GETTING TO KNOW YOU > Part 2

Only one more game taker for this week's profiles ...

PATRICK

I tip ... because I have no choice. I'm looking for a twelve step program to release me from the pain. I find I get the itch every year around late February and then I'm Demetriou's bitch until the last Saturday... make that the first Saturday in October.

My team is ... so much better than those Pies. My team embraces life in all its complexity; none of the slick, flawless football the Pies produce week in week out.

If I were an AFL player, I would play ... like Paul Kelly.

My autobiography would be called ... What's the score? My life as a tipping addict.

If I could live in any city in the world ... Paris and I would be twenty again.

My dream job ... has an office by the sea.

If I'm about to watch the footy on TV, I ... am overcome with a certain contentment.

The first thing I'll do when I wake up tomorrow morning is ... check my dream team score... a new drug Demetriou has slipped me of late, infinitely more addictive than tipping.

If I were a colour, I'd ... change with the angle of the light.

If I were invited to perform at the AFL Grand Final pre-show entertainment, I would wonder if they had read my CV correctly. (and Travis would definitely perform in my GF pre-show gig.)

GETTING TO KNOW YOU > Part 1

a space for breathing

TRAVIS

I tip … as if it is a successful business. Except that my son, a lazy worker, is currently employed by me. He is crap at his job and costs me money. All my other employers think I should get rid of him, but I can't. I love him.

My team is … my lazy working son: Fremantle.

If I were an AFL player, I would play … on a back flank. I would learn my opponents names and call them out when they were in sticky situations, so that they might pass the ball to me before they realise ... it used to work in under 16's.

My autobiography would be called: More is more ... is more!

If I could live in any city in the world … I would currently live in Paris. Stones throw from Italy, and an inspiration to the senses.

My dream job … has deadlines.

If I'm about to watch the footy on TV, I ... remind myself not to drink too much. My knee-jerk reaction is to reach for the bottle when Freo are losing.

The first thing I'll do when I wake up tomorrow morning is … smile at my fiancee ... whilst secretly thinking of the entire Collingwood team being involved in an horrific bus crash. With flames. Lotsa flames.

If I were a colour, I'd be … prejudice against other colours.

If I were invited to perform at the AFL Grand Final pre-show entertainment, I would … ask Patrick Nolan to direct it.


OMAR

I tip ... the Swans every week.

My team is ... the Swans.

If I were an AFL player, I would play ... well. (I do because I do play AFL)

My autobiography would be called ... Omar’s Life.

If I could live in any city in the world ...the city would be fun.

My dream job ... is play.

If I'm about to watch the footy on TV, I ... scream.

The first thing I'll do when I wake up tomorrow morning is ... yawn

If I were a colour, I'd be ...orange.

If I were invited to perform at the AFL Grand Final pre-show entertainment, I would ... be wild.


BERNIE

I tip … because I am….and I don’t think the locals in Melbourne will let me survive another winter without having a tipping comp.

My team is … Adelaide Crows, please refer to the above response, I plead for discretion.

If I were an AFL player, I would play … Wing, so I could at least run for my life!

My autobiography would be called … How many flights does it take to light a globe?

If I could live in any city in the world ... Melbourne! Sorry Sydney it’s really growing on me, I know she’s not a flashy as you but the rumours about her coffee are true….

My dream job …actually living the dream baby, lighting designer.

If I'm about to watch the footy on TV, I ...warm up the pies chill the beers.

The first thing I'll do when I wake up tomorrow morning is ... have a coffee – go to the Richmond markets.

If I were a colour, I'd be ... A generally misunderstood shade of architectural green grey that was popular around 2008/09 and is now living in the hope of a comeback.

If I were invited to perform at the AFL Grand Final pre-show entertainment, I would ... have to rely on my natural good looks. Oh Shit.


LUCINDA

I tip … like I play scrabble. All passion no tactics.

My team is … dominating.

If I were an AFL player, I would play … hard ball get (I don't know what that means but I love the expression).

My autobiography would be called … A Dog for all Seasons

If I could live in any city in the world … for a couple of months next year, maybe go back to Chennai for a bit.

My dream job is … maybe the job I do in my dreams but I don't dream about work :)

If I'm about to watch the footy on TV, I … get a bowl of pasta and pour a glass of wine.

The first thing I'll do when I wake up tomorrow morning is … yoga.

If I were a colour, I'd be … green! or yellow.

If I were invited to perform at the AFL Grand Final pre-show entertainment, I would … raise the bar. Somehow.


MATHILDE

I tip … pretty poorly considering how much I love and watch the game.

My team is ... the rock of my winters.

If I were an AFL player, I would play ... tight. I’d want to be tagging those bodies, wouldn’t I?

My autobiography would be called ... The World of Mum (Omar’s suggestion) My Life in Lists (my suggestion)

If I could live in any city in the world, I … wouldn’t wake up so often at 3am and wonder why I still live in Sydney.

My dream job ... involves a lot of paid thinking time.

If I'm about to watch the footy on TV, I … must be dreaming. I live in NSW for God’s sake.

The first thing I'll do when I wake up tomorrow morning is … wish that I could lie in bed all day and read rather than get the Cygnet to Auskick by 7.45. 7.45 punters!! For the love of the game.

If I were a colour, I'd be ... a dark, steely blue.

If I were invited to perform at the AFL Grand Final pre-show entertainment, I would … say no (and refer them to Lucie).

QUOTES of the Week

‘Nine times out of ten he delivers every time.’
Blues coach BRETT RATTEN on Chris Judd.

'We need our midfield to generate some ball. If those guys get up and going and the ball gets going in our direction it solves a lot of our problems.'
Tigers coach DAMIEN HARDWICK getting back to basics for Round 2 v Saints.

‘It's got to be in your memory. A lot of effort had gone under the bridge throughout the season to get to that point and we would have liked to have put up a better performance than what we did. It shouldn't be a talking point, it just should be there in bed.’
Coach MARK HARVEY on the Dockers’ finals loss to Geelong. Think he might be mixing his sayings.

‘The good news is he (the surgeon) tells me my face will be stronger now than it was.’
Brisbane forward JONATHAN BROWN.

BULLETIN > Week 2

The new Australian cricket captain, Michael Clarke, is going back to basics. Batting, bowling and fielding.

It’s always reassuring to hear an elite sportsperson articulate his or her core business. It’s easy to get caught up on the periphery of sport – stuck in the heavy traffic of reportage – the ins and outs, the head games, the head knocks, the nightclubs, the broken relationships between clubs and their lost stars. But it does one good (occasionally) to reconsider the fundamentals of the sport we become so absorbed in.

When a young cub signs up for Auskick, the three things the coach emphasises are kicking, handballing and … having fun. Not sure if the senior coaches would frame it quite the same way. Possibly, the basics of AFL cannot be refined to a simple holy triptych? For, what do you do with marking and tackling and blocking and what about forward pressure and bouncing and zoning and the hallowed one percenters like spoiling? Different players obviously have different basics. In his confessional for the Herald Sun today, Gary Ablett revealed that he hasn’t moved on that much since his Auskick days; enjoyment is the most important thing for Gaz. Lucky he’s up there in Queensland now with the sand and the sea and the sun and the meter maids.

But there’s one important basic that hasn’t been mentioned. Before the first bounce, Blood #5, Ryan O’Keefe, titillated Swans supporters with a tit bit almost as inspiring as Captain Clarke’s:

‘Footy’s still pretty basic - you’ve got to get the ball, then kick it through the goals.’

Yep, Ryan, it’s true. And obviously Round 1 is still, for all intents, a kind of jumping off the block; the season is a marathon, remember. So no need to panic that Sydney kicked 11.18 for the match against Melbourne and only managed to tie that match precisely because Ryan O’Keefe kicked … a behind. Goals, Ryan, goals. Back to basics.

I love goals. I also love to see five-bounce runs from half back full-stopped by a superb kick onto the chest of a man parked in the goal square. I love to see an inside midfielder swoop on a clearance and get the ball inside 50 in one kick. I love to see a full bodied defensive punch. I love to see any mark by Liam Jurrah or Jack Riewoldt, or even cousin Nick, for that matter, especially when he reaches between 6 arms to pluck it. But a superb mark or a dashing run does not guarantee that other great footy basic scoreboard pressure. I suspect we love goals more than anything else, because it means winning. Simple.

For the lover, the watcher, of footy, there is a simple collection of basics: Look, listen, learn. Particularly difficult to do in NSW. I armed myself on Friday night last with a series of small domestic tasks, a glass of wine and my beloved Friday night team on ABC radio – Gerard Whateley, David Parkin and the increasingly misanthropic Peter Schwab. There you have it, a nice trio of basics: Whateley (getting fluffier) Schwabby (getting darker) Parkin (the ever consistent meat between the two).

