Diary of a Madman, or, Yes, an NBL game
It’s Wednesday eve in fair Melbourne town and Mrs Watson and I are in search of entertainment. Luckily, there are options a plenty; The Socceroo’s are playing their Olympic qualifier at the Telstra Dome, The Vics are taking on the Queensland Bulls in a day-nighter at the MCG and Iron Maiden are plying their dark trade at Rod Laver Arena. So where do we go? Across the road to Vodafone arena for the NBL clash between the South Dragons and Cairns Taipans. Yep, that’s right, an NBL game. And I was good enough to keep a running diary for you.
Pre-Game
In all fairness, we did book these tickets a while ago, deciding an NBL game would be as close to time-travel as we’d ever get. We chose the Taipans primarily because of Nathan Jawai, who had been touted as a possible NBA prospect, and because they were in town on a Wednesday night, giving us the opportunity to drink mid-week. Armed with Mrs Watson’s credit card, we shelled out $35 a piece for the NBL’s ‘premium’ seat package.
We arrive to an empty Vodafone Arena around 7pm and immediately locate the nearest bar. After Maureen, our bartender, explains the difference between beer available at NBL games and tennis events, we settle for Heineken draught and head for our seats. Thanks Maureen, you’re a doll. Here’s a gold coin for your troubles; we’ll be seein’ ya soon.
As we find our seats we realise two things, 1) booking ‘premium’ seats well in advance was completely unnecessary and 2) we’re sitting right behind the commentary table. Well, there is actually another row between us and the commentators but it’s empty. We spot Steve Carfino chatting up one of the corporate box waitresses; just like the Mr Magic of old, trying to score early on the road. We briefly discuss yelling out, “Think of the kids, Steve” before deciding to go grab another Heineken and some sort of hot-dog before tip-off.
(Eating…)
Mmm, fried onion.
(Eating…)
Shit, are they introducing the players?
(Still eating…)
Done. It’s a goddamn miracle I got that thing down without a single stain on my t-shirt.
1st Quarter
As Carfino and John Casey do their introduction, looking at their monitors we realise Big League Little League is having its first live-to-air broadcast. As I take a slug of Holland’s finest and try to get some screen time from behind the eclipse that is John Casey’s bulbous head, Mrs Watson is being presented smack-bang, front & centre to Fox Sports’ 35 remaining NBL viewers. These premium seats are paying for themselves.
The Dragons jump out to an early lead, with import Jabari Hendrix hitting back-to-back 3’s, both of which were followed with his “trademark” celebration, an air guitar solo, although to me it looked more like an ‘air-slap-bass’ solo. That’s the biggest exploitation of a surname since Nathan Ablett took 3 years of his father’s salary.
Young hot-shot Joe Ingles is quiet and we wonder why they are playing him at point guard when the unheralded, and under-used, Luke Martin is sitting on the bench. Man, even Heal would’ve seen that one.
During a time-out, the cheerleaders run into the crowd with some free gifts. We assume these to be Dragons merchandise, or candy-bars or something, until the MC informs us that they are in fact, frozen lasagnes; that’s right, the South Dragons are giving away frozen Italian dinners at their basketball games. And I don’t mean to be a snob, but that’s just awkward. I mean, what, am I supposed to hang on to this thing for the rest of the game? It’s the 1st freakin’ quarter! Man, they better be giving out microwaves in the 2nd.
Dragons end the first up by about 8. It’s Miller (Heineken) time!
2nd Quarter
The empty seats between us and Carfino are suddenly filled by the starting offensive line of the 1969 Cleveland Browns and I will spend the rest of the evening trying to watch the game between bulging shoulders and bald patches. Great.
Mrs Watson and I have an immediate and total disdain for Taipans point guard Steven Black, due to the fact that a) he’s the coach’s son, and b) he’s a complete and utter whinger. Joe Ingles is guarding him and seems to be playing him very physically, including cheap elbows whenever the chance presents itself. For this, we immediately warm to Ingles, who previously seemed like a bit of a douchebag.
Meanwhile, Jabari Hendrix, of the ‘air-slap-bass’ fame, has garnered Mrs Watson’s contempt, not only for his terrible celebrations, but for his lazy and uninspired play; “What is he doing? Get a rebound, Hendrix!”
We spot a few fans in Dragons merchandise and wonder how one gets oneself to the point of buying a Cortez Groves jersey and actually wearing it in public. Meanwhile, the real Cortez Groves seems to be a bit off, although he has a couple of nice drives in this quarter as the Dragons extend their lead to as much as 16.
