Get Five from Top Five

Here are the profiles of this week's top 5. What an incentive to aim high.

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PATRICK

I'm concerned that this 'Top 5' is encouraging a certain elitism... why don't we want to know about the 'Bottom 5'? Far be it for me to complain, I should get my answers out quick smart for if the past however many years we've been doing this is anything to go by I'll be hovering around the lower depths for most of the season. With this in mind:

1. As above suggests, I am a caring egalitarian, who however has deep admiration for virtuosity and skills that take a life (and a certain amount of natural talent) to perfect.

2. I wonder if it is ever possible for a human to be perfect.

3. While I once sat in awe looking at Sylvie Guillem, a dancer of phenomenal precision, I was ultimately left cold. I am far more attracted to people who are deeply imperfect.

4. That said, I feel very privileged to have been a fan of the Swans for Adam Goodes' entire playing career. There have been many moments over the course of this time in which I have marvelled at his godlike talent.

5. There have also been many moments when I have dreaded the fact that he is the one standing in front of goal holding the ball. I love Adam Goodes because for all his genius, there have been many occasions when he has presented himself as profoundly human. I sometimes wonder how good a tipper Adam Goodes is.

MATHILDE

1. My favourite position is the half back flanker, the architect of the game who can zone off his direct opponent, break the lines and turn defence into attack. I grew up on Gavin Wanganeen.

2. I prefer brunettes. Or darker ...

3. My favourite place in Sydney is Mahon Pool, Maroubra.

4. I’d like to live in Paris, in a Marais flat with original floorboards, ceiling high windows, an Abyssinian cat and a Tanis desk by Pierre Paulin.

5. If I were not a footy loving human, I’d be a Moomin in Finland. 

SHAAR

1.  I’m an avid Swans member and fan.
2.  My happiest footy moment was being at the MCG cheering the Swans to victory in the 2005 Grand Final.
3.  Barking Dog (Gary) and Minnamurra (Cath) are my Dad and Stepmum.
4.  In 2012, I’m loving being able to watch 4 live games per round on free to air TV.

MARK 

1. I live next door to Ted Richards.  He plays for the Swans.
2. All of Ted's friends have smooth skin and firm young bodies.  They are exceptionally affable; and the apartment is noiseless.
3. Last summer Ted let me have his newspaper when he was on holiday.  Unfortunately I was away, too.
4. At Christmas Ted went home to Melbourne, and caught a cab to the airport with Adam Goodes.  
5. This I saw with my own eyes. 

JaTS

1. The JaTS, originally J@TS (I wanted funky late-90s digital cred), are founding tippers and current Backpocket runnersup. 

2. We're also the Backpocket's only father-son team (are we?); combining Joe's erratic genius and my (Tony's) plodding conservatism. 

3. We're couch-based Swans supporters and despite Mathilde's frequent prodding and living only a fine torp from the SCG we're rarely at the footy. 

4. Although, deep deep down I'm a Saints boy - drawn from my early formative years living in Melbourne (Boroondara Park Primary) in 1966/67. Who else would an impressionable 6 year old adopt as his team?
5. Our tipping tip: mind your margins. They're the difference between winning and losing.

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Defence is the Best Medecine

Before the ink has dried on the Mistress' words below, the Tiger has scribbled his diary! (OