing! – but maintaining a pack a day smoking habit is unacceptable. No wonder you can’t get a kick after the 7 minute mark, ‘Puffer’, you’re not only out of breath, but you’re to busy sucking down the menthol you scammed from the cheer squad pre-game, to concentrate of taking a mark. Someone get this guy a nicotine patch, for fuck sake! Also known as: Smackie, Truck

12. Kent 'Fluffy' Kingsley: What can I say about Kent that hasn't been said already? Why is he called 'Fluffy'? Because he's soft, that's why! Stick a blue and white jumper on one of your little sister's soft toys, whack it in the Geelong forward line and watch it get knocked around, do nothing, then give up. That's Kent! Onya 'Fluffy'! Also known as: Kent of Kingsley, just plain frustrating.



13. Henry ‘The Octopus’ Playfair: Ok, so I get the Wiggles reference, but there's got to be more to it than that, doesn't there? Is it because he has long arms? Or because he’s about as cluey about football as an octopus might be? Henry sure is slow. I don’t use this nickname at all. Don’t like it. Use ‘H-Bomb’ instead. Also known as: Hank

14. Matt ‘Ego’ Egan: Named ‘Ego’, not for his expanding head size (see Tickets), but rather, for his lack of self-importance. Ego has proved himself an integral part of Geelong’s back line, taking countless tough marks each game, and remaining humble in his attitude despite much praise. Round these parts, "Egan! (is not a dirty word)". Also known as: Shirl, Skyhook, New Harley

Also worth a mention: David ‘Monica’ Wojcinski, Matthew Scarlett ‘Pimpernel’, and Stephen ‘Big Wheels’ King.

Out.

Cameron Mooney’s best position, or, I was wrong

All the way back on the 10th of May I wrote a blog that asked a few questions of the Geelong football team. One of the questions was about Cameron Mooney’s best position, and where he would provide the most value for the club. I argued that, given the aerobic capacity, he might be best used as a roaming ruck-rover, similar to the role Adam Goodes plays for Sydney; drifting forward, back and into the middle as required. This, I reasoned, would give the team flexibility, a bit of unpredictability, and a physical presence around the centre contests. And while all those things may still be correct, evidence of the past weeks says Cameron Mooney should not be used in this role.



Looking back, it all seems so obvious; In the Western Bulldogs blog I wrote about the way they use the middle of the ground and how that opens up the forward line. Earlier I had made reference to the best spot to attack the opposition defence from. Just this week I spoke of Jonathon Brown, his affect on the Lions, and his resemblance to one of the all time greats, King Carey. All this time I have been making a case for Cameron Mooney at centre half-forward and I didn’t even know it. Geelong’s most important player in the most important position. Let’s just back up a bit and we’ll work through it together. It’ll be okay, I promise…

In its simplest form, football is a game of yardage. The thing we are taught all the way back in under 10’s is to get the ball moving towards our goals and away form the opposition goals. This is still true in the highest form of football to some extent, be it the dribbled kick along the boundary, the kick off the ground on a rainy day, or the panicked torp out of defence; if you’re going to kick to a contest, it may as well be 50m away if 15, unless of course you’re Joel Smith, then all bets are off.

In all my time attending AFL matches, the cries from frustrated supporters have been the same; “Go long!”, “Down the middle!”, “Kick the bloody thing!” and “Fucking Steve Johnson…” And although they reek of the drunk, the uneducated, and the Drysdale reserves circa 1972, all of these relate to centre half-forward, except of course the last one, which relates to Steve Johnson being Steve Johnson. But I digress…

The way we want our teams to play, the way most coaches would like their teams play, is long and direct. And by having, not just a good target, but one of your best at centre half-forward facilitates this. It straightens a team up. You can kick the bloody thing long and up the middle because that’s where your best player is. The past 3 premiers have featured Barry Hall, Warren Tredrea and Jonathon Brown; coincidence?

Now, I’m sure there are plenty of astute football thinkers out there who have come to understand the importance of this position well before my weekend epiphany, but perhaps not the brains trust of the Geelong Football Club. For years they have searched for, drafted for and traded for what they called a ‘key position’ forward, when in actual fact they were talking about full-forwards. Brad Ottens is the latest example. Before him was Mitchell White, who was probably neither, and need I remind you of Brett Spinks? Now, Captain, you may be thinking, you’re splitting hairs here, a forward is a forward. I disagree however, I think the difference lies in that a centre-half forward can play full-forward but a full-forward can’t play centre half-forward. Carey, for example, was just as damaging in the goal square as the centre square, but did you ever see Jason Dunstall or Tony Lockett more the 15m from the goal posts?

Current recruiting would say the GFC have smartened up; Charlie Gardiner aside, Hank Playfair, Tom Lonergan, Nathan Ablett and the Hawkins father-son draftee of next year all seem suited to centre-half forward, albeit not this year, which brings me back to my original point; Cam Mooney.

The difference in the Geelong team over the past few weeks has been plain. Gone is the sideways ‘Cameron Ling special’ chip pass and back is the run through the middle, the direct play and the long kicking. I’m sure there are a number of contributing factors to the turn around, (David Wojincski comes to mind) but Cameron Mooney at centre half-forward would have to be top of that list.

In the now infamous West Coast collapse, Mooney played the centre half-forward role to great effect for 2 and a half quarters and was involved in probably 50% of the first half goals kicked. In the third term, coinciding with the beginning of the collapse, he was moved into defence to cover the injured Tom Harley. This was not an unusual coaching move, in fact, it was something he had done several times before, and this versatility was a big part of Mooney’s value to the team and what I was talking about in the first paragraph. Something changed that day, however. The midfielders, who were streaming forward with a real momentum in the first half, became hesitant with the ball. With Mooney covering at centre half-back, they looked up and saw Andrew Mackie. They saw Steve Johnson. They saw Henry Playfair. They saw Mark Blake. They saw these players and hesitated and went sideways and handballed and got beaten. It became obvious that Mooney must play centre half-forward.

Centre half-forward is the most important position on the ground. A good centre half-forward pushes up the middle to be the link from defence, as well as pushing deep towards the goals from centre breaks, all the while remaining in the corridor, straightening the team up. He is also required to push into defence when his team is without the ball, again, staying in the corridor to force the opposition out of it. A good centre half-forward must provide a physical presence, instilling hesitancy into defenders who want to zone off and try to take his space. He also must provide confidence in team mates to kick the ball long to him, and equally to those who crumb at his feet, allowing them to run into attacking positions. Watch a replay of the Geelong v Fremantle game and note the differences between Mooney and Pavlich.

Forwards like Brad Ottens and Nathan Ablett are going to have great days where they are able to carry the forward line; hell, even Kent kicked 8 goals in round 2. But a good centre half-forward is more than ‘key position’; he’s a leader, and his team is only going to go as far as he can will them to go. Cameron Mooney should know this; he had a pretty good example to follow in his days at North Melbourne. I reckon Bomber Thompson knows this as well; he hasn’t moved Cam Mooney from centre half-forward since the West Coast game.

Fun with numbers

With readers in such far away places as London, L.A., Perth and the Gold Coast (Lauren, this is a shout out), Big League Little League is becoming a truly global entity. You too can be a part of the phenomenon by emailing us; be it your tips, an idea for an article, or just good old fashioned hate mail. Drop us a line.

bigleaguelittleleague@hotmail.com

This week’s non-celebrity tipster for the first leg of the split round is the infamous Daz “Reef” Lowery, a Hawthorn supporter, who has been kind enough to provide us with a few comments on each game as well. Let’s get into it, game by game, winners in bold. (By the way, apologies for the lack of photos - technical difficulties.)

St.Kilda v Adelaide
Daz: Adelaide has the killer instinct

Captain: St.Kilda aren’t without a chance here at the dome, but Daz might be right about Adelaide; they look very, very good with plenty of players to come back from injury. What’s in the water there, besides way too much fluoride?

Mrs. Watson: What’s in the Water? Class, that’s what! Adelaide are way too classy for the sorry looking Saints, at the moment. ‘Potential’ Henschel to kick a bag. Burton to crack his head open (fingers crossed). Adelaide at the Dome by 20 or so.

Fremantle v Geelong
Daz: Geelong perform well when you least expect it

Mrs Watson: Who are you trying to kid, Daz? Geelong don’t have a chance in hell! Every fuckin’ Geelong supporter I talk to this week has spoken of the “good feeling” they have this week about the game. Now, I’m all for staying faithful, but acting stupid is something entirely different. Geelong stink interstate – it’s as easy as that. Fremantle to win by 30 points.

Captain: These days, the Lady Captain is all too familiar with Geelong’s struggles, which last week prompted this, “Geelong is like a bad boyfriend; they get your hopes up before crushing them in the worst possible way.” For this reason she thinks they’ll reel off about 3 wins in a row, thus regaining the confidence of the spurned fans, before falling in heap again, like the losers they always were. Well, one win down, two to go. Score one for the Lady Captain. I think there’s some merit in her idea, and I know Geelong doesn’t have any room for error. So book me a seat on that ‘good feelin’ train, Mrs. Watson, cats by less than 2 goals.

Brisbane v Western Bulldogs
Daz: No-one on the WB can stop Jon Brown

Captain: An excellent point here from Reef, yet I think he’s stopped short; I would say no-one in the league can stop Brown. He is finally starting to look consistently Careyish. You know, with him being from Warrnambool, I always held out hope that he’d one day he’d play for Geelong. He seems pretty happy in Brisbane however; what can we offer him that Queensland can’t, Mrs. Watson?

Mrs. Watson: A coach that won’t rip your nuts off for glancing at his wife’s cleavage. I think Bulldogs. 10 points.

Captain: And, let’s be honest, if you are following in Wayne’s footsteps this sort of thing is bound to come up.

