Thursday 30 April 2009
Wednesday 29 April 2009
BULLETIN - POST ROUND 5
Being no Superman aficionado, I am not sure of the effects of kryptonite on magnets, but if there is any kind of relationship at all, Lions coach Michael Voss should have tried harder to procure some. I’ve always loved the expression ‘ball magnet’. I like the imagery of it. And it suits Gary Ablett, shiny as he is.
Everyone loves a star. With another monstrous performance in the book, the Cats’ blushing victims and the congested pages of daily papers and the busy traffickers on blogs have all been out gazing. They are tracking him: Is he the best player of his generation? Is he as good as dad? Or better? Is he the best ever? Is injury the only thing that will stop him? Can he be cloned in Cyril Rioli? In 80 possessions and two weeks, he has become the benchmark.
While the devotees of ‘best ever’ are braying, little Gary diligently talks ‘team’ in his media commitments. He submits articles for his Monday entry in the Herald Sun on his awe at the freakishness of Joel Selwood. Selwood, in turn, talks ‘Ablett’ to ABC Grandstand’s mere mortals.
‘Team talk’ so often sounds like a script memorised by ‘the boys’ during the week: recovery, massage, weights, yoga, training, tapes, lines. ‘I went alright’ was Gary’s response to his 46 touches against Adelaide, before he quickly returned to the ‘t’ word.
It’s all very well for Ablett, G to turn the spotlight back onto Selwood, J and co. They are worthy of it. Selwood was drafted in 2006, debuted in 2007, has played 50 games for 46 wins and has a Premiership. He is 20 years old.
Since 2007, Joel Corey has played 55 games for 49 wins; Corey Enright has played 54 games for 48 wins; Jimmy Bartel has played 53 games for 48 wins; Cameron Ling has played 51 games for 46 wins; Steve Johnson has played 50 games for 47 wins; and on, and on, and on, and on, and on it goes.
But other teams are not so lucky. Other teams need more than the team plan, the structures and style, more than efficient role playing.
It’s something that has been playing on my mind since my pre-season training with novelist Richard Ford and The Sportswriter. I spent some time, on page 275, around the exact same question, as Ford’s central character, sportswriter Frank Bascombe, goes to Easter lunch with his girlfriend’s dysfunctional family in New Jersey and inadvertently strikes a debate over the team concept in American sport. I tucked away the following passage as part of my strategy for (over) thinking my way through Season 09.
I feel conflicted when I re-read this. Bred as a Blood, I have been taught to frown on individual heroics. In the context of the footy I have seen bring success, heroism is being unheroic. It was the champion team not the team of champions that won my Premiership. My Captain is King Kirk of Co-operation. But I always had my unpacked doubts. I get star struck too, you know. I have secretly suspected that, on any given day, I can be just as tickled by a hero - a shooting star - as I am by a succession of loyal team players.
How often, in the scramble of commentary, do you hear them say: ‘Someone needs to take this game by the scruff’; ‘Such and such team needs so and so to lift right now’; ‘Someone needs to win this off their own boot’?
And it’s flash when it happens, no doubt.
It happened last weekend, a weekend fenced off for heroes. I’m not going to bite at the debate around Anzac Day and games of footy, but however loosely the link was held in your mind over the weekend, it at least had Row U in the mental grandstand. Consider the heroics of the Bombers’ sudden ruckman, Ryder, who played all of four quarters and won himself some bling. Or (what is the noun for a baby Bomber?) David Zaharakis, who had been playing senior football for 21 days when he marked, with six seconds to go, and played on for a 50 metre goal to win his team the match. Bet he’s done that a few times in a game of backyard footy hero!
Compare that with poor old Pie, Josh Fraser – lampooned for apparently dodging the physicality of the ruck contest – the ultimate act of cowardice, the ultimate insult in football, especially (apparently) on Anzac Day. His vastly less experienced opponent picked up the medal for best exemplifying the Anzac spirit — skill, courage, self-sacrifice, teamwork and fair play. At least it’s not a medal for heroics.
In the case of the Bombers, if they had lost, if Lovett’s and Jetta’s, Ryder’s and Zaharakis’ acts of ‘heroism’ had fallen just short, we wouldn’t be calling them that. They would have been individual players’ attempts forgotten on the pile of ‘too little, too late.’ In a worst case scenario, they could even have been deviations from the team plan. In this case, the individuals’ decisions to win, have been accentuated by the team’s ultimate (and unexpected) success. If the Pies had won, Fraser’s non-brilliance could have been excused as a testament to an all round team contribution, Didak’s absence and Davis’ lack of form a good sign for the Pies who would see they could win without them. Instead it was a double case of the team plan being ignored AND the stars not stepping up.
The thing about even the brightest stars is, they twinkle. And the thing about twinkling is, the shine is intermittent. How often, in the wash up of a defeat, do you hear them say: ‘You’re only as good as your worst six players’; ‘Success rests with the rest.’ Ask Pavlich. Ask Richo. Pavlich is a 6 times All Australian and 5 times Best and Fairest. He has played 199 games over 10 seasons for only 4 finals. Richo has kicked 5+ goals in a match 56 times and has prowled the field as a Tiger for 17 seasons … for only 3 finals! Despite great individual efforts in the face of adversity, they have failed to convert their personal heroism into greater good.
A bright star needs a good constellation. I think they call it ‘depth’ in footy. The Blues have it, the Saints have it.
Which brings us back to Gary. All roads in the AFL will lead you back to Gary.
Gary blazes. He is the supergiant of constellation Cat. But still, some say that the biggest strengths of Ablett are Bartel, Selwood and Ling, the suggestion being that he wouldn't look as good as he looks without their efforts to protect him, to block for him, to bring him into the game. I’m sure Daniel Kerr would agree. I’m sure Brent Harvey would agree. I’m sure Chris Judd would agree. ‘He’s a super player’, said a post-match Michael Voss. ‘They do bring him into the game, but why wouldn't you? He keeps his feet. I said last week he's the best player in the competition. So you put the best player in the competition in the best team in the competition.’
And ain’t that Geelong’s strength. They eclipse the contrariety of team roles and individual heroics cause they can accommodate both. They don’t need Gary Ablett Jnr to be a hero. They can afford for him to be a hero. They are the team of champions in the champion team.
This week, the question has been asked again: Is Gary Ablett’s greatness accentuated by being part of the Geelong team or is Geelong’s brilliance accentuated by having Gary Ablett? Both. The answer is – both.
When sportswriter Frank Bascombe has finished his spiel on the team ethic, his girlfriend’s sports ignorant step mother says: ‘That’s everything in life right there, is my belief.’
And that’s why I’ll be there on Sunday, at the SCG, for my team of part-rusty cogs and maybe, just maybe, someone will decide to step out of line and be a hero. I’m not willing to give up on it yet.
Happy tipping!
Everyone loves a star. With another monstrous performance in the book, the Cats’ blushing victims and the congested pages of daily papers and the busy traffickers on blogs have all been out gazing. They are tracking him: Is he the best player of his generation? Is he as good as dad? Or better? Is he the best ever? Is injury the only thing that will stop him? Can he be cloned in Cyril Rioli? In 80 possessions and two weeks, he has become the benchmark.
While the devotees of ‘best ever’ are braying, little Gary diligently talks ‘team’ in his media commitments. He submits articles for his Monday entry in the Herald Sun on his awe at the freakishness of Joel Selwood. Selwood, in turn, talks ‘Ablett’ to ABC Grandstand’s mere mortals.
‘Team talk’ so often sounds like a script memorised by ‘the boys’ during the week: recovery, massage, weights, yoga, training, tapes, lines. ‘I went alright’ was Gary’s response to his 46 touches against Adelaide, before he quickly returned to the ‘t’ word.
It’s all very well for Ablett, G to turn the spotlight back onto Selwood, J and co. They are worthy of it. Selwood was drafted in 2006, debuted in 2007, has played 50 games for 46 wins and has a Premiership. He is 20 years old.
Since 2007, Joel Corey has played 55 games for 49 wins; Corey Enright has played 54 games for 48 wins; Jimmy Bartel has played 53 games for 48 wins; Cameron Ling has played 51 games for 46 wins; Steve Johnson has played 50 games for 47 wins; and on, and on, and on, and on, and on it goes.
But other teams are not so lucky. Other teams need more than the team plan, the structures and style, more than efficient role playing.
* * *
It’s something that has been playing on my mind since my pre-season training with novelist Richard Ford and The Sportswriter. I spent some time, on page 275, around the exact same question, as Ford’s central character, sportswriter Frank Bascombe, goes to Easter lunch with his girlfriend’s dysfunctional family in New Jersey and inadvertently strikes a debate over the team concept in American sport. I tucked away the following passage as part of my strategy for (over) thinking my way through Season 09.