Ten minutes into the commentary, the fervour of the first quarter of Friday night footy 2011 died. The tones became sombre, and then someone was asking the nays to move to the left of the chamber. God, they’d interrupted the coverage for the announcement of a double dissolution. I waited. Something about something and something – the basics of running the country no doubt. I assumed the ABC would rectify the situation. Ten minutes later I returned from putting away folded washing. Still going. I tried to stream online but the AFL have made their new website so complicated that it moves as fast as Plugger off the mark. No luck there. So I called the ABC to find out what had happened.

‘Oh yes,’ said the tired but friendly voice at the other end. ‘The politicians own that channel so if they want to stay and talk all night, and decide to put themselves back on, then that’s what we’re stuck with until they decide to go home.’ Ah, New South Wales. (This was a day before Bazza. Don’t worry, we’re going back to basics now.)

It took me until 9.28 to find an alternative avenue into live streaming. And when normal coverage resumed, Peter Schwab was yawning, Saints Sub Brett Peake was frustrated, Adam White was discussing the gingerbread cake supplied by the MCG and the ground photographers were calling it the worst game of football they’d ever seen. Why? Because, by the end of the third quarter, the Cats had kicked 4.10 and the Saints were on 4.11. get the ball, then kick it through the goals.

At this point, the ABC crossed live to Moonee Valley where a horse called Black Caviar – ‘The Black Flash’ they call her – was attempting to win her 11th straight start on Metropolitan tracks. Jockey Luke Nolen urged her to the finish line, all the way to the title of undisputed Champion sprinter of the World. Run, run, get to the post first. And when the coverage crossed back to the MCG, another champion was finally finding his post. Jimmy Bartel kicked true from the boundary to put the Cats in front.

Pup’s announcement this week could be the kick-start many of us need to reinvigorate small slack corners of our own lives. Tipsters need basics. Which ones do you use? Injuries, match ups, ground. Or are you more of a Team, form, history kind of tipster?

And what about life?
Wake, eat, sleep?

Parenthood?
Cajole, inspire, bribe.
Motivate, encourage, yell.
Feed, wash, bed.

And writing?
Clean desk, make tea, organise pencils.
Washing up, vacuuming, oops too late.
Word, sentence, delete.

Whatever your core business, there’s a round of footy beginning now. The politicians have gone home. Whateley, Parkin and Schwab in place. Riewoldt, J is already concussed. Concussion, rooms, play.

Happy tipping!


PS.

Or if the basics just aren’t you … you might like to check this out.
Practice, Time, Power.

PPS.

Lucinda of ‘What Dog is that Coach’ fame is working on the next Coach/Dog. In the meantime, she recommends this.

TIGER DIARY 31.3.2011

Oh look - glory days are here!

Very little on the Tigerland website about a team that lost its third (at least) season opener on the trot v. mortal enemy #2.

Oh no!

But feast your eyes on this outstanding fact presented and dissected in detail:

9 goals - Jack Titus v North Melbourne, Round 1, 1938 at Punt Road
8 goals - Jack Titus v Melbourne, Round 1, 1934 at Punt Road8 goals - Brian Taylor v Fitzroy, 1982 at Waverley Park*
8 goals - Matthew Richardson v Footscray, Round 1, 1994 at Western Oval
7 goals - Michael Roach v Essendon, Round 1, 1985 at Windy Hill
7 goals - David Cloke v Carlton, Round 1, 1978 at MCG
7 goals - Allan Edwards v Carlton, Round 1, 1978 at MCG
7 goals - Bob Dummett v North Melbourne, Round 1, 1957 at Punt Road
7 goals - Ken Albiston v Footscray, Round 1, 1949 at Punt Road
7 goals - George Bayliss v Collingwood, Round 1, 1922 at Punt Road

6 goals - Jack Riewoldt v Carlton, Round 1, 2011 at MCG

6 goals - Matthew Richardson v Collingwood, Round 1, 2002 at MCG
6 goals - Matthew Richardson v Essendon, Round 1, 1996 at MCG
6 goals - Jeff Hogg v Melbourne, Round 1, 1988 at MCG
6 goals - Michael Roach v Melbourne, Round 1, 1986 at MCG
6 goals - Brian Taylor v Carlton, Round 1, 1983 at Princes Park
6 goals - Royce Hart v Essendon, Round 1, 1973 at Windy Hill
6 goals - Michael Roach v Carlton, Round 1, 1981 at Waverley Park
6 goals - Eric Moore v Fitzroy, Round 1, 1970 at the MCG
6 goals - Jack Dyer v South Melbourne, Round 1, 1948 at Lake Oval
6 goals - Dick Harris v Melbourne, Round 1, 1939 at MCG
6 goals - Jack Titus v St Kilda, Round 1, 1936 at Punt Road
6 goals - Jack Titus v Footscray, Round 1, 1935 at Western Oval

Yep - a tisket, a tasket.
Riewoldt kicked the eleventh highest number of goals EVER for Richmond in Rd 1.
Tigerland is once again placing all it's eggs in one yellow and black basket.
Richo has handed it over to Jack who, no matter what, saved the world and staked an early mortgage on the Brownlow in Round 1.
Marvelous.
We Lost, but it's gunna be a season to remember. OH YEAH.













Round 2 offers a 22 made up of players having 16 different letters for surname initials.
Only I, L, P, Q, S, T, U, X, Y, Z not represented.
THIS IS THE IMPORTANT STUFF.
READ IT AND WEEP EVERYBODY.
The Tiger is Stirring.......more sugar into it's teabag tea methinks.

BULLETIN > WEEK 1

I don’t know if it’s all the talk of seasons or eves, or the Tiger Diary that landed on my desk earlier this week (see below), but it’s been feeling a lot like Christmas.

Thanks to the inclination and determination of the Cygnet, we do Christmas build-up well in this household. It begins long before the first window is prised open on the advent calendar. In this house, it begins when the mid-year LEGO catalogue arrives in the mail. Slowly, subconsciously at first, it builds. Then, despite my best intentions to hold off until the twelfth month, by the end of November our simple home is decorated with treasured toilet role Santas and paper chains, a ‘real’ plastic Cumberland Pine with years of memories hung on its branches, drawings of absurd snowfields for red nosed reindeer decked in crystals and conifer needles and Scandinavian straw stars hanging from the mantelpiece. The machine is in gear. Then follow letter writing, baking, wrapping, letter re-writing, snooping and many sleepless nights wondering what it will all amount to. For parents, much of December is spent holding the excitement at bay, trying to pace the family, timing the preparations just right so that the team is in tip top shape come the big day. Since late last month, I’ve been experiencing all the same phenomena.

Since the first kick of the pre-season cup, Swans have started coming out of the woodwork around the house. I saw the two white ones in the Salvos window on Canterbury Road last week and swerved to recruit them. The last of the cherry tomatoes have been turned with a little bocconcini. The lucky locket has been polished. The scarves are out of storage and airing on the line. The Dreamteam has been written and rewritten and rewritten. (And I still have til 7.40 to ask for the beautiful tall black forward.) The big man in a suit was even on the cover of the weekend magazine last Saturday. And Auskick has begun. (I nearly tore my hamstring from the bone in a game of stuck-in-the-mud with the Under 7s last night.)

Finally the day is almost upon us. It’s almost time to open up the brightly coloured packages and see what's inside for season 2011. From tonight, we can start unwrapping!! What can we hope to find?

A better song for Freo; a Five Trick Magic Starter Kit for the Tigers, complete with Cash Money Note Maker®; a two-headed Ablett superhero figure (hair sold separately); definitely undies for the boys down at Moorabin; a bronzed, blonde new Coach Doll down at the Bombers (he comes with training outfit, business suit and game day face); a very festive set of red and green ‘Sub Vests’; a carry-case of Eagle soft toys; a fourth Jetta action hero to go with the four Selwoods released last year? Anti ageing cream should suffice down at Geelong and some charisma for the Adelaide teams – organic, corn-fed, Barossa reared and exportable of course. National retailers are relieved to hear that Brisbane stores have at last sold the only remaining Fevola doll.

There will naturally be the things you get every season: a new achilles or two, a couple more synthetic cruciate ligaments and a box set of hamstrings; a handful of new captains, and a few new coaches – a twin pack available this year. There will no doubt be more tattoo vouchers.