Halftime
We decide to take it up a notch and trade in the Heinekens for scotch & coke. Carfino and Casey are digging into the catered party-pies, although Carfino seems to have some issue with the sausage rolls. As the mindless half-time drivel goes on, Mrs Watson notices something; “Is that that old Carlton player?” Indeed it is, Mrs W: That’s right, just when the night couldn’t get any stranger we discover that the South Dragons’ MC is none other than ex-Carlton defender Glenn Manton. This immediately leads to a game of “pick the cheer-leaders Glenn Manton has had sex with”.
3rd Quarter
The predicted Dragons collapse is right on cue. The Taipans come all the way back and take the lead, led by none other than Martin Cattalini. Just as I’m having vague memories of Cattalini scoring something like 51 points in a game last season, the announcer declares that this quarter is dedicated to the memory of Brett Wheeler. This throws me: Brett Wheeler is dead and Martin Cattalini is tearing up the NBL? Is it possible that Mrs Watson and I have travelled back in time? I remember that Iron Maiden is playing to a packed house no more than 500 yards from here and this all seems to make perfect sense.
Meanwhile, Jawai and Ingles, the supposed NBA prospects, have failed to impress either myself or Mrs Watson. “Where would he play in the NBA?” asks W of Ingles, “He can pas, but he’s too small for shooting guard and he can’t dribble well enough for point,” he says, almost confused. “He’s not exactly fast either,” I offer. “Has he got range?” Watson tries again, “Why are they scouting him again?” He has a point: Being a short, slow, unskilled white guy does not exactly translate well to the American version of the game. Despite this, we still like him for continually elbowing ‘Daddy’s boy’ Steven Black.
Jawai, on the other hand, has all the measurables but is being consistently out-rebounded by a guy called Jacob Holmes who looks ike he should be on Big Brother. Go figure.
4th Quarter
For those unaware, the South Dragons are one of the worst NBL teams, possibly of all time, and have just fired their coach and sometime player, the infamous Shane ‘The Hammer’ Heal. Part of the reason we originally booked these tickets was so we could watch Heal lose, question his every coaching move and just heckle him in general. You see, Heal was part of the last great Geelong Supercats team (when Geelong was still in the NBL) circa 1990. That team featured several Boomers and some of the best imports our shores have seen, but could never win a championship. For some reason we blame Heal for this, and for the consequent breaking up of that team. Although as Mrs Watson will tell anyone who will listen, Jim Bateman is largely to blame for the former. [It’s fucking true! That guy’s an asshole! – Mrs. Watson]
We imagine Geelong would be a different place if Heal stayed and brought the town a championship; it and for this we can never forgive him.
(Just how would Geelong be different? Some ideas included: “Shady nite-club HomeHouse would instead be a sports bar called Vince Hinchen’s House” and “John Dorge would open an outdoor furniture store called, John. Dorge. Out. Doors.”)
But with Heal no longer involved with the Dragons, Mrs Watson and I seem to lose our distaste for them and find ourselves barracking for the home team.
Cortez Groves finds his rhythm in the last quarter and hits three 3-pointers to get the Dragons back on top again. In the final minute, and with the Dragons nursing a 4 point lead, the ball is fumbled out around half-court before Groves recovers it. Realizing there are only seconds left on the shot clock, Groves casually drills a 35-footer. Game. This leads to a series of ‘Cortez the Killer’ calls, 15-minute air-guitar solos and a conversation about the potential outcome of a Neil Young/Jimi Hendrix game of one-on-one.
As the Dragon players throw out some team balls into the crowd, Jabari Hendrix rifles one right into an old man not 2 seats away from us. The poor fellow is blasted back into the sitting position and no-one seems to notice or care. I guess you can expect that in the “Premium” seats.
It’s Wednesday eve in fair Melbourne town and Mrs Watson and I are in search of entertainment. Luckily, there are options a plenty; The Socceroo’s are playing their Olympic qualifier at the Telstra Dome, The Vics are taking on the Queensland Bulls in a day-nighter at the MCG and Iron Maiden are plying their dark trade at Rod Laver Arena. So where do we go? Across the road to Vodafone arena for the NBL clash between the South Dragons and Cairns Taipans. Yep, that’s right, an NBL game. And I was good enough to keep a running diary for you.
Pre-Game
In all fairness, we did book these tickets a while ago, deciding an NBL game would be as close to time-travel as we’d ever get. We chose the Taipans primarily because of Nathan Jawai, who had been touted as a possible NBA prospect, and because they were in town on a Wednesday night, giving us the opportunity to drink mid-week. Armed with Mrs Watson’s credit card, we shelled out $35 a piece for the NBL’s ‘premium’ seat package.