Port Adelaide v West Coast
Daz: Midfield too good

Mrs Watson: I can’t explain it, but for some reason, this season I’ve enjoyed watching Port Adelaide play. Don’t get me wrong, I know a pack of Girl Guides who could serve as a stronger back line, but I think they’re getting their shit back together (somewhat) this year. Lade is in superb form, the Cornes’ can’t be stopped, and if Tredrea plays like he did last week, this’ll be a very close game. Ebert for 3 goals. Port by 18 points.

Captain: Ebert!? Anyone but him! Oh well, at least you’re reading my articles. Tell me, is Stuart Dew still around? Or has he finally ballooned to Kirstie Alley type dimensions? I’m interested because Josh Hunt could be useful if given the correct role, you know, being able to kick the ball 60+ metres and all. Lips Thompson might want to take a look at some Port Adelaide game tapes from 2004, ‘cos I’m pretty sure Stuart Dew wasn’t having 6 goals kicked on him at full-back every week.

Hawthorn v Richmond
Daz: Hawks go alright in Tassie

Captain: Yep, the Hawks like Tassie alright, but not as much as Jon Hay! Eh? Eh? Anyone? Ah forget it. Hawthorn could probably use another tall defender at the moment however, and a drunk Jon Hay is still probably better than Zac Dawson. You know, after that TV show, I just don’t trust anyone called Dawson anymore. It could be Daz’s Hawthorn loyalty showing through here, but it could also be his in-built reluctance to trust anything Richmond does, otherwise known as, ‘common sense’. I can’t wait til Lance Franklin becomes a player, Hawks to get back on the winners list.

Mrs. Watson: I say, if the Hawks like Tasmania so much, why don’t they just move the whole club there? Better (and cheaper) still, keep the team in Melbourne, but just scatter the crowd with the odd toothless two-headed yokel, and turn the volume on the siren right down so that no bastard can hear it. If the HFC do this, they won’t be stopped. I’m with you Daz, Hawks by less than 20.

Essendon v Melbourne
Daz: Bombers stink, Dees too good

Mrs. Watson: Yes, the Bombers stink, but let’s not forget that Melbourne lost to Carlton in Round 1, and Essendon smell like a fuckin’ banana split compared to those tip rats. I’m predicting a similar show of over-confidence in this game from the Dees, and another shameful loss. Hird is back. Essendon will win (do I really believe that?). 5 points.

Captain: While I too am waiting for the typical Melbourne ‘over-confident-fade-out’ game, I don’t think it’s gonna be this week. Hird will help, but only if the senile Sheedy plays him the forward half. This will make Essendon focus their forward delivery towards Hird, allowing Scott Lucas to ‘back door’ his Hird-aware defender and kick 4 of the cheapest goals you’ll ever see in a losing side. Typical Lucas.

Annoying small forwards, or, the Matthew Robbins corollary

Let me set the scene: Friday night football, a misty Telstra Dome, early in the fourth quarter and Geelong nursing what would normally be a comfortable lead. Events of recent weeks had shown us, however, that there is no such as a comfortable lead with this team. Enter Steve Johnson. Hardly taking possession of the ball, he guides it, one-handed, onto the outside of his right boot and bananas through the sealer. “How’d he do that?,” comes from the mouth of my viewing companion, and simultaneously, from the mouth of Johnson’s opponent. Well, I answer them both, and to some extent myself, that’s Steve Johnson for you; he’s our Matthew Robbins. And thus the Matthew Robbins corollary is born:

1. Every team must have at least one forward line player who;
a) gets cheap free kicks and gets away with dirty and/or sneaky play, all while constantly appealing for free kicks;
b) kicks cheap goals, e.g. receiving a handpass in the goal square, or when his team is leading or trailing by at least 40 points;
c) over celebrates, often with little reaction from obviously unimpressed team-mates;
d) on the rare occasion manages to pop-up and kick a back-breaking goal, often prompting opposition supporters to respond, ‘anyone but him!’

Here we go, team by team, alphabetically;

Adelaide: Brett Burton
Without doubt Mrs. Watson’s most hated of players, the budgie leads the league in ‘denied high fives by team-mates’ and would probably captain the all-ugly team if it wasn’t for Linga. [Grrrrrrrrr! – Mrs. Watson]

Brisbane: Jason Akermanis
Although Tim Notting seems to get himself into excellent ‘handball over the top’ territory, and Ash McGrath is improving in this area all the time, Aker still tops the ‘anyone but him’ stakes. (By the way, did you see that goal he kicked on the weekend, when he turned and asked the crowd, ‘did you see that?’ I love that shit.)

Carlton: Matthew Lappin
There’s a few contenders here; Eddie Betts, Brad Fisher and Heath Scotland, but in the forward 50 no-one’s voice is louder than Lappin’s.

Collingwood: Alan Didak
Has elevated his game to a new level by kicking his opponents this year. When he’s lining up for goal I wish you could bet on things like, ‘Didak to play on and try to take on the man on the mark’.