‘If you talk to athletes and coaches the way I do, that’s all you hear. The line is, everyone has a role to play, and if anybody isn’t willing to play his role, then he doesn’t fit in to the team’s plans. Only the way these guys use team concept is too much like a machine to me. It leaves out the player’s part – to play or not to play; to play well or not so well. To give his all. What all these guys mean by team concept is just cogs in the machine. It forgets a guy has to decide to do it again every day, and that men don’t work like machines. We take too much for granted. What if I just don’t want to win that bad, or can’t?
A team is really intriguing to me. It’s an event not a thing. It’s time but not a watch. You can’t reduce it to mechanics and roles. The way the guys are talking about it now leaves out the whole idea of the hero, something I’m personally not willing to give up on yet.’
I feel conflicted when I re-read this. Bred as a Blood, I have been taught to frown on individual heroics. In the context of the footy I have seen bring success, heroism is being unheroic. It was the champion team not the team of champions that won my Premiership. My Captain is King Kirk of Co-operation. But I always had my unpacked doubts. I get star struck too, you know. I have secretly suspected that, on any given day, I can be just as tickled by a hero - a shooting star - as I am by a succession of loyal team players.
How often, in the scramble of commentary, do you hear them say: ‘Someone needs to take this game by the scruff’; ‘Such and such team needs so and so to lift right now’; ‘Someone needs to win this off their own boot’?
And it’s flash when it happens, no doubt.
It happened last weekend, a weekend fenced off for heroes. I’m not going to bite at the debate around Anzac Day and games of footy, but however loosely the link was held in your mind over the weekend, it at least had Row U in the mental grandstand. Consider the heroics of the Bombers’ sudden ruckman, Ryder, who played all of four quarters and won himself some bling. Or (what is the noun for a baby Bomber?) David Zaharakis, who had been playing senior football for 21 days when he marked, with six seconds to go, and played on for a 50 metre goal to win his team the match. Bet he’s done that a few times in a game of backyard footy hero!
Compare that with poor old Pie, Josh Fraser – lampooned for apparently dodging the physicality of the ruck contest – the ultimate act of cowardice, the ultimate insult in football, especially (apparently) on Anzac Day. His vastly less experienced opponent picked up the medal for best exemplifying the Anzac spirit — skill, courage, self-sacrifice, teamwork and fair play. At least it’s not a medal for heroics.
In the case of the Bombers, if they had lost, if Lovett’s and Jetta’s, Ryder’s and Zaharakis’ acts of ‘heroism’ had fallen just short, we wouldn’t be calling them that. They would have been individual players’ attempts forgotten on the pile of ‘too little, too late.’ In a worst case scenario, they could even have been deviations from the team plan. In this case, the individuals’ decisions to win, have been accentuated by the team’s ultimate (and unexpected) success. If the Pies had won, Fraser’s non-brilliance could have been excused as a testament to an all round team contribution, Didak’s absence and Davis’ lack of form a good sign for the Pies who would see they could win without them. Instead it was a double case of the team plan being ignored AND the stars not stepping up.
The thing about even the brightest stars is, they twinkle. And the thing about twinkling is, the shine is intermittent. How often, in the wash up of a defeat, do you hear them say: ‘You’re only as good as your worst six players’; ‘Success rests with the rest.’ Ask Pavlich. Ask Richo. Pavlich is a 6 times All Australian and 5 times Best and Fairest. He has played 199 games over 10 seasons for only 4 finals. Richo has kicked 5+ goals in a match 56 times and has prowled the field as a Tiger for 17 seasons … for only 3 finals! Despite great individual efforts in the face of adversity, they have failed to convert their personal heroism into greater good.
A bright star needs a good constellation. I think they call it ‘depth’ in footy. The Blues have it, the Saints have it.
Which brings us back to Gary. All roads in the AFL will lead you back to Gary.
Gary blazes. He is the supergiant of constellation Cat. But still, some say that the biggest strengths of Ablett are Bartel, Selwood and Ling, the suggestion being that he wouldn't look as good as he looks without their efforts to protect him, to block for him, to bring him into the game. I’m sure Daniel Kerr would agree. I’m sure Brent Harvey would agree. I’m sure Chris Judd would agree. ‘He’s a super player’, said a post-match Michael Voss. ‘They do bring him into the game, but why wouldn't you? He keeps his feet. I said last week he's the best player in the competition. So you put the best player in the competition in the best team in the competition.’
And ain’t that Geelong’s strength. They eclipse the contrariety of team roles and individual heroics cause they can accommodate both. They don’t need Gary Ablett Jnr to be a hero. They can afford for him to be a hero. They are the team of champions in the champion team.
This week, the question has been asked again: Is Gary Ablett’s greatness accentuated by being part of the Geelong team or is Geelong’s brilliance accentuated by having Gary Ablett? Both. The answer is – both.
* * *
When sportswriter Frank Bascombe has finished his spiel on the team ethic, his girlfriend’s sports ignorant step mother says: ‘That’s everything in life right there, is my belief.’
And that’s why I’ll be there on Sunday, at the SCG, for my team of part-rusty cogs and maybe, just maybe, someone will decide to step out of line and be a hero. I’m not willing to give up on it yet.
Happy tipping!
Wednesday 22 April 2009
BULLETIN - POST ROUND 4
For some weeks, I have been reminding myself to post the AFL Ladder at the end of each week, so you can stay on top of which team is where. This Monday past, I realised just how to do it - on the Official AFL Milk Chocolate Football we procured over the Easter weekend. The Eaglet has committed to shuffle it each week for you and it will be posted over on the right hand column. (We'll work on legibility!)
In other news ... Now I know I’m no Mrs Selwood, but on Saturday afternoon, I made the first of many small contributions towards nurturing the next generation of footy appreciation. Patrick and I took the Eaglet to the footy for the first ever Saturday afternoon game in Sydney, his second full game ever. Highlights: hot chips with tomato sauce + kick to kick. Look at that loose ball get, the composure, the kick! Hope Stuey Maxfield (Swans development) was watching!
As for the bulletin …
In one of his many self-defences this week, Terry Wallace remarked: ‘I could understand the supporters having 400 questions, as we (coaches) have 400 questions, because everyone looks to the senior coach for all the answers.’
Terry’s had a rotten week. So, in the spirit of ensuring Terry is right about SOMETHING, here are my 400 questions:
1. Why don’t I have a senior coach who will know the answers to any of my 400 questions?
2. Where can I find one?
3. Do I have to play ball to get one?
4. Does Terry Wallace still want us to judge the Tigers ‘after four rounds’?
5. Did some of Gary Ablett’s fellow elite midfielders feel like any of his 46 possessions were ‘theirs’?
6. Will patterns prevail and the Magpies lose the Anzac Day clash with their win/loss record now at L.W.L.W.?
7. Will the Eagles lose theirs, in Tasmania, and the Swans theirs, in the West, for the same pattern?
8. What about the Crows and Lions on W.L.W.L.?
9. Are the Lions headed for a win at the Cattery?
10. Does Michael Voss still like coaching now that both his ruckmen are gone for up to 6 weeks?
11. Did you know you can sponsor a Brisbane Lions player, just like a lion cub at the zoo?
12. Is Gary Ablett as absurdly modest as he appears or just very well drilled?
13. Is it possible that an AFL player would attend an on-field post match interview or a press conference and say ‘I want to be a star’?
14. Is that why (ex)Sydney’s Nick Davis is currently showing the American Football League how far he can kick a ball?
15. Will Omar ever support the Swans?
16. Why did he ask me to look up the Carlton club song on the internet before we headed out to the game on Saturday afternoon?
17. How long can he maintain the charade?
18. What’s the best way to handle his contrariness on this front?
19. Blatant bribery with promises of merchandise and fast food?
20. Or, like most other things with four year olds, ignore it?
21. How many drinks will be ok at the Sydney Swans Ladies’ Lunch?
22. Could I convince Myles Baron Hay to permanently adopt last week’s heritage sash Guernsey? Those boys looked ‘fly’!
23. Can Western Sydney truly go ahead?
24. Can you bet on it at Sportsbet?
25. Should I put a cool $100 on it failing?
26. Has Terry Wallace invested his $900 stimulus wisely?
27. How can Catherine T, who could not even tell you what a ruck contest is, be so far up the tipping ladder?
28. Could I get a gig as a boundary rider?
29. Would a greasy breakfast in Launceston this weekend help the Hawks’ Premiership hangover?
30. Should Richmond cancel their Home Hardware Player of the Year competition?
31. Is there ANYTHING that would stop the Bloods getting a win for Captain Kirk’s 200th game?
32. Did any of the Swans supporters notice that the question about the Swans #31 was coincidentally in the question 31 position?
33. How many boys, like cygnet Kristin Thornton, have kicked a goal with their first kick in League footy?
34. Have the North Melbourne players found themselves a new motivational mascot yet?
35. What is Saint Justin Koschitzke’s record number of consecutive games without injury?
36. ‘Unless he is struck down by some mystery virus, Terry will be coaching on Saturday night.’ said Tigers President, Gary March, during the week. What virus could the Tigers’ board inflict on Terry Wallace by Saturday night?
37. ‘Belief comes to its crescendo when wins become continual.’ - Is Demons coach Dean Bailey enlightened?
38. Has he written a book of maxims?
39. Haikus?
40. How is Andrew Demetriou going with Israel Folau’s management?
41. Could my bulletinesque faith in Brent Harvey have had anything to do with his 33 disposals last weekend?
42. After the win at the SCG on Saturday, is my Lucky Tony Lockett’s power restricted to home games?
43. Should I bother wearing it through a telecast?
44. How do you clean brass?
45. Or is it copper?
46. Will Chris Judd be unofficially sanctioned after his Monday evening comments on ‘One Week at a Time’ about not being keen to go to the Gold Coast or Western Sydney to play?
47. Should we be watching the free kicks against the Carlton skipper this weekend?
48. Why did I have to listen to him speak?
49. Aren’t some people just far more attractive before you hear their voices?
50. What is the collective noun for Demons?
51. And Dockers?
52. Which club would Matthew Pavlich go to when, sorry if, he jumps ship?
53. Will it finally be Sharolyn’s year?
54. Will all the tipsters be paid up by Round 6?
55. Am I just as bad as Fraser Gehrig?
56. Tony Lockett?
57. Have I tipped one season too long?
58. Who will Mr and Mrs Selwood barrack for at Skilled Stadium this weekend – Joel or Troy?
59. Has Terry Wallace been cutting letters out of newspaper headlines, arranging and gluing them and sending them to Dennis Pagan?
60. Has Mark Harvey written Terry Wallace a sympathy card?
61. Has Mark Harvey written Terry Wallace a Thank You card?
62. Will Travis still talk to me after the beat up I’ve been giving the Dockers?
63. What do the umps listen to on their ipods before a game?
64. The Collingwood theme song?
65. How many grounds will fly the footies in by helicopter this Anzac Day weekend?
66. Has anyone else noticed that the Footy Record’s official AFL fixture uses (D) for Docklands to describe my favourite - Etihad Stadium?
67. Does anyone else ever look at the official AFL fixture during the week?
68. Do players get to chose which colour Powerade they drink after the game?
69. What could Terry ‘the fox’ ‘the plough’ Wallace do after coaching?
70. Tiger taming?
71. Did Richard, George (and family) make it off Lord Howe Island before the winds came?
72. Has Terry Wallace considered retirement on Lord Howe Island?
73. Has Dennis Cometti thought of the ‘loading zone’ pun yet?
74. Can’t the umpires understand that a little reckless contact from players is considered desirable by at least half of the footy watching public?
75. Would anyone take me seriously if I said I wanted MY nickname to be ‘Razzle’ like Brisbane’s Bradd Dalziell?
76. And what’s with the double ‘d’ in Bradd?
77. Will anyone go with me on an emotional win for the Blues this weekend, with their President on his last gasps?
78. Is everyone aware that Rebel Sports is giving away a free Tigers Bronze Membership to the first 200 customers who buy a Richmond Guernsey?
79. Is that the first step of the plan for the massive surplus of jumpers Punt Rd stitched together in the pre-season?
80. How many have the number 32 on them?
81. What is the significance of whether Gary Ablett Jnr is as good as Gary Ablett Snr?
82. Is chemotherapy Gary Ablett Jnr’s secret weapon?
83. Does Michael Voss really have access to kryptonite?
84. What are Terry’s 400 questions?
85. Is it true that the more you know the less you know?
86. Is that why I have more questions than answers?
87. Terry, can you help me?
Hmm. It looks like Terry has wildly overestimated another thing, ‘cause I don’t have 400 questions.
Happy tipping!
In other news ... Now I know I’m no Mrs Selwood, but on Saturday afternoon, I made the first of many small contributions towards nurturing the next generation of footy appreciation. Patrick and I took the Eaglet to the footy for the first ever Saturday afternoon game in Sydney, his second full game ever. Highlights: hot chips with tomato sauce + kick to kick. Look at that loose ball get, the composure, the kick! Hope Stuey Maxfield (Swans development) was watching!
As for the bulletin …
In one of his many self-defences this week, Terry Wallace remarked: ‘I could understand the supporters having 400 questions, as we (coaches) have 400 questions, because everyone looks to the senior coach for all the answers.’
Terry’s had a rotten week. So, in the spirit of ensuring Terry is right about SOMETHING, here are my 400 questions:
1. Why don’t I have a senior coach who will know the answers to any of my 400 questions?
2. Where can I find one?
3. Do I have to play ball to get one?
4. Does Terry Wallace still want us to judge the Tigers ‘after four rounds’?
5. Did some of Gary Ablett’s fellow elite midfielders feel like any of his 46 possessions were ‘theirs’?
6. Will patterns prevail and the Magpies lose the Anzac Day clash with their win/loss record now at L.W.L.W.?
7. Will the Eagles lose theirs, in Tasmania, and the Swans theirs, in the West, for the same pattern?
8. What about the Crows and Lions on W.L.W.L.?
9. Are the Lions headed for a win at the Cattery?
10. Does Michael Voss still like coaching now that both his ruckmen are gone for up to 6 weeks?
11. Did you know you can sponsor a Brisbane Lions player, just like a lion cub at the zoo?
12. Is Gary Ablett as absurdly modest as he appears or just very well drilled?
13. Is it possible that an AFL player would attend an on-field post match interview or a press conference and say ‘I want to be a star’?
14. Is that why (ex)Sydney’s Nick Davis is currently showing the American Football League how far he can kick a ball?
15. Will Omar ever support the Swans?
16. Why did he ask me to look up the Carlton club song on the internet before we headed out to the game on Saturday afternoon?
17. How long can he maintain the charade?
18. What’s the best way to handle his contrariness on this front?
19. Blatant bribery with promises of merchandise and fast food?
20. Or, like most other things with four year olds, ignore it?
21. How many drinks will be ok at the Sydney Swans Ladies’ Lunch?
22. Could I convince Myles Baron Hay to permanently adopt last week’s heritage sash Guernsey? Those boys looked ‘fly’!
23. Can Western Sydney truly go ahead?
24. Can you bet on it at Sportsbet?
25. Should I put a cool $100 on it failing?
26. Has Terry Wallace invested his $900 stimulus wisely?
27. How can Catherine T, who could not even tell you what a ruck contest is, be so far up the tipping ladder?
28. Could I get a gig as a boundary rider?
29. Would a greasy breakfast in Launceston this weekend help the Hawks’ Premiership hangover?
30. Should Richmond cancel their Home Hardware Player of the Year competition?
31. Is there ANYTHING that would stop the Bloods getting a win for Captain Kirk’s 200th game?
32. Did any of the Swans supporters notice that the question about the Swans #31 was coincidentally in the question 31 position?
33. How many boys, like cygnet Kristin Thornton, have kicked a goal with their first kick in League footy?
34. Have the North Melbourne players found themselves a new motivational mascot yet?
35. What is Saint Justin Koschitzke’s record number of consecutive games without injury?
36. ‘Unless he is struck down by some mystery virus, Terry will be coaching on Saturday night.’ said Tigers President, Gary March, during the week. What virus could the Tigers’ board inflict on Terry Wallace by Saturday night?
37. ‘Belief comes to its crescendo when wins become continual.’ - Is Demons coach Dean Bailey enlightened?
38. Has he written a book of maxims?
39. Haikus?
40. How is Andrew Demetriou going with Israel Folau’s management?
41. Could my bulletinesque faith in Brent Harvey have had anything to do with his 33 disposals last weekend?
42. After the win at the SCG on Saturday, is my Lucky Tony Lockett’s power restricted to home games?
43. Should I bother wearing it through a telecast?
44. How do you clean brass?
45. Or is it copper?
46. Will Chris Judd be unofficially sanctioned after his Monday evening comments on ‘One Week at a Time’ about not being keen to go to the Gold Coast or Western Sydney to play?
47. Should we be watching the free kicks against the Carlton skipper this weekend?
48. Why did I have to listen to him speak?
49. Aren’t some people just far more attractive before you hear their voices?
50. What is the collective noun for Demons?
51. And Dockers?
52. Which club would Matthew Pavlich go to when, sorry if, he jumps ship?
53. Will it finally be Sharolyn’s year?
54. Will all the tipsters be paid up by Round 6?
55. Am I just as bad as Fraser Gehrig?
56. Tony Lockett?
57. Have I tipped one season too long?
58. Who will Mr and Mrs Selwood barrack for at Skilled Stadium this weekend – Joel or Troy?
59. Has Terry Wallace been cutting letters out of newspaper headlines, arranging and gluing them and sending them to Dennis Pagan?
60. Has Mark Harvey written Terry Wallace a sympathy card?
61. Has Mark Harvey written Terry Wallace a Thank You card?
62. Will Travis still talk to me after the beat up I’ve been giving the Dockers?
63. What do the umps listen to on their ipods before a game?
64. The Collingwood theme song?
65. How many grounds will fly the footies in by helicopter this Anzac Day weekend?
66. Has anyone else noticed that the Footy Record’s official AFL fixture uses (D) for Docklands to describe my favourite - Etihad Stadium?
67. Does anyone else ever look at the official AFL fixture during the week?
68. Do players get to chose which colour Powerade they drink after the game?
69. What could Terry ‘the fox’ ‘the plough’ Wallace do after coaching?
70. Tiger taming?
71. Did Richard, George (and family) make it off Lord Howe Island before the winds came?
72. Has Terry Wallace considered retirement on Lord Howe Island?
73. Has Dennis Cometti thought of the ‘loading zone’ pun yet?
74. Can’t the umpires understand that a little reckless contact from players is considered desirable by at least half of the footy watching public?
75. Would anyone take me seriously if I said I wanted MY nickname to be ‘Razzle’ like Brisbane’s Bradd Dalziell?
76. And what’s with the double ‘d’ in Bradd?
77. Will anyone go with me on an emotional win for the Blues this weekend, with their President on his last gasps?
78. Is everyone aware that Rebel Sports is giving away a free Tigers Bronze Membership to the first 200 customers who buy a Richmond Guernsey?
79. Is that the first step of the plan for the massive surplus of jumpers Punt Rd stitched together in the pre-season?
80. How many have the number 32 on them?
81. What is the significance of whether Gary Ablett Jnr is as good as Gary Ablett Snr?
82. Is chemotherapy Gary Ablett Jnr’s secret weapon?
83. Does Michael Voss really have access to kryptonite?
84. What are Terry’s 400 questions?
85. Is it true that the more you know the less you know?
86. Is that why I have more questions than answers?
87. Terry, can you help me?
Hmm. It looks like Terry has wildly overestimated another thing, ‘cause I don’t have 400 questions.
Happy tipping!
Wednesday 15 April 2009
BULLETIN - POST ROUND 3
After the debacle of Round 2, I faced Round 3 with a greater sense of the way I play the game.
I settled in for the Thursday afternoon tipping with Omar. He read me the fixture as I lay sprawled across our living room floor. Thursday night: Geelong v the Magpies. He, emphatic as usual, picked the Pies straight away while I ‘umed’ and ‘aahed’. After some patience with this hesitation, Omar put a hand up to the coin box on the almost unreachable mantelpiece and told me that heads was Geelong and tails was Collingwood. I nodded. He flipped. Tails. The Pies it was.
This is what has become of my tipping. I am lacking intensity around the fixture. I am relying too heavily on my team-mates. My work rate is down.
And I paid. The Magpies lost after leading by twenty something points at quarter time.
Discouraged, I packed the car with our Easter belongings, on a quiet and good Friday morning, and we headed off, down the Princes Highway.
The three best ways I know, to deal with a problem, are: a scalding hot shower, a washing up session or a road trip – whichever is most closely at hand. Road trip it was.
There was many a mile available for contemplation as Patrick took the wheel and the Eaglet piped out a positive bit of Justine Clarke ‘making the garden grow’ in the background. How would I re-grow my already precarious season? On a weekend when a bunny would be hiding plenty of goodies, I kept my eyes open for clues - things to look out for, things of note, roads to follow.
By Round 3, results are no longer a simple fork in the road. Every team, every tipster, has taken at least two steps down the road they’ve chosen, followed or wandered inadvertently down. And it looked like I was heading down the road that was on the wrong side of the ratio. How would I turn it around?
As we wound south, down the backside of Mt Ousley (or Mount Muesli as the Eaglet calls it ) towards the one strip wonder of Albion Park Rail, a possible clue appeared, dark and fleeting overhead, but I caught it just in time.
Harvey? Of course. Brent Harvey.
Roo Brent Harvey’s numbers have been down. He’s averaging just 17 possessions compared to his usual 30. There have been questions about whether the leadership challenges have affected his personal performances. Sounds like me! My numbers are well down, there are questions over whether my leadership role is affecting my performance, whether those around me are doing enough to help me escape tight tags, whether I am doing enough to escape the chasers myself. What a perilous proposition – being compared to Brent Harvey! – the smallest man in the most un-charismatic team in the competition. He stands at 172cm! Shit, so do I!
But perhaps he could provide the clues. He was heading into Round 3 on the back of a public scandal, at the helm of a ship that had nearly been sunk, leading a mob of ‘chicken hungry’ Roos on a quest for redemption. North was 1 win, 1 loss – at the crossroads. I had picked them for a Round 3 win. Those who have tipped with me before know that I am susceptible to the potential ‘emotional win’. I felt sure that those Shinboners would fight hard to restore a little pride after their semanus horribilis. They would justify the tens of thousands of dollars they had cost the club, defend the humiliation of a week of shame-faced press conferences. Sometimes you just need something to get your season going and then … it’s off! Yep, Harvey was to be my exemplar.
By the time I had come to terms with the parallelism, we were making the right hand turn off the Princes Highway. Trip over. Problem solved.
* * *
On Sunday afternoon, with the sting of chocolate in my back molars, the sting of the Swans’ apathy in the back of my mind and the Eaglet off meandering at Bomaderry Creek with Patrick, I settled in for four quarters with my notebook in hand.
Plenty of mention of Little Boris, even a ‘2 Bad Eggs’ sign behind the goalposts. Great. Extra fuel for my man Harvey’s men.
It was the Hawks who came out firing. Hodge and Mitchell zig zagged their way up and down the greens of Etihad like pinballs at the hands of a madman. Stuey Dew thundered in front of goal. Handballs arced effortlessly through a midfield that didn’t know how to stand still. Buddy and Roughy split the forward 50 in two and patrolled it with almost shameful ease. And where were those proud Roos, those amending Shinboners? Where was all that incentive? Splayed all over their half forward line, dropped at the feet of small forwards who had no chance, sandwiched in friendly fire that had them down a man, teetering on the toes of men who could not look each other in the eyes and raise a fist, tagged on the boot heels of my man Harvey! Little Boris had done them no favours. And, by the end of the evening, I was on 2 out of 7.
So, my very own obscene YouTube launch was now out of the equation. I would have to turn to other means. Other men would need to lead me to where resurrectionists tread. I would need to trade my man Harvey for a man who managed a real rise from slump – a Mitchell, fighting back from a night with Kirk or a Lloyd – booting 5 on the eve of his 31st birthday when almost all had him too old … again. Or I could turn to one of those connoisseurs of a three-pronged Round 3 failure rate – The Demons’ Bailey or the Tigers’ Wallace or … Harvey. Oh! It was suddenly clear. I had the wrong Harvey. Not Brent! Mark. Dockers coach, Mark Harvey.
This is the language the players use over at Freo. They talk about raising the bar, demanding excellence of themselves, lifting their expectations. And this is what the coach says: ‘We couldn't stay composed in our decision-making, either when we were going inside the forward 50 or just in general play. When we've got the ball, we're not doing enough. We're not hurting the opposition when we should be, and then when we do turn the ball over, we're getting punished quickly.’
Well, that’s hardly inspiring. But could it work for me? Could a bit of public scrutiny, a talking down to by the coach be just the ticket for my turnaround. It worked for Sam Mitchell. It worked for Matthew Lloyd. Can anyone give me a hand with that?
My only other options are a long rest on the laurels of a false buoyancy, Guru Bailey style: ‘The thing that I can say about our players is that they are committed to improvement. I hope they get some reward for their effort. I can see it coming … (there’s) the patience element … you can only develop them at certain speed. Too quickly you actually miss the journey. That's what we have to be careful of.’ I don’t want to miss my journey, man.
Or, I can rely on an inevitable swing of fortune … if you wait long, long, long enough, Tigers style. As the captain spells it out: "I guess everyone should just take a bit of a deep breath, and realise that we're only three rounds in. Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves’. I’d certainly like to get ahead of myself, like the other 22 people are! And Cuz said it had to start this week. Hmm. Mixed messages.
* * *
The trip home gave no clarity. Just a lot of fog and rain so heavy we couldn’t see metres in front of us. What was that scene in Little Boris, where the chook (apparently) ended up as road kill?
There are no guarantees on form, on our ability to get ourselves going again, when the stocks are truly down. Sometimes it seems that there isn’t a thing you can do about it. No jargon, no turning point, no promise, no hope, no long glance in the mirror, no drawing board or scare or gauntlet thrown down will bounce you back up to where you want to belong. Sometimes, just like the Easter Monday traffic, you have to sit in it until it moves and find something to watch while you do. Richmond v Melbourne should be good.
* * *
The backpocket’s reigning champion, Peter, graciously reminded me this morning, from the airy, expansive viewpoint of his top rung on the ladder: ‘You cannot win it from here, but you can lose it from here’.
In fact, it seems you CAN win it from 0-3 down. And which was the last team to win the Premiership after losing the first three games of the season? It was 1975. It was the Kangaroos.
Happy tipping!
I settled in for the Thursday afternoon tipping with Omar. He read me the fixture as I lay sprawled across our living room floor. Thursday night: Geelong v the Magpies. He, emphatic as usual, picked the Pies straight away while I ‘umed’ and ‘aahed’. After some patience with this hesitation, Omar put a hand up to the coin box on the almost unreachable mantelpiece and told me that heads was Geelong and tails was Collingwood. I nodded. He flipped. Tails. The Pies it was.