But for some of us lucky ones, we will get the ultimate – that shiny, deluxe-sized trophy which lights up the windows of the AFL headquarters. Could the morning booty really be that good or will it be black and white socks from Uncle Eddie, just like last year.

This weekend, we will feast and be merry, bring a special bottle out of the cellar and wear a funny hat. We may imbibe too much. As the funny sirens are blown, we will rise to the spirit of a good day or roll with the first revolution of the wheels of despair. And like every family missing a member on the big day, we will take a moment to remember. For the Bloods, we’ll be missing Craig Bolton – one of very few articulate, fine boned gentleman to have ever played the game. We will remember him as he wished.

‘I’d like to be remembered as a dashing half forward who kicked 10 goals a game, got a lot of the footy and was a great ball user but I probably won’t be remembered like that.’

Happy season and happy tipping!

Season 2011 - The Tiger Diary

T'was the night before kick off,
as always it hurts.
Not a creature was tipping
the Tigers as certs.

Perhaps maybe coulda-been.
Something to hope for.
A limousine outfit
that don't need no chauffeur.
Attacking defensive on ballers to go for.
Rookies from nowhere,
A bagful to show for.
A season for Richmond with plenty of sings.
Bring on a few of my favourite things.

Beanies, opinions, the coaches and minions
The marks and the commentary
Lions and christians.
Devastation. Elation. Despair and delight.
Happy tipping to all, and to all a good night.

as it should be

tut tut

Freo may be on the second rung of the ladder ... but they're pinching the Son of God!

Fremantle's Hayden Ballantyne has been charged with pinching Geelong's Gary Ablett and can accept a $900 sanction with an early plea

The Saints/Magpies conflict is a farce.

Collingwood coach Mick Malthouse and St Kilda forward Stephen Milne have both been fined by the AFL for their part in a verbal clash at Etihad Stadium on Friday night. Malthouse was fined $7500 for calling Milne a "f...ing rapist", while Milne was fined $3000 for making derogatory comments about the Magpies coach's age. Milne also questioned the sexuality of Collingwood assistant Paul Licuria. Licuria was fined $3000 for using threatening language towards Milne.

And as for those Tigers ...

To the naughty chair, the lot of them!

season 2010 begins

a new year

juju n. A charm, amulet, fetish or idol of some W. African peoples; the supernatural or magical power believed to be associated with such an object

On Friday morning, as the coffee was newly steaming in the glasses and an unfamiliar, but somehow welcome autumn chill wafted in the back door, the Cygnet (yes, finally, he’s relented – but that’s another bulletin) and I were fiddling with our dream team in the office. Yes, in the absence of spreadsheets and inspired by Coach Ian, we are coaching our own dream team this year (but that’s another bulletin).

As we began the long teetering that is the process of selecting our weekly captain (the captain doubles his points!), we heard a significantly louder than usual ‘chirp’. ‘That’s a happy birdie,’ I said. A second cheep had us turning inward towards the dining room until we saw fluttering on the light fitting. ‘It’s inside,’ we all called, in unison.

The three of us approached it, our faces tuned upwards towards the light. How extraordinary to see three humans activated so thoroughly by a small bird inside. It flew into the living room and round and round and round and round. Patrick followed its progress, towel in hand, flapping - a hopeless spectator to its ineffectiveness at getting itself out of such a predicament. Omar watched from the hallway. I returned to my coffee. What could I do? Having dealt with a bull-bull in the back verandah only a month or two ago, the Willy Wagtail belonged to the boys.

After some more swirling and flapping and the odd shower of fine, black down, Patrick had the bright idea to release the living room fly screens and the bird had the sense to flee.

We closed the open doors around the house, mildly titillated by the event. Until I remembered the story. A story. It was hazy. An Aboriginal woman telling me of the foretold death of a kinswoman thanks to a Willy Wagtail. Had it been the blessed Ruby? The woman and her sister had each seen a Willy Wagtail, separately, on the same day and that night their other sister died. It was a story I’m sure I had heard somewhere. ‘Wasn’t it you who told me?’ I asked Patrick who looked pale and sculled his coffee. I’m sure it was a wagtail.

The house resumed its rhythm and once more took up the silence of the daily start-up. Cereal was poured, toast buttered, fruit diced, goldfish fed.