Essendon: Scott Lucas
Probably a controversial choice as he’s more a key position forward, but gets in because every time he has the ball he is guaranteed to have a shot for goal. Must be great playing with him.

Fremantle: Jeff Farmer/Paul Medhurst (tie)
Two of the very best here, so good, in fact, that this column was almost dedicated to Jeff Farmer… under a bus. (Are you still into it?)

Geelong: Steve Johnson
Johnson possesses all the classic qualities you look for, plus has the right amount of, I believe the correct term is, tin-ass.

Hawthorn: Ben Dixon
I seem to have lost my venom for Brent Guerra now he has hair.

Kangaroos: Corey Jones
Another one of Mrs. Watson’s favourites, it must be noted that Leigh Harding put up a strong fight to be named here but we aren’t considering reserves players.

Melbourne: Aaron Davey
I really wanted to put Russell Robertson here, but unfortunately I could not ignore the league leading amount of ‘free kicks that weren’t really there’ paid to Davey.

Port Adelaide: Brett Ebert
As you’d imagine, the Burgoyne bros. were close but ultimately edged out by Ebert because he looks like the victim of bad plastic surgery… or a stroke.

Richmond: Kane Pettifer
It might be the un-coordinated kicking action, the constant pushing in the back, or an affinity for dribbling goals along the ground, but anyone who can gain this honour in the shadow of Richo, Metro and Krakour etc is doing something very, very wrong.

St.Kilda: Stephen Milne
Who else, but the famous (alleged) date rapist himself? Yep, Rohypnol Milne is in the Didak class when it comes to running around the man on the mark and screaming for the handpass when his team-mate is 15m out.

Sydney: Nick Davis
With Adam Schneider, Amon Buchanon, Michael O’Loughlin, Ryan O’Keefe and even Adam Goodes, it’s just an absolute smorgasbord in the harbour town. I couldn’t go past Davis, however, for obvious reasons. Smug prick.

West Coast: Andrew Embley
Still hurting from the retirement of the second ugliest Matera , Phil, West Coast are lacking a little on this department. Andrew Embley looks like the kinda guy who would pay for a round so he could try to pick up your girlfriend while you're at the bar. Adam Hunter also came to mind with his 80’s hair and permanent blank look, which could indicate steely concentration or the fact that he’s just a moron. I know which one my money’s on.

Western Bulldogs: Matthew Robbins
On a team that fields what seems like 22 annoying, over-rated half forward flankers every week, Robbins still manages to stand out. Managing to squeeze football around a busy schedule of waxing and tanning, Robbins, along with the Budgie, has taken the ‘leaping too early for a mark’ phenomenon to new heights, and has the ‘I haven’t got it’ arms out appeal for a free kick down to a fine art.

Lips and Lungs - by The Captain

So, Lips reckons he’ll quit if the Cats don’t fire up; 12 games to keep his job. I’m not sure this is such a bad thing. Don’t get me wrong, I think he’s done an excellent job, but he’s been there seven years and perhaps the current playing group need some fresh ideas. Now, this whole thing might just be a bluff, some kind of motivational tactic to inspire the players to ‘do it for Coach’, but what if he did leave? Who would be best to fill the breech?



The way I see it, coaches generally fit into one of 4 moulds; the disciplinarian, the father figure, the best friend or the innovator. Coaches might contain elements of other categories, but for the most part they are one or the other. Listen now.

The Disciplinarian:
Historically the most common, the disciplinarian contains elements of the father figure but with more of an abusive step-dad kind of feel. Uncompromising, it’s their way or the magoo’s; just ask Aker about Leigh Matthews, or ‘The Chop’ Gardiner about Worsfold. Neil Craig fits the mould, and Dean Laidley is trying, but with about as many wins as dead supporters, it ain’t really working.

The Father Figure:
Both the disciplinarian and father figure will abuse and belittle but the father figure will, at the players lowest point, praise and encourage, making the encouragement feel that much more momentous. It’s sort of a ‘break em down, build em back up’ approach. Manipulative bastards. Sorry Sir. I love you dad. Often coaches who have begun as disciplinarians will evolve into father figures, such as Rodney Eade, Denis Pagan and Mick Malthouse.

The Best Friend:
These coaches constantly back their players publicly and are positive 90% of the time, making that 10% have the desired effect; kinda like when a mate tells you he thinks you might have a drinking problem, only he says this while you’re both at the pub. Lips would fit into this group along with Neale Daniher, Chris Connolly, Paul Roos and Alistair Clarkson, although we all know Kennett will be firing him after this season. Long live Jeffery. Magnificent bastard.

The Innovator:
These guys are constantly trialling new tactics and motivational methods; very outside the box type people. To pull this off you probably need strong father figure type traits as well, like Kevin Sheedy and Terry Wallace. Lately Grant ‘Walnut’ Thomas has been trying hard to fill this role with trips to the movies instead of training and losing instead of winning. It wouldn’t surprise me if Nick Riewoldt starting in the backline against Geelong was on the advice of a Feng Shui expert.

The Exception:
As always, there is an exception to the rule; this type of coach being sly, conniving, ungrateful, disloyal, dishonest, vain and probably mentally unstable; ladies and gentleman, Mark Williams!

All of these types of coaches have had some success; they key is to match the coach to the club, the city, the culture. Keeping in mind Mrs. Watson’s latest offering, any prospective Geelong coach must be mindful of history and how it repeats itself. He (or she, lets keep an open mind here) must be prepared for the fragile eco-system that is Geelong. The whole town rides on the confidence of this team and conversely the town’s confidence rides with the team. Again, echoing Mrs. Watson, no other town can make this claim.

The last great Geelong coach, if I can call him that, was Malcolm Blight, an innovator who brought a little bit of the ‘us against the world’ attitude with him. I think the fact that he was so innovative, and unafraid to try some of the audacious things he did, isolated him from Geelong and its traditional conservatism. This, I think, freed him and the team somewhat, from the pressure and expectations of the town. Anyone else remember him shifting Gaz Snr. mid-game to full-back to play on Jason Dunstall? I do, and people were scratching their heads, questioning the sanity of the coach. Admittedly, Dunstall kicked about another 4 on Ablett, who had never played full back in his life, but the point was made; anything can happen. He made it difficult for the fans, and probably the players, to relate to him, thus elevating himself to an untouchable pedestal; for who were we to question the man when we couldn’t understand him.



Lips Thompson, on the other hand, is your every man, your mate. While Malcolm was kicking 70m torps to win finals, Bomber was toiling away in the back pocket for the powerhouse Essendon sides of 80’s. And he brings the same no-nonsense, hard work approach to coaching; a method appreciated in a city of industry such as Geelong. His methods are pragmatic, understandable and perfect for teaching young men how become league footballers and a young side how to become competitive, recent evidence aside. But is it enough to get over the ultimate hump? Granted, Blighty didn’t either, but at least he gave ‘em three tries at it, and he got there in fewer games than Lips.

I don’t want to lead the torch and pitchfork brigade after just a few sub-standard games, but the man himself has admitted he might only have 12 games left to save his career. And often a coach can only take a team so far; Sydney, for example, improved greatly under the disciplinarian reign of Rocket Eade but it took the best friend approach of Paul Roos to achieve the ultimate.

What we can safely say is that Essendon, on a nine game losing streak, are about the only team struggling more than Geelong. And to be honest, the Cats should bend them over and give them a good seeing to. But either way things pan out it’ll be a timely reminder for Lips and the Geelong Football Club, as Essendon have been coached by the same bloke for 25 years. Perhaps Sheeds, a classic innovator, might have a bit of advice for Lips, his former player. Or perhaps he’ll line Scott Lucas up at full back. You just never know with these bastards.

Cats by 32.
________________________________________

Big League Little League’s non-celebrity tips

Can’t choose between Collingwood and Melbourne? Couldn’t give a toss between Richmond and the Kangaroos? Don’t even know who Fremantle are playing? Then this is for you! Every Friday we’ll be posting a different, non-celebrity’s tips to help you climb the corporate ladder by losing the office tipping contest to the boss. Good job, boot lace!

Want Mrs Watson and the Captain to ridicule your tips? Email us by Thursday at bigleaguelittleleague@hotmail.com and you could be our next non-celebrity tipster!

This week’s non-celebrity tipster: Perennial drinker and Melbourne rock God; some call him the Reverend, some call him Michael, but most know him simply as, Moe.


Moe pictured, with his biggest fan...

Geelong
Richmond
Adelaide
Sydney
Port Adelaide
Western Bulldogs
West Coast
Collingwood

Captain: Moe seems firmly entrenched on the Richmond and Collingwood band wagon, the interstaters pick themselves, and he's gone with the Cats, who I reckon are Mortal locks for tonight.

Mrs. Watson: It's a no brainer tonight, seriously. Surely, after losing to the Eagles by only 3 points, they won't go down to the Bombers. Will they? The Richmond v Kangaroos game is more difficult. I, personally, think that the Kangaroos will win. A close call against Sydney last week, so I reckon they're there abouts.

What does Moe know about football anyways, the guy has an official membership to to the "House MD" fanclub, and an attraction to button-eyed sock puppets. I've seen the ads, that House guy limps like Nathan Brown. Speaking of which, that metro-wanker is back this week. Oh, joy (please note sarcasm).

Captain: Does the TAB post odds on things like ‘Nathan Brown to break the same leg in sickening collision with Drew Petrie’s head’? I’ve got a bad feeling about Browny this week. Speaking of the TAB, Carlton would be worth a go at about $8, wouldn’t they?

Mrs. Watson: Are you joking? Those are still generous odds for that terrible, terrible football team. Don’t waste your coin, Captain.