This is what has become of my tipping. I am lacking intensity around the fixture. I am relying too heavily on my team-mates. My work rate is down.
And I paid. The Magpies lost after leading by twenty something points at quarter time.
Discouraged, I packed the car with our Easter belongings, on a quiet and good Friday morning, and we headed off, down the Princes Highway.
The three best ways I know, to deal with a problem, are: a scalding hot shower, a washing up session or a road trip – whichever is most closely at hand. Road trip it was.
There was many a mile available for contemplation as Patrick took the wheel and the Eaglet piped out a positive bit of Justine Clarke ‘making the garden grow’ in the background. How would I re-grow my already precarious season? On a weekend when a bunny would be hiding plenty of goodies, I kept my eyes open for clues - things to look out for, things of note, roads to follow.
By Round 3, results are no longer a simple fork in the road. Every team, every tipster, has taken at least two steps down the road they’ve chosen, followed or wandered inadvertently down. And it looked like I was heading down the road that was on the wrong side of the ratio. How would I turn it around?
As we wound south, down the backside of Mt Ousley (or Mount Muesli as the Eaglet calls it ) towards the one strip wonder of Albion Park Rail, a possible clue appeared, dark and fleeting overhead, but I caught it just in time.
Harvey? Of course. Brent Harvey.
Roo Brent Harvey’s numbers have been down. He’s averaging just 17 possessions compared to his usual 30. There have been questions about whether the leadership challenges have affected his personal performances. Sounds like me! My numbers are well down, there are questions over whether my leadership role is affecting my performance, whether those around me are doing enough to help me escape tight tags, whether I am doing enough to escape the chasers myself. What a perilous proposition – being compared to Brent Harvey! – the smallest man in the most un-charismatic team in the competition. He stands at 172cm! Shit, so do I!
But perhaps he could provide the clues. He was heading into Round 3 on the back of a public scandal, at the helm of a ship that had nearly been sunk, leading a mob of ‘chicken hungry’ Roos on a quest for redemption. North was 1 win, 1 loss – at the crossroads. I had picked them for a Round 3 win. Those who have tipped with me before know that I am susceptible to the potential ‘emotional win’. I felt sure that those Shinboners would fight hard to restore a little pride after their semanus horribilis. They would justify the tens of thousands of dollars they had cost the club, defend the humiliation of a week of shame-faced press conferences. Sometimes you just need something to get your season going and then … it’s off! Yep, Harvey was to be my exemplar.
By the time I had come to terms with the parallelism, we were making the right hand turn off the Princes Highway. Trip over. Problem solved.
* * *
On Sunday afternoon, with the sting of chocolate in my back molars, the sting of the Swans’ apathy in the back of my mind and the Eaglet off meandering at Bomaderry Creek with Patrick, I settled in for four quarters with my notebook in hand.
Plenty of mention of Little Boris, even a ‘2 Bad Eggs’ sign behind the goalposts. Great. Extra fuel for my man Harvey’s men.
It was the Hawks who came out firing. Hodge and Mitchell zig zagged their way up and down the greens of Etihad like pinballs at the hands of a madman. Stuey Dew thundered in front of goal. Handballs arced effortlessly through a midfield that didn’t know how to stand still. Buddy and Roughy split the forward 50 in two and patrolled it with almost shameful ease. And where were those proud Roos, those amending Shinboners? Where was all that incentive? Splayed all over their half forward line, dropped at the feet of small forwards who had no chance, sandwiched in friendly fire that had them down a man, teetering on the toes of men who could not look each other in the eyes and raise a fist, tagged on the boot heels of my man Harvey! Little Boris had done them no favours. And, by the end of the evening, I was on 2 out of 7.
So, my very own obscene YouTube launch was now out of the equation. I would have to turn to other means. Other men would need to lead me to where resurrectionists tread. I would need to trade my man Harvey for a man who managed a real rise from slump – a Mitchell, fighting back from a night with Kirk or a Lloyd – booting 5 on the eve of his 31st birthday when almost all had him too old … again. Or I could turn to one of those connoisseurs of a three-pronged Round 3 failure rate – The Demons’ Bailey or the Tigers’ Wallace or … Harvey. Oh! It was suddenly clear. I had the wrong Harvey. Not Brent! Mark. Dockers coach, Mark Harvey.
This is the language the players use over at Freo. They talk about raising the bar, demanding excellence of themselves, lifting their expectations. And this is what the coach says: ‘We couldn't stay composed in our decision-making, either when we were going inside the forward 50 or just in general play. When we've got the ball, we're not doing enough. We're not hurting the opposition when we should be, and then when we do turn the ball over, we're getting punished quickly.’
Well, that’s hardly inspiring. But could it work for me? Could a bit of public scrutiny, a talking down to by the coach be just the ticket for my turnaround. It worked for Sam Mitchell. It worked for Matthew Lloyd. Can anyone give me a hand with that?
My only other options are a long rest on the laurels of a false buoyancy, Guru Bailey style: ‘The thing that I can say about our players is that they are committed to improvement. I hope they get some reward for their effort. I can see it coming … (there’s) the patience element … you can only develop them at certain speed. Too quickly you actually miss the journey. That's what we have to be careful of.’ I don’t want to miss my journey, man.
Or, I can rely on an inevitable swing of fortune … if you wait long, long, long enough, Tigers style. As the captain spells it out: "I guess everyone should just take a bit of a deep breath, and realise that we're only three rounds in. Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves’. I’d certainly like to get ahead of myself, like the other 22 people are! And Cuz said it had to start this week. Hmm. Mixed messages.
* * *
The trip home gave no clarity. Just a lot of fog and rain so heavy we couldn’t see metres in front of us. What was that scene in Little Boris, where the chook (apparently) ended up as road kill?
There are no guarantees on form, on our ability to get ourselves going again, when the stocks are truly down. Sometimes it seems that there isn’t a thing you can do about it. No jargon, no turning point, no promise, no hope, no long glance in the mirror, no drawing board or scare or gauntlet thrown down will bounce you back up to where you want to belong. Sometimes, just like the Easter Monday traffic, you have to sit in it until it moves and find something to watch while you do. Richmond v Melbourne should be good.
* * *
The backpocket’s reigning champion, Peter, graciously reminded me this morning, from the airy, expansive viewpoint of his top rung on the ladder: ‘You cannot win it from here, but you can lose it from here’.
In fact, it seems you CAN win it from 0-3 down. And which was the last team to win the Premiership after losing the first three games of the season? It was 1975. It was the Kangaroos.
Happy tipping!
Wednesday 8 April 2009
BULLETIN - POST ROUND 2
It takes effort to refashion ourselves.
When you get a new haircut or you start to wear skirts when you’ve always worn pants, make-up when you’ve always gone ‘au naturel’ … people get unsettled. They are generally uncomfortable with small scale adjustments. They fear them as tremors for greater quakes to come.
This week, I tipped against my team for the first time ever. (Well, I employed Travis to tip against my team on my behalf.)
Now, I know that those of you who have been around a number of years will argue that this is no small scale matter, because I have often beat my bulletin drum for the rewards of loyalty, the significance of tribalism and have many-a-time guilted ‘deserters’. So the backlash received was not unanticipated. I was accused of deserting, of succumbing to greed, of being ‘contaminated’. My choice was described as ‘an act of extreme disloyalty’ and ‘reprehensible’. I was even called ‘traitor Thilde’ … in 48 point, red, bold oblique type.
So, let me explain. Here was my thinking.
I am at a point in my tipping career, where I need to make a change. My current approach is not working. The most obvious thing that needed addressing was whether I could afford to continue blindly tipping the Swans.
For the past two pre-seasons, Swans supporters have been cautioned to steel themselves for bad years ahead. Last year’s unexpected effort only made this year seem more ominous. As I came into this season, with my team supposedly ‘transitioning’, I found myself faced with the dilemma of how to behave. I have become accustomed to success, to easy faith. The extravagant fruits of consecutive finals experiences and Premiership glory, have left me unable to remember what it is like on struggle street, how one should hold oneself, what to wear to be best protected, how to play best defence.
This year, I decided I had better put in my own pre-season. Part of the training was to read American writer Richard Ford’s trilogy of novels which begins with The Sportswriter. On page 59, the character, Frank, a sportswriter, observes: ‘Years of athletic training teach this; the necessity of relinquishing doubt and ambiguity and self-inquiry in favour of a pleasant, self-championing one-dimensionality which has instant rewards in sport.’
So when I looked at the fixture in Round 2 and saw my boys were coming up against the Premiers, the Twin Towers, the Zone – I saw it as a bright opportunity to put some of my pre-season work into action. Even the coach and the club were tipping Buddy to sell the fixture!
Before I handed the baton to Travis, knowing he would pick the Hawks for me, I asked myself the big questions?
