Blindfucks 101, or, how many fingers am I holding up?



Look at this photo of Sainter, Justin Koschitzke. He looks relatively normal, right? I mean, he doesn’t look completely blind, or mentally handicapped in any way does he? I mean, sure, in typical St Kilda style, his hair has had far too much attention paid to it, but other than that, by looking at this shot you wouldn’t suspect that there is anything really ‘wrong’ with him, would you? To answer this last rhetoroical question for you: No.

Believe it or not however, Justin actually suffers from a condition known as Blindfuck Syndrome, a very rare condition which severely effects the vision of it sufferers, rendering them virtually blind to very large, obvious objects in their direct field of vision. Seemingly harmless, inactive objects such as cars, doors, even stationary persons dressed in bright fuckin’ colours, are life threatening hazards to Blindfucks. While this diagnosis might be news to Koschitzke himself, for those who know what to look for, signs of his condition have been evident for quite some time.

As far as I can tell, Blindfucks looked to be taking hold of Justin as long as 12 months ago. Way back in Round 19, 2005, in a game against the Cats, Koschitzke was sited twice for making negligent contact with umpires. One of these incidents involved an umpire who’d just bounced the ball for a ruck contest. Sound familiar?

Let’s skip forward to 2006, when in Round 6, during a game against the Western Bulldogs, Giansiracusa ran sixty metres to knock Koschitzke flat. Forget the fact that more than twenty-five thousand people were screaming at Koschitzke, warning him as Giansiracusa approached, what’s more interesting here is that not once, did he look in front of him to see if anything was there. Hell, if you ask me, Justin’s lucky he only ran into one person, and not an entire pack of players, or fence, or a point post.



Such behaviour is common in Blindfucks. It is so difficult to focus on just one target, that often sufferers simply forget where they're going, resulting in dangerous collisions. Imagine if Nintendo’s Mario, at the same time as dodging Cooper Troopers and collecting coins, was asked to read Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason; a difficult read on the couch, let alone in the company of angry horned turtles, and fire breathing plants. And you can forget about navigating your way through those pipe tunnels with a book in your hand. Sounds difficult, and down right fuckin’ dangerous doesn’t it? For Justin, everyday life is just like this.

Another common symptom of BS is the No-Breakfast Seizure, or NBS. For most us, skipping breakfast only results in mild cases of mid-morning hunger, but for Blindfuck sufferers, such as Justin Koschitzke, skipping the regular morning bowl of Coco-Pops can result in slurred speech and even seizure. This was demonstrated on Channel 7 a few weeks ago when Justin, while being interviewed by David Schwarz, collapsed in a blubbering mess. While early scans suspected that the conversation with Schwarz had led Koschitzke to simply doze off, the St-Kilda football club later stated that the player had suffered an NBS. National panic was eased however, when after a few slices of raisin toast and a mug of warm Milo, Justin was released from hospital, seemingly fit as a fiddle.

Finally, Koschitzke’s run-in with the umpire this weekend only leads this expert to believe that he’s reached the final, most devastating stage of Blindfuck Syndrome: complete loss of vision, and mental retardation.



Ok, ok, ok. Jokes aside though, how did he not see the ump? Someone, please explain to me how a footballer doesn’t see an umpire who is standing right in front of him, bouncing the ball for the very ruck contest he is involved in. They don't deck umpires out in those fluorescent uniforms just to make them feel awkward, Justin. Surely the guy has brain damage? Maybe he can use Blindfuck Syndrome as an excuse when he fronts the VFL tribunal this week. Can someone help him get there in one piece though? Geez.

Before I go…a couple of comments on yesterday’s Cats game. First of all, judging by the amount of times Mooney fell over in the first half, I think it’s safe to assume that he was trying his luck with an old pair of Dunlop Vollies. He looked absolutely lost for a lot of the day, except for that bit where he smacked Mahoney in the kidnies, in plain view of the umpires and everyone else at KP. Thanks Cameron, for a while there we’d thought you’d gone soft. Take a week off, enjoy the rest, you’re having a great year! Secondly, Cameron Ling – you’re a joke. Thirdly, Andrew Mackie – you’re a joke too.

Fourthly (is that really a word?), while everyone in G-Town is tickling Stokes’ balls over his performance yesterday, I’d like to congratulate Scumbag Ottens on a great game. Sure, Stokes’ 10 minute purple patch came at a convenient point of the match, but I reckon Ottens’ game in the ruck, as well as his two tough goals from both pockets kept us in it. Without those two kicks, Port’s defensive tomfoolery probably would have won out. Thanks Scumbag. You're alright, kid. You're alright.

Out.