The really interesting game, I reckon, is Monday’s clash between the Demons and the Maggies. Should be a good one. Gary Lyon has rather exaggeratedly labelled it the game of the season, but I’d call a Melbourne vs Collingwood game just a good place to get your wallet stolen. I hope Melbourne win. Those Magpie bastards need to be taken down a peg or two. Moe’s right though, Collingwood will probably win, but keep an eye on how they go without Dane Swan.

Captain: Yeah, I reckon a lot of people are still sceptical of Melbourne; Collingwood too. I’m surprised Moe isn’t with Neale Daniher though, you know, one Reverend to another. Oh well, thanks anyway Moe.

“What’s wrong with you!?”, or, why Geelong supporters are idiots



I don’t mind Geelong; living here, I mean. Sure, the same stink saturated bum that yells at me on my way to work each morning is starting to really give me the shits, and those Goddamn palm trees down Moorabool are a fucking embarrassment (I’m waiting for the day a coconut falls from one of those bastards and paralyses the guy at K-Rock whose job it is to squeeze as much shite music into one day as humanly possible), but there are also some great things about living in this town. For a start, where else in the world would I go if I wanted to see a giant fibreglass replica of the Sphinx? Secondly, Geelong has more tattoo parlours than people. This is probably a Guinness world record, and also a convenient statistic for those locals waiting for just the right moment to get that “tribal” motif stabbed permanently into their ankle or calve.

Such admiration might sound weird. In fact, you’re probably starting to think that someone with such low standards has probably never actually left Geelong, but this is not the case, I can assure you. Despite the fact that I usually refuse to travel anywhere I can’t buy a Beaumonts Pie, I have, believe it or not, visited other cities. Under no circumstances would I call myself the most well travelled G-towner, but I’m experienced enough to know that Sydney rates itself way too highly, that the drive to Adelaide is more interesting than Adelaide itself, and that Ballarat should probably just rent a bulldozer and start the fuck again. Sure, Geelong is an ugly, cold, unwelcoming beast in its own right, but we G-towners know why we live here, and a detailed justification of our decision to call it home is not necessary. It’s simple: this little town has its own football team.

Not one other Aussie city, not even Fremantle (who shares the largest state in the country with only one other team), shares the same strange relationship with its AFL club that Geelong shares with its Cats. Even those Geelong people who claim to barrack for other teams can’t seem to shake their interest in the side. A Collingwood supporter who lives in Geelong probably couldn’t tell you the last time the Magpies won a Grand Final, but their statistical knowledge of the great 90s Cats sides would amaze you. During the colder months of the year this city is ALL about the Geelong Football Club. We eat football. We shit football. We lap football up like thirsty dogs at public toilet urinals. I think you get my point. For most of the year, GFC is Geelong.

Up until now though, I have ignorantly thought that this relationship between the town and the team was one (at least most of the time) based on “support”. The team wins: we clap them off the ground and drink ourselves into a stinky, drunken mess to celebrate. The team loses: we still get shitfaced, but we also still buy memberships, we still go to games, we still “support” the team. It’s a little confusing then, that in our current situation (3 wins, 7 losses) the meaning of the word “support” seems to have morphed into something completely different. In Geelong right now, to “support” means to ridicule, to blame the coach, and to send a letter to the Geelong Fucking Advertiser declaring your disgust in the team. Right now, the word means give up on the Cats unless, of course, they’re going well.

You disgust me Geelong.

Now I know, like every Geelong supporter, how Goddamn frustrating it is to support the Cats. It’s not an easy gig being a Cats fan, is it? Let’s take 2006 for example, as this season seems to have caused many G-towners a great deal of agony. The NAB Cup win, while possibly one of the greatest things EVER!!!! (although I stopped short of buying the DVD), filled the town with great confidence for the season ahead. This was our year, our premiership, our stinkin’ turn for Christs’ sake. But shit happens Cats fans – you lose to the Hawks and the downward spiral begins. Before you know it, a 54 point lead turns into a blue and white pyjama party and a 3 point loss. Geelong supporters know what I mean when I say, “this is typical Cat behaviour.” But I for one, still really, truly believe this Geelong team to be far from typically Geelong.

Whether you agree or not, the point of the matter is that they’re not going to get out of this slump with the whole town on their back. The team’s close link to the city is a real fucking curse at the moment. Use your heads! Stop threatening to throw away your membership. Stop booing the team off K-park. Stop feeding the Geelong Fucking Advertiser with your half-assed miracle solution to fixing the team’s forward line problems, and start showing up at games again. Keep the fuckin’ faith, you idiots.

Sure, us G-towners love our team, but we love to hate it as well, and this is becoming a huge fucking problem. Mark my words, we will NEVER win a flag while you bastards are waiting for the team to fuck-up. Last weekend was a perfect example of this, because if you’re still wondering where that 54 point lead went, the negativity exuding from the 20,000 people at KP last weekend played a big part in the loss.

Out.

Dog and Pony show, or, Hey, Danny Dumile!