What, in the world of footy, is the nature of loyalty?
Is loyalty believing that your team will always win? Or is loyalty knowing they will sometimes (or often) lose but standing by them nonetheless? Or is loyalty, not worrying about whether they will or won’t win and just being there? Aren’t these all versions of ‘tipping your team’, no matter what?
‘Perhaps I should just tip the Swans,’ I hesitated.
But if I go to the match on Saturday night, I’ll be there, right? – a loyal club member, just like it says on the back of my cap. We all know that I am vulnerable to footy team ‘affairs’ … but as far as the long term goes, I’m just like Buddy – I am a one club girl. I did not cancel my membership this year, though there was plenty of incentive; I go to Homebush by train; I have fridge magnets; I knit red and white scarves for the O’Reilly boys; I continue to try to convert the next generation. No one can question my loyalty to my team. Or can they? Will they? Do your club loyalties and tipping loyalties need to be aligned? Does it make a difference if I go to Saturday night’s match suspecting they will lose, having tipped them to lose?
Is desertion a condition of the mind or the body or both? If you have left someone in your mind, have you already left them? Or are you still with them so long as you are physically there? Is your presence itself the belief that you will return in mind as well?
From the eye of this storm of doubt and hesitation, I reached out my finger and hit ‘send’ on the email request to Travis. Back came the reply: ‘Hawks. Good luck though.’ Just like that.
The Swans were never supposed to win. I outlined to Toby, on the train to Olympic Park, my preparations for the after effects of my decision in the context of a Hawthorn victory. Tipping against the Swans was never going to be a change of heart on the position of contra-team tipping (or CCT). I was not about to turn my spots into stripes and decree that a life of tipping treachery is finally for me. I simply wanted to try it on, see what it feels like, wander around in the shoes of the self-serving opportunist – not for a win, not for the points, not for the money – for the experience of seeing if I could be someone who lived life in this way week-to-week, if I could be self-championing rather than team loyal, one-dimensional instead of muddled by ambiguity, to see if the hat would suit me, if it would help me keep warm this winter.
Once the Hawks had won, I would be vindicated but feel no better. I would accept the success of the experiment, lament the success of the experiment, remove the gold lamé jacket of self-serving one dimensionality and hop back into the tracksuit pants of loyalty. No one would remember what I had done, least of all me. My night of dressing dangerously would be swallowed by the slow, chilly, ticking days of a long winter.
But, the Swans won … which left my CCT standing naked, out in the cold.
I spent the night wondering what would become of me. Could – would – my fellow tipsters ever accept my Round 2 tips as a meagre dalliance, a flirtation with the other side? Or would it be a long lasting black mark? Was my credibility shot or could I still recover? How would I get back to being me? Would it be time on the bench, time with the comp psychologist or time with Danny Green in my local area? Would it be punishment and the talk show circuit or Mallorca in a wheelchair?
By morning, I was receiving messages of condolence (I think it was condolence?). ‘Poor Thilde’ they cried. But I felt so good about the win. ‘Bet you regret that tip!’ they jeered. Yes, I did. I felt sheepish at what I had done. But it did not prevent the joys of victory - Goodesy’s hanger that sparked the Swans, the ruck domination, the accuracy on goal, the recovered run off half back, the clean skills, the cold beer in plastic cups, a visit in the stands from Bernie, a raw, sore throat from cheering, a rolled up record, tattered from being belted into the palm of my hand and three choruses of ‘Cheer, cheer’. ‘Yes, but it’s tinged’, they commiserated. And, if I am honest, it was. I’d like to say it wasn’t, that I can quarantine my footy pleasure from my tipping. But, if I am honest, I can’t.
Footy and tipping are so different – one is about the team, the other about the individual. Footy is about observation and participation, tipping is about judgement and competition. Can you ever fulfil the ontological aims of both activities at once – to support your team at the footy and to tip as many correct teams as you can? To be true to both is surely to wear two hats at once.
Self-championing one-dimensionality may have instant rewards in sport, even in tipping … but I, personally, went unrewarded by the experiment. I missed out on the 100%, untainted glory of my team’s victory on Saturday night for the 50% chance of getting the tip right. As Tim Watson said in his commentary on Channel 7 on Sunday afternoon: ‘Fortune favours the brave, but you still have to stick to the percentages.’
For me, this momentary foray into CCT has taught me to know which hat suits me. I tried on the ‘bonnet of betrayal’, wore it out in public for a night and was ridiculed. It wasn’t comfortable. It doesn’t suit me. I cannot wear it with the conviction it demands. The best place for it is in a vacuum-sucked ‘Spacebag’ under the dresser with the summer clothes.
With regard to Travis, his contract will be terminated, but he will be privy to a handsome renumeration package. With regard to the refashioning of my tipping style, the challenge becomes how to score well enough around my loyalty to be at the top. It must be possible. Who top scored last week? Toby the Loyal. And with regard to my personal refashioning – well, I’ll have to find other ways. I am thinking of wearing electric blue and magenta this winter. And I might cut my hair shorter again.
Happy tipping!
AND:
Don't forget, Round 3 starts tomorrow (Thursday) night. Tips due by 7pm, Thursday 9th April.
Weekly features over in the pocket.
Always worth a look and a quote: John Harms in the AGE on a Wednesday.
When you get a new haircut or you start to wear skirts when you’ve always worn pants, make-up when you’ve always gone ‘au naturel’ … people get unsettled. They are generally uncomfortable with small scale adjustments. They fear them as tremors for greater quakes to come.
This week, I tipped against my team for the first time ever. (Well, I employed Travis to tip against my team on my behalf.)
Now, I know that those of you who have been around a number of years will argue that this is no small scale matter, because I have often beat my bulletin drum for the rewards of loyalty, the significance of tribalism and have many-a-time guilted ‘deserters’. So the backlash received was not unanticipated. I was accused of deserting, of succumbing to greed, of being ‘contaminated’. My choice was described as ‘an act of extreme disloyalty’ and ‘reprehensible’. I was even called ‘traitor Thilde’ … in 48 point, red, bold oblique type.
So, let me explain. Here was my thinking.
I am at a point in my tipping career, where I need to make a change. My current approach is not working. The most obvious thing that needed addressing was whether I could afford to continue blindly tipping the Swans.
For the past two pre-seasons, Swans supporters have been cautioned to steel themselves for bad years ahead. Last year’s unexpected effort only made this year seem more ominous. As I came into this season, with my team supposedly ‘transitioning’, I found myself faced with the dilemma of how to behave. I have become accustomed to success, to easy faith. The extravagant fruits of consecutive finals experiences and Premiership glory, have left me unable to remember what it is like on struggle street, how one should hold oneself, what to wear to be best protected, how to play best defence.
This year, I decided I had better put in my own pre-season. Part of the training was to read American writer Richard Ford’s trilogy of novels which begins with The Sportswriter. On page 59, the character, Frank, a sportswriter, observes: ‘Years of athletic training teach this; the necessity of relinquishing doubt and ambiguity and self-inquiry in favour of a pleasant, self-championing one-dimensionality which has instant rewards in sport.’
So when I looked at the fixture in Round 2 and saw my boys were coming up against the Premiers, the Twin Towers, the Zone – I saw it as a bright opportunity to put some of my pre-season work into action. Even the coach and the club were tipping Buddy to sell the fixture!
Before I handed the baton to Travis, knowing he would pick the Hawks for me, I asked myself the big questions?
What, in the world of footy, is the nature of loyalty?
Is loyalty believing that your team will always win? Or is loyalty knowing they will sometimes (or often) lose but standing by them nonetheless? Or is loyalty, not worrying about whether they will or won’t win and just being there? Aren’t these all versions of ‘tipping your team’, no matter what?
‘Perhaps I should just tip the Swans,’ I hesitated.
But if I go to the match on Saturday night, I’ll be there, right? – a loyal club member, just like it says on the back of my cap. We all know that I am vulnerable to footy team ‘affairs’ … but as far as the long term goes, I’m just like Buddy – I am a one club girl. I did not cancel my membership this year, though there was plenty of incentive; I go to Homebush by train; I have fridge magnets; I knit red and white scarves for the O’Reilly boys; I continue to try to convert the next generation. No one can question my loyalty to my team. Or can they? Will they? Do your club loyalties and tipping loyalties need to be aligned? Does it make a difference if I go to Saturday night’s match suspecting they will lose, having tipped them to lose?
Is desertion a condition of the mind or the body or both? If you have left someone in your mind, have you already left them? Or are you still with them so long as you are physically there? Is your presence itself the belief that you will return in mind as well?
From the eye of this storm of doubt and hesitation, I reached out my finger and hit ‘send’ on the email request to Travis. Back came the reply: ‘Hawks. Good luck though.’ Just like that.
The Swans were never supposed to win. I outlined to Toby, on the train to Olympic Park, my preparations for the after effects of my decision in the context of a Hawthorn victory. Tipping against the Swans was never going to be a change of heart on the position of contra-team tipping (or CCT). I was not about to turn my spots into stripes and decree that a life of tipping treachery is finally for me. I simply wanted to try it on, see what it feels like, wander around in the shoes of the self-serving opportunist – not for a win, not for the points, not for the money – for the experience of seeing if I could be someone who lived life in this way week-to-week, if I could be self-championing rather than team loyal, one-dimensional instead of muddled by ambiguity, to see if the hat would suit me, if it would help me keep warm this winter.
Once the Hawks had won, I would be vindicated but feel no better. I would accept the success of the experiment, lament the success of the experiment, remove the gold lamé jacket of self-serving one dimensionality and hop back into the tracksuit pants of loyalty. No one would remember what I had done, least of all me. My night of dressing dangerously would be swallowed by the slow, chilly, ticking days of a long winter.
But, the Swans won … which left my CCT standing naked, out in the cold.
I spent the night wondering what would become of me. Could – would – my fellow tipsters ever accept my Round 2 tips as a meagre dalliance, a flirtation with the other side? Or would it be a long lasting black mark? Was my credibility shot or could I still recover? How would I get back to being me? Would it be time on the bench, time with the comp psychologist or time with Danny Green in my local area? Would it be punishment and the talk show circuit or Mallorca in a wheelchair?
By morning, I was receiving messages of condolence (I think it was condolence?). ‘Poor Thilde’ they cried. But I felt so good about the win. ‘Bet you regret that tip!’ they jeered. Yes, I did. I felt sheepish at what I had done. But it did not prevent the joys of victory - Goodesy’s hanger that sparked the Swans, the ruck domination, the accuracy on goal, the recovered run off half back, the clean skills, the cold beer in plastic cups, a visit in the stands from Bernie, a raw, sore throat from cheering, a rolled up record, tattered from being belted into the palm of my hand and three choruses of ‘Cheer, cheer’. ‘Yes, but it’s tinged’, they commiserated. And, if I am honest, it was. I’d like to say it wasn’t, that I can quarantine my footy pleasure from my tipping. But, if I am honest, I can’t.
Footy and tipping are so different – one is about the team, the other about the individual. Footy is about observation and participation, tipping is about judgement and competition. Can you ever fulfil the ontological aims of both activities at once – to support your team at the footy and to tip as many correct teams as you can? To be true to both is surely to wear two hats at once.
Self-championing one-dimensionality may have instant rewards in sport, even in tipping … but I, personally, went unrewarded by the experiment. I missed out on the 100%, untainted glory of my team’s victory on Saturday night for the 50% chance of getting the tip right. As Tim Watson said in his commentary on Channel 7 on Sunday afternoon: ‘Fortune favours the brave, but you still have to stick to the percentages.’
For me, this momentary foray into CCT has taught me to know which hat suits me. I tried on the ‘bonnet of betrayal’, wore it out in public for a night and was ridiculed. It wasn’t comfortable. It doesn’t suit me. I cannot wear it with the conviction it demands. The best place for it is in a vacuum-sucked ‘Spacebag’ under the dresser with the summer clothes.
With regard to Travis, his contract will be terminated, but he will be privy to a handsome renumeration package. With regard to the refashioning of my tipping style, the challenge becomes how to score well enough around my loyalty to be at the top. It must be possible. Who top scored last week? Toby the Loyal. And with regard to my personal refashioning – well, I’ll have to find other ways. I am thinking of wearing electric blue and magenta this winter. And I might cut my hair shorter again.
Happy tipping!
AND:
Don't forget, Round 3 starts tomorrow (Thursday) night. Tips due by 7pm, Thursday 9th April.
Weekly features over in the pocket.
Always worth a look and a quote: John Harms in the AGE on a Wednesday.
Friday 3 April 2009
ROUND 2
Here are some bits and pieces you may want to encounter before your Round 2 tips:
Here are the team ins and outs for Round 2.
Here is ABC Grandstand's preview of the Round.
There are a few good statistical considerations in this.
Robert Murphy is back in Thursday's AGE.
Now onto the Gold Coast Guernsey - intended to represent Queensland's sun, surf and sea.
Richard sent me these thoughts during the week:
'So the sun shines out of their chests...... at last the solar plexus gets its place in the sun. But, over all, I think I like it. Simple is gold these days in guernsey land.'
My thoughts to him were:
'It better be a team of blackfellas cause how many pimply Anglo teenagers do you know who look good in yellow? And the sand coloured shorts!!??' Am looking forward to seeing the club’s bronzed lifesaver mascot, ‘GC'!
And could this be the lucky charm that the Swans need in 2008? The Tip Mistress' season 09 present from Patrick ... my very own Lucky (Tony) Locket(t) ... from a NZ artist living in Norway!
Here are the team ins and outs for Round 2.
Here is ABC Grandstand's preview of the Round.
There are a few good statistical considerations in this.
Robert Murphy is back in Thursday's AGE.
Now onto the Gold Coast Guernsey - intended to represent Queensland's sun, surf and sea.
Richard sent me these thoughts during the week:
'So the sun shines out of their chests...... at last the solar plexus gets its place in the sun. But, over all, I think I like it. Simple is gold these days in guernsey land.'
My thoughts to him were:
'It better be a team of blackfellas cause how many pimply Anglo teenagers do you know who look good in yellow? And the sand coloured shorts!!??' Am looking forward to seeing the club’s bronzed lifesaver mascot, ‘GC'!
And could this be the lucky charm that the Swans need in 2008? The Tip Mistress' season 09 present from Patrick ... my very own Lucky (Tony) Locket(t) ... from a NZ artist living in Norway!
Wednesday 1 April 2009
BULLETIN - POST ROUND 1
Barry Hall is right – ‘It’s déjà vu all over again.’
The approach of the football season, its sensations, are very familiar. There is an annual repetitiveness to this time of year. Here we go. Here we go again. It feels the same as it creeps into the bones. By mid March, I’m looking for the Sports pages again. I’ve switched my Home page back over to sydneyswans.com.au. The chatterings of pre-season form find ways to infiltrate my concerted disinterest. The goal posts are banged into the sunbaked lawn of the backyard. It is a time that is all about potential, a time to scheme wonderful changes for your team, your tipping and for footy in general.
There is pure excitement for the impending resumption of play – how many more sleeps? There are the puffed up hopes that a clean slate offers. It’s a little like childbirth. The body and mind forget the pain of the last time and, if you’re not careful, you find yourself going back for more. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. After the long summer, the failings and disappointments of the previous year have been forgiven and, come March, a fresh faith in your team is feasible. It’s redemption time.
Invariably, it’s a time of many RE-s. And, while the season is still on approach, the REs are delightful. There’s no room for (spoken) pessimism. There’s too far to go.
2009 would be the season of reform for Barry Hall and Alan Didak, Rhyce Shaw, Andrew Lovett and Brendan ‘Newly appointed to the Leadership Group’ Fevola. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. It would be the next step of rehabilitation for Ben Cousins. What a reassuring sight for footy fans during the NAB cup – the familiar display of him regurgitating just off the centre square. Team lists are refreshed, the bodies of their cattle restructured. Hamstrings have been released, hernias repaired, shoulders reconstructed, knee joints restrung.
Now, it must be resumption time.
As the first siren of the Home and Away season approaches, the teams themselves are like race horses jostling to get into the barriers. Some need to prance around a lot in front of the gates and draw a lot of attention to themselves. Some just like to slip in quietly. And their supporters and detractors jockey around them in chorus.
Commentators, experts, retired players, ex coaches, members, tipsters, Club Presidents, Dream Teamers and complete novices have all decided impending form: the Cats will be waving the flag in September with the Hawks right there. Look out for the rematch. There is still faith in the Dogs and the Saints; the Magpies are ‘right about the mark’ and ‘genuine contenders’ (again!); Melbourne and West Coast are firmly rebuilding; the Swans and Crows are too old. And then there is a pack of unknowns – North, the Lions, the Bombers, Port, the Dockers. And then … there was Richmond v Carton to start it all off, Judd v Cousins, early draft picks v early draft picks, fairytale v fairytale - the ex-Eagle captains squaring off in the midfield against each other, rudders for two teams hoping to make the finals after eight years in the swampy wilderness of the bottom 8.
Round 1, 2009, came on Thursday night. The decks were cleared, ABC coverage sought online. Minutes after the first bounce, Matthew Richardson had the first shot on goal for 2009, 30 metres out. It hit the post. Moments later, Judd delivered to Jarrad Waite who snapped and goaled. It was clear which way this story was going. As the match progressed or declined, depending on your side of the fence, Mark Maclure proclaimed: ‘The summer of hope is gone.’ Drew Morphett decided: ‘The balloon of optimism has been pricked here’. And that was before the twang of the Cousins hamstring, Cousins - the saved and the saviour. (No wonder his hamstring went. That’s a lot to carry.) The hamstring had Gerard Whately reaching for operatic proportions: ‘Cousins ripped his hamstring and he’s ripped the guts out of the off season.’
Fantasy to reality is the transition from what is possible to what is probable and Round 1 is its threshold. By 10pm on Thursday night, reality was back in charge.
By the end of Round 1, what was one united, pre-seasonal family of optimistic footy supporters has generally divided into two camps. On the winners’ side, the ‘here we go’ is made solid by good performance. On the losers’ side, the ‘here we go’ takes on a moaning, lifting, longing quality - ‘Oh no, here we go again.’ Déjà vu all over again.
In fact, reality can be hard either way. If it’s a win, can they repeat it? If it’s a loss, will they repeat it? Will it be continued success or a recurring nightmare.
Fantasy makes no space for demons – they’re just monsters in the dark. Perhaps footy fans are finally cottoning on to this – could it be the explanation for the exponential increase of interest in fantasy football - Dream Teams? Take our esteemed Coach Ian. He has given up his real team in favour of his Dream Team. And who can blame him? After Round 1 at Etihad, all three of the remaining Swans members/O’Reilly boys sent me a brief but potent email to this effect: ‘It’s going to be a long, cold winter’. Fantasy is something to excite. Reality can be something to endure.
This brand of repetitive reality, the one that is recognisable only after the season begins, can be ghastly. It is the collective groan of recognising your team make the same mistakes. The Tigers must feel it, the Dockers too. The Swans are starting to see a pattern emerge. Oh no, déjà vu, we cry.
Barry Hall ends his Friday masterpiece by suggesting – ‘Let’s get on with the real stuff’. But I want to ask Barry – ‘If that was the real stuff, can we return to the fantasy?’
Yes, we can.
Because repetition can serve you here too. There’s always next week. We get another chance. There are 21 Rounds to go. History tells us that the Swans had kicked 1.0 by half time in Round 1 against Adelaide in 1996 and lost by 90 points. They went on to play the Grand Final of that year. We’re notoriously slow starters. Hopefully, it’s déjà vu, all over again.
And so the cycle begins its turning. It has a natural cycle, a footy season, not unlike a washing machine. You know it’s going to wind up, bubble away and then spin like crazy before it finishes. But with footy, you’re not in control of the dial. You don’t know what setting you’re going to get: delicate, super soiled, economy, extra revolutions …
For tipsters too - there is a long road to endure when the Record says Round 1. Port Adelaide captain, Dominic Cassisi, summed it up: ‘There’s a lot of hurt and a lot of pain playing your first game of the year.’ Yeah, well there’s a lot of that tipping your first round of the year too, Dom. Speaking with our defending champion, Peter, last week, he reminded me of the precipitousness of arbitrarily picking a bunch of teams you know nothing about at this point and locking them in for a win. It’s now a matter of reinvseting week after week, and risking that reinvestment week after week, all over again.
Ah, déjà vu.
Happy tipping!
For more on this, see Rohan Connolly's recent article and John Harms' piece in today's Age. The weekly features, which accompany the bulletin, are over at the backpocket.
The approach of the football season, its sensations, are very familiar. There is an annual repetitiveness to this time of year. Here we go. Here we go again. It feels the same as it creeps into the bones. By mid March, I’m looking for the Sports pages again. I’ve switched my Home page back over to sydneyswans.com.au. The chatterings of pre-season form find ways to infiltrate my concerted disinterest. The goal posts are banged into the sunbaked lawn of the backyard. It is a time that is all about potential, a time to scheme wonderful changes for your team, your tipping and for footy in general.
There is pure excitement for the impending resumption of play – how many more sleeps? There are the puffed up hopes that a clean slate offers. It’s a little like childbirth. The body and mind forget the pain of the last time and, if you’re not careful, you find yourself going back for more. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. After the long summer, the failings and disappointments of the previous year have been forgiven and, come March, a fresh faith in your team is feasible. It’s redemption time.
Invariably, it’s a time of many RE-s. And, while the season is still on approach, the REs are delightful. There’s no room for (spoken) pessimism. There’s too far to go.
2009 would be the season of reform for Barry Hall and Alan Didak, Rhyce Shaw, Andrew Lovett and Brendan ‘Newly appointed to the Leadership Group’ Fevola. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. It would be the next step of rehabilitation for Ben Cousins. What a reassuring sight for footy fans during the NAB cup – the familiar display of him regurgitating just off the centre square. Team lists are refreshed, the bodies of their cattle restructured. Hamstrings have been released, hernias repaired, shoulders reconstructed, knee joints restrung.
Now, it must be resumption time.
As the first siren of the Home and Away season approaches, the teams themselves are like race horses jostling to get into the barriers. Some need to prance around a lot in front of the gates and draw a lot of attention to themselves. Some just like to slip in quietly. And their supporters and detractors jockey around them in chorus.
Commentators, experts, retired players, ex coaches, members, tipsters, Club Presidents, Dream Teamers and complete novices have all decided impending form: the Cats will be waving the flag in September with the Hawks right there. Look out for the rematch. There is still faith in the Dogs and the Saints; the Magpies are ‘right about the mark’ and ‘genuine contenders’ (again!); Melbourne and West Coast are firmly rebuilding; the Swans and Crows are too old. And then there is a pack of unknowns – North, the Lions, the Bombers, Port, the Dockers. And then … there was Richmond v Carton to start it all off, Judd v Cousins, early draft picks v early draft picks, fairytale v fairytale - the ex-Eagle captains squaring off in the midfield against each other, rudders for two teams hoping to make the finals after eight years in the swampy wilderness of the bottom 8.
Round 1, 2009, came on Thursday night. The decks were cleared, ABC coverage sought online. Minutes after the first bounce, Matthew Richardson had the first shot on goal for 2009, 30 metres out. It hit the post. Moments later, Judd delivered to Jarrad Waite who snapped and goaled. It was clear which way this story was going. As the match progressed or declined, depending on your side of the fence, Mark Maclure proclaimed: ‘The summer of hope is gone.’ Drew Morphett decided: ‘The balloon of optimism has been pricked here’. And that was before the twang of the Cousins hamstring, Cousins - the saved and the saviour. (No wonder his hamstring went. That’s a lot to carry.) The hamstring had Gerard Whately reaching for operatic proportions: ‘Cousins ripped his hamstring and he’s ripped the guts out of the off season.’
Fantasy to reality is the transition from what is possible to what is probable and Round 1 is its threshold. By 10pm on Thursday night, reality was back in charge.
By the end of Round 1, what was one united, pre-seasonal family of optimistic footy supporters has generally divided into two camps. On the winners’ side, the ‘here we go’ is made solid by good performance. On the losers’ side, the ‘here we go’ takes on a moaning, lifting, longing quality - ‘Oh no, here we go again.’ Déjà vu all over again.
In fact, reality can be hard either way. If it’s a win, can they repeat it? If it’s a loss, will they repeat it? Will it be continued success or a recurring nightmare.
Fantasy makes no space for demons – they’re just monsters in the dark. Perhaps footy fans are finally cottoning on to this – could it be the explanation for the exponential increase of interest in fantasy football - Dream Teams? Take our esteemed Coach Ian. He has given up his real team in favour of his Dream Team. And who can blame him? After Round 1 at Etihad, all three of the remaining Swans members/O’Reilly boys sent me a brief but potent email to this effect: ‘It’s going to be a long, cold winter’. Fantasy is something to excite. Reality can be something to endure.
This brand of repetitive reality, the one that is recognisable only after the season begins, can be ghastly. It is the collective groan of recognising your team make the same mistakes. The Tigers must feel it, the Dockers too. The Swans are starting to see a pattern emerge. Oh no, déjà vu, we cry.
Barry Hall ends his Friday masterpiece by suggesting – ‘Let’s get on with the real stuff’. But I want to ask Barry – ‘If that was the real stuff, can we return to the fantasy?’
Yes, we can.
Because repetition can serve you here too. There’s always next week. We get another chance. There are 21 Rounds to go. History tells us that the Swans had kicked 1.0 by half time in Round 1 against Adelaide in 1996 and lost by 90 points. They went on to play the Grand Final of that year. We’re notoriously slow starters. Hopefully, it’s déjà vu, all over again.
And so the cycle begins its turning. It has a natural cycle, a footy season, not unlike a washing machine. You know it’s going to wind up, bubble away and then spin like crazy before it finishes. But with footy, you’re not in control of the dial. You don’t know what setting you’re going to get: delicate, super soiled, economy, extra revolutions …
For tipsters too - there is a long road to endure when the Record says Round 1. Port Adelaide captain, Dominic Cassisi, summed it up: ‘There’s a lot of hurt and a lot of pain playing your first game of the year.’ Yeah, well there’s a lot of that tipping your first round of the year too, Dom. Speaking with our defending champion, Peter, last week, he reminded me of the precipitousness of arbitrarily picking a bunch of teams you know nothing about at this point and locking them in for a win. It’s now a matter of reinvseting week after week, and risking that reinvestment week after week, all over again.
Ah, déjà vu.
Happy tipping!
For more on this, see Rohan Connolly's recent article and John Harms' piece in today's Age. The weekly features, which accompany the bulletin, are over at the backpocket.
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