We arrive to an empty Vodafone Arena around 7pm and immediately locate the nearest bar. After Maureen, our bartender, explains the difference between beer available at NBL games and tennis events, we settle for Heineken draught and head for our seats. Thanks Maureen, you’re a doll. Here’s a gold coin for your troubles; we’ll be seein’ ya soon.
As we find our seats we realise two things, 1) booking ‘premium’ seats well in advance was completely unnecessary and 2) we’re sitting right behind the commentary table. Well, there is actually another row between us and the commentators but it’s empty. We spot Steve Carfino chatting up one of the corporate box waitresses; just like the Mr Magic of old, trying to score early on the road. We briefly discuss yelling out, “Think of the kids, Steve” before deciding to go grab another Heineken and some sort of hot-dog before tip-off.
(Eating…)
Mmm, fried onion.
(Eating…)
Shit, are they introducing the players?
(Still eating…)
Done. It’s a goddamn miracle I got that thing down without a single stain on my t-shirt.
1st Quarter
As Carfino and John Casey do their introduction, looking at their monitors we realise Big League Little League is having its first live-to-air broadcast. As I take a slug of Holland’s finest and try to get some screen time from behind the eclipse that is John Casey’s bulbous head, Mrs Watson is being presented smack-bang, front & centre to Fox Sports’ 35 remaining NBL viewers. These premium seats are paying for themselves.
The Dragons jump out to an early lead, with import Jabari Hendrix hitting back-to-back 3’s, both of which were followed with his “trademark” celebration, an air guitar solo, although to me it looked more like an ‘air-slap-bass’ solo. That’s the biggest exploitation of a surname since Nathan Ablett took 3 years of his father’s salary.
Young hot-shot Joe Ingles is quiet and we wonder why they are playing him at point guard when the unheralded, and under-used, Luke Martin is sitting on the bench. Man, even Heal would’ve seen that one.
During a time-out, the cheerleaders run into the crowd with some free gifts. We assume these to be Dragons merchandise, or candy-bars or something, until the MC informs us that they are in fact, frozen lasagnes; that’s right, the South Dragons are giving away frozen Italian dinners at their basketball games. And I don’t mean to be a snob, but that’s just awkward. I mean, what, am I supposed to hang on to this thing for the rest of the game? It’s the 1st freakin’ quarter! Man, they better be giving out microwaves in the 2nd.
Dragons end the first up by about 8. It’s Miller (Heineken) time!
2nd Quarter
The empty seats between us and Carfino are suddenly filled by the starting offensive line of the 1969 Cleveland Browns and I will spend the rest of the evening trying to watch the game between bulging shoulders and bald patches. Great.
Mrs Watson and I have an immediate and total disdain for Taipans point guard Steven Black, due to the fact that a) he’s the coach’s son, and b) he’s a complete and utter whinger. Joe Ingles is guarding him and seems to be playing him very physically, including cheap elbows whenever the chance presents itself. For this, we immediately warm to Ingles, who previously seemed like a bit of a douchebag.
Meanwhile, Jabari Hendrix, of the ‘air-slap-bass’ fame, has garnered Mrs Watson’s contempt, not only for his terrible celebrations, but for his lazy and uninspired play; “What is he doing? Get a rebound, Hendrix!”
We spot a few fans in Dragons merchandise and wonder how one gets oneself to the point of buying a Cortez Groves jersey and actually wearing it in public. Meanwhile, the real Cortez Groves seems to be a bit off, although he has a couple of nice drives in this quarter as the Dragons extend their lead to as much as 16.
Halftime
We decide to take it up a notch and trade in the Heinekens for scotch & coke. Carfino and Casey are digging into the catered party-pies, although Carfino seems to have some issue with the sausage rolls. As the mindless half-time drivel goes on, Mrs Watson notices something; “Is that that old Carlton player?” Indeed it is, Mrs W: That’s right, just when the night couldn’t get any stranger we discover that the South Dragons’ MC is none other than ex-Carlton defender Glenn Manton. This immediately leads to a game of “pick the cheer-leaders Glenn Manton has had sex with”.
3rd Quarter
The predicted Dragons collapse is right on cue. The Taipans come all the way back and take the lead, led by none other than Martin Cattalini. Just as I’m having vague memories of Cattalini scoring something like 51 points in a game last season, the announcer declares that this quarter is dedicated to the memory of Brett Wheeler. This throws me: Brett Wheeler is dead and Martin Cattalini is tearing up the NBL? Is it possible that Mrs Watson and I have travelled back in time? I remember that Iron Maiden is playing to a packed house no more than 500 yards from here and this all seems to make perfect sense.
Meanwhile, Jawai and Ingles, the supposed NBA prospects, have failed to impress either myself or Mrs Watson. “Where would he play in the NBA?” asks W of Ingles, “He can pas, but he’s too small for shooting guard and he can’t dribble well enough for point,” he says, almost confused. “He’s not exactly fast either,” I offer. “Has he got range?” Watson tries again, “Why are they scouting him again?” He has a point: Being a short, slow, unskilled white guy does not exactly translate well to the American version of the game. Despite this, we still like him for continually elbowing ‘Daddy’s boy’ Steven Black.
Jawai, on the other hand, has all the measurables but is being consistently out-rebounded by a guy called Jacob Holmes who looks ike he should be on Big Brother. Go figure.
4th Quarter
For those unaware, the South Dragons are one of the worst NBL teams, possibly of all time, and have just fired their coach and sometime player, the infamous Shane ‘The Hammer’ Heal. Part of the reason we originally booked these tickets was so we could watch Heal lose, question his every coaching move and just heckle him in general. You see, Heal was part of the last great Geelong Supercats team (when Geelong was still in the NBL) circa 1990. That team featured several Boomers and some of the best imports our shores have seen, but could never win a championship. For some reason we blame Heal for this, and for the consequent breaking up of that team. Although as Mrs Watson will tell anyone who will listen, Jim Bateman is largely to blame for the former. [It’s fucking true! That guy’s an asshole! – Mrs. Watson]
We imagine Geelong would be a different place if Heal stayed and brought the town a championship; it and for this we can never forgive him.
(Just how would Geelong be different? Some ideas included: “Shady nite-club HomeHouse would instead be a sports bar called Vince Hinchen’s House” and “John Dorge would open an outdoor furniture store called, John. Dorge. Out. Doors.”)
But with Heal no longer involved with the Dragons, Mrs Watson and I seem to lose our distaste for them and find ourselves barracking for the home team.
Cortez Groves finds his rhythm in the last quarter and hits three 3-pointers to get the Dragons back on top again. In the final minute, and with the Dragons nursing a 4 point lead, the ball is fumbled out around half-court before Groves recovers it. Realizing there are only seconds left on the shot clock, Groves casually drills a 35-footer. Game. This leads to a series of ‘Cortez the Killer’ calls, 15-minute air-guitar solos and a conversation about the potential outcome of a Neil Young/Jimi Hendrix game of one-on-one.
As the Dragon players throw out some team balls into the crowd, Jabari Hendrix rifles one right into an old man not 2 seats away from us. The poor fellow is blasted back into the sitting position and no-one seems to notice or care. I guess you can expect that in the “Premium” seats.
posted by the captain at 11:36 pm
7 Comments:
Carfino still has a gig?
Sheesh
Of course Carfino still has a gig. Who do you think does all those 'LIVE On FOX SPORTS' voice overs.
The last time I read a Big League Little League blog that funny, Henry Playfair was in Geelong's best 22.
Gents, I definitely want to have a beer next time I am in Melbourne.
I actually went to an NBL game on the weekend. The last time I went to a Wildcats game, the starting forwards were Tiny Pinder and Paul Kuiper. I'd happily say i'll go again but I'm sure i'll take a sandwich with me.
I'm looking forward to a new season of Big League Little League
"That’s the biggest exploitation of a surname since Nathan Ablett took 3 years of his father’s salary."
" ....a conversation about the potential outcome of a Neil Young/Jimi Hendrix game of one-on-one."
Nice work Captain.
I reckon Tex might have an observation regarding the ‘air-slap-bass’ solo.
Brilliant stuff.
Not being 1 of the 37 people who still watch NBL on TV I was also shocked to hear that Mr Magic still does the basketball - it's the equivalent of switching on Friday night footy and hearing the dulcet tones of Drew Morphett.
On the topic of breakups of sporting teams, has there been a bigger decline in talent from 1 year to another than this:
1991 1992
Bobby Locke Bobby Locke
Shane Heal Wayne Larkins
Vince Hinchen Bruce Hultgren
Terry Dozier Cecil Exum
John Dorge Lafester Rhodes
That starting 5 from 91 was pretty good. Bobby Locke was a fair athlete. about 5" high (or so) & could dunk no problem...
Matt
"...about 5" high"
Reminds me of the Stonehenge debacle in This is Spinal Tap!
I know this is wildly off-topic, but can someone please explain to me why channel 9 no longer displays a batman's highest score when they give his career rundown? We get tests, runs, average and 100s, but no highest score. Since when did it become an irrelevant stat?
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