As the disaster that is the Geelong Football Club 2006 rolls on, and the players, staff, members and citizens of Geelong are left searching for answers, it may be worth looking outside for ideas; or at least for temporary relief. Daniel Dumile, this one’s for you.

The Western Bulldogs defeated Hawthorn by 21 points on the weekend, improving their season record to 6 wins, 4 losses. Not exactly setting the world on fire, but upon closer inspection, their record is respectable at the very least.

Of their 4 losses, they have only been truly out of the contest once; their 77 point thrashing at the hands of Adelaide, which was played at AAMI stadium and has been their only defeat by more than 6 goals. Their other three losses are to St.Kilda, Sydney at the SCG and Collingwood. As I said, respectable; I mean it’s not like they’ve lost to Richmond at home or anything. So they’ve beaten who they’ve been expected to beat and been close to everyone else. More interesting than their results, however, is their style of play, the skill it requires and the confidence they have in it. They are, in a sense, the anti-Geelong. So, how do they do it? Let’s break it down, Clint Eastwood-style:

THE GOOD
The Coach: The appointment of Rocket Eade last year, after the disastrous Peter Rhodes Era, was the catalyst for the current Western revival, and after watching ‘The Godfather’ last night, I will never understand the Rhodes appointment. You see, the past three Bulldogs coaches are like Vito Corleone’s three sons; Terry Wallace is the power hungry Sonny, Rhodes the feeble Fredo, and Eade the young and sharp, Michael. Even though Fredo was the elder brother, everyone knew he was a screw-up, and when Sonny died, Vito trusted the running of the Family to Michael. Rhodes’ coaching record in two seasons was 8-35-1. Never hire a Fredo.

The Fitness: More and more the game has become about hard running; it seems whoever can outrun their opponent wins, something I witnessed firsthand on Saturday. Hard running provides numbers at the contest, options for you team-mates and pressure on the opposition. And it requires extremely high levels of fitness.

The Skills: The gulf between well skilled and poorly skilled players is something I struggle to understand about the AFL. It appears to be the easiest thing to work on and to improve, yet skill errors are still one the main reasons for teams losing, or at least dropping their heads and getting blown out. Maybe in the 80’s, when players had jobs outside the AFL, their work commitments prevented them from training and practising as often as required. No such excuses these days. And besides, Couchy and his mates used to park their garbage truck at the end of my Court and punt plastic bottles into the back, and he won a Brownlow. I’m guessing they were payed by the hour.

The Corridor: Whenever possible the Dogs go right up the middle, but not with a kick; they run through the middle. Remember those first Docker teams, playing on at all costs, drawing a man then handballing over the top, running the ball forward rather than kicking it? Sound familiar? It should, it’s what the Doggies are doing. Those early Docker teams had the right idea but just couldn’t take it to its most effective end. They would often get tangled up at half-back, seemingly handpassing it around in circles, before it inevitably became unstuck. These days, with switching play and creating space a common and accepted occurrence, the Dogs can chip it sideways in defence until one their players ‘breaks a line’, in which case they generally bring it through the middle, which gives them more options to pass to, or an easier shot for goal.

The Run: Because of the coach, due to their fitness, owing to the game plan and made possible by their skills, the Doggies constantly run ahead of the play. The idea is simple; to have more players around the ball than the opposition. This allows Bulldog players to carry the ball and give it up once they are challenged. It is why they kick so many goals on the run, it is why they kick so many goals, period (they are the 2nd highest scorer this season, behind Collingwood). This style of play shows confidence in your team-mates ability to win the ball, his decision making with the ball and his skills in disposing of the ball.

THE BAD
The Turnover/Rebound: As outlined in the previous paragraph, running ahead of the ball can be a good thing; however, there is a flipside to that coin. Because players run ahead of the play, if an error in judgement or skill occurs, the opposition now has the numbers going the other way and the ball can end up sailing over your full-back’s head faster than you can say Daniel Giansiracusa.

The Lack of Size: When everything is up and running big guys seem like a waste of space; not quick enough and not skilled enough. However, as seen most tellingly against St.Kilda, the Bulldogs lack of size can be exploited by a strong, tall forward line.

The Long Term: This is more of an unknown, than a bad. Historically, a one-on-one, defensive, physical style of play, coupled with a power forward, has stood up in September. The Dockers, pioneers of the run/possession style of game, ending up imploding to such a state that they haven’t been right since, or you could argue, at all.

The Poser: Every team has one player like this; the one who gets away with pushing in the back, who always gets the handpass in the goal square, the one with copious amounts of fake tan, the one who hasn’t done anything all day and then manages to kick a back breaking goal in the last quarter followed by an over the top celebration and some convoluted salute to the crowd… Matthew Robbins, this is a fuck you.

THE UGLY
The Injuries: Darcy gone again, Murphy out for the year, Giansiracusa and Mitch Hahn have hammy problems and Will Minson is doing his best Steven King impersonation. Not to mention other lesser lights such as Tim Walsh, Shane Birss and Tom Williams.