‘Are you still online?’ Patrick asked, after a while. ‘Can you just check the Willy Wagtail thing? Stick in ‘Willy Wagtail’ and ‘Aboriginal’. I stuck in ‘Willy Wagtail’ and ‘Aboriginal’. From Wikipedia:

The Willie Wagtail was a feature in Australian aboriginal folklore. Aboriginal tribes in parts of south eastern Australia, such as the Ngarrindjeri of the Lower Murray River (Ruby was Ngarrindjeri) and the Narrunga People of the Yorke Peninsula (Mick O’Loughlin is from the Yorke Peninsula), regard the Willie Wagtail as the bearer of bad news. It was thought that the Willie Wagtail could steal a person’s secrets while lingering around camps eavesdropping, so women would be tight-lipped in the presence of the Willie Wagtail …

Patrick, I should add, is deeply superstitious, and was still recovering from news he received from an apparently good friend after his 44th birthday on Tuesday. Said friend had accompanied his ‘Happy Birthday’ message with the news that 44 was very bad luck in China, 44 being linguistically close to ‘death death’. He didn’t say much after I read him the above. It was simply a steady progression towards a shower and dressing and a peak hour bike trip to work.

The Cygnet and I resumed our work. Riewoldt, O’Keefe or Goddard for captain?
‘Goddard is reliable,’ I suggested.
‘But we’ve already had him,’ chirped the Cygnet, always one for change.
‘What about O’Keefe then? He’s got a 127.50 average?’
‘So does Riewoldt,’ added the Cygnet. He’s right. Of course. And he loves Riewoldt.
‘Ok, so Riewoldt or Ryan?’
And we decided on Nick.

* * *

That night Patrick got home late. He walked into the dining room, socks pulled up over his jeans, perspiring, still strapped into his bike helmet, a white light flashing on the crown of his head.

‘Oh, you got a new light?’ the Cygnet admired.
‘Well I figured that with daylight savings … and the dark … and I’ll be riding in the dark … so I thought … ‘ He removed his helmet and held it before us. ‘It’s got three functions … front and back both flashing, front flashing and back still, back flashing and front steady … it’s just, with the dark … riding in the dark now … I thought …’
The Willy Wagtail.

Portent weaves its way through all of our lives. Anything could be a sign. Any trivial something that floats its way across our days could end up being the arrow that we missed. Or the arrow that we recognise as it is launches from the bow. Or the arrow that we remember, in hindsight, and wish we’d paid some attention to.

The siren blew on Friday night football and I listened sporadically for our captain’s feats and the steady accumulation of our most reliable players’ stats – we have Goddard and Gram in our dream team too.

There was alarm as Riewoldt left the field in the first quarter to have a hip flexor/groin looked at. There was concern as he limped down into the rooms to have a rolled ankle strapped, but relief as he returned. And resumed. By half time, Riewoldt had suffered a possible ‘ham from the bone’. There was plain disconsolation. All our bonus points would add up to precious nothing!

‘Jesus,’ I called to Patrick, ‘It’s the Willy Wagtail. Black and white, bird and all.’

I remembered the story now. It was a friend’s neighbour. A remarkable 91 year old Aboriginal woman who had brought up and schooled 6 children as a single mother in Laperouse. The day she died, both her sisters had seen Willy Wagtails and had known she would die that night.
‘It was for the Saints,’ I cried as Fisher was stretchered off with a facial blow and Hayes had a busted nose strapped up. Patrick put his head over the sink. I could see the relief wash over him. It had been meant for someone else.

It was bad news for the Saints. With one on the bench to rotate, a midfield dragging the job of two absent tall forwards and the lingering loss of the captain (and second premiership chance), the Saints looked beyond hope. Noble warriors or not, surely the Pies would put them away. The black and white bird had come to sing for a black and white victory.

But sometimes you don’t know which side of the portentous fence you’re on. The Saints piled on four last quarter goals. The black and white had their chance to reply. 7 minutes and 58 seconds into the last quarter, Cloke sprayed a kick out of bounds on the full. With 10 minutes 28 gone, John McCarthy missed a set shot on goal out to the left. They flapped and flapped, round and round but couldn’t get out of their predicament and were without the luxury of fleeing. The bird was playing for the other team. The Pies ended the match having kicked 4.17. That must be Collingwood for ‘death death’.

Collywobbles. Collytails. Willywood. 2 and 20 black and white birds were baked in a Pie. I’m just glad there’s no red and white juju birds round here.

But … that’s right. Oh no. It’s the Year of the Tiger.