The Ruck: To be fair, he’s probably the 3rd option, but Peter Street? Peter fucking Street? Trading for him was probably the final nail in the coffin of Fredo Rhodes.

The Oldies: As good as they are, one wonders how much more West, Grant, Smith, Johnson and probably Darcy have left in them. Those five players have been the core of the Bulldogs for a long time and will leave a fair hole when they eventually finish up.

One of the signs of a good coach is adapting your game plan to suit your personnel and this is something Rocket Eade has done very well. However, the Doggies have yet to beat anyone above them on the ladder and until they do there will be questions about their style of play and their lack of a key position forward. Hey, speaking of key forwards, do you think the Bulldogs would be interested in a chest-marking, pub-owning, slightly Fluffy, full-forward? No? Damn, if only Fredo was still around.

Zeroes & Ones: A Counterpoint, or, Dog’s Ass Theory

Preface

After only a few months of blogging here at Big League, Little League, it seems two separate, and very distinct football voices have emerged. As the Captain’s blog from a few days ago confirms, his calm, rational, common sense posts often act as a perfect balance to my irrational, sometimes angry and preposterous proclamations of know-it-all-edness. Now I’m happy that some of you Big Leaguers feel the need to hold me to my completely ridiculous AFL predictions, but please know that if you do, you’re missing the point. My job round here is to speak shit. It’s not to correctly predict the outcome of games, or the form of teams; it’s simply to be as outlandish as possible, and to hopefully get a few laughs while making a few good points at the same time. I’m sure if you’ve read some of my better posts on this blog, you’ll understand what I’m talking about. So before you point out how wrong I’ve been, or how little I know about football, consider the fact that you’re not in on the joke. If I need any confirmation of my own relative clueless-ness, I’ve got a very fucking unflattering football tipping record to do that. To everyone else, keep up the comments.

So, without further ado, let the bullshit continue…



So, Kent’s been given the ass. I think everyone will agree with me when I say, “Thank Christ for that,” but what’s more confusing than seeing Jarred Rooke driving a late 80s model silver Laser yesterday, is why in the heck wasn’t Fluffy dropped three years ago. I can already hear his supporters screaming, “but he kicked 57 goals last year, which is more than anyone else on the side.” But what I say in direct response to such piddle is this: “just 57!?” Kent’s been our leading goal scorer for the past four seasons, including 2003 when he kicked just 33 goals, but these statistics aren’t enough to warrant his consistent inclusion in the Geelong squad. Is 33, or even 57 goals something for a so-called full forward to be proud of? Shit no! But it’s something the Cats have settled for, and for too long.

Now, if you know me, then you’ll also know that I’ve never been a fan of Kent. To me, the guy’s never acted like a full forward, or even a footballer, really. And why would he? The guy’s a millionaire; he’s got no motivation to perform. I’m not saying he doesn’t try, after all, no-one’s forcing him to play, but what I’m suggesting is subconsciously, Kent doesn’t really care. To me, after making his fortune, football seems more like a way of staying fit, for Fluffy, than it does a true passion. This all sounds a little harsh I know, but I really don’t blame Kent. I mean, it’s not his fault he keeps getting picked.

Now, let’s talk about last week shall we. I was there, underneath the score board, with my lucky blue Cons on, confident of victory. In my opinion, it was a game we could have and should have won. Now, Captain, while I agree with you that post-game, all that really exists is a tick (a 1) or a cross (a 0), where I disagree, is when any conclusions can’t be drawn from these numbers. In my opinion, these binary results all add up. Please, allow me to misinterpret your theory further…

While at the heart of the binary system is the number 1, and 0, things only get done when very complex variations of these two digits are interpreted. If computers ran on just a 1, or just a 0, I don’t think we would have even made it to the development of games like Pitfall, or Mrs. Pacman, let alone to the stage where I can watch high definition porn at work. A computer draws conclusions from long strings of these numbers, much like we as football supporters do. Now, if wins are represented by 1s, and losses 0s, then Geelong’s recent history going into last weeks game would have looked something like this: 1010101111111011111100010. Not a terribly flattering set of numbers, mind you, but when set against Richmond’s own string of binary code, which might have looked something like this: 000000000000000000001, you can see why most of G-town would have been fuckin’ confident of a victory. On a week to week basis, sure, a 1 or a 0, can have little or no meaning, but statistics, ladders, or educated guesses, as we know, aren’t based on single digits.

Predictions based on statistics aren’t always right however, and so teams like Geelong sometimes lose to teams like Richmond, but usually not. This is why I think the Captain has decided to put aside his ridiculous superstitions this week, and go to the Eagles game at KP. It’s because tomorrow, the sun’s rays might even shine on a Cat’s ass. It’d be a nice change.

West Coast by 50pts.

Out.

In the meantime...

Hey Big Leaguers, check this out.

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Proper post tomorrow.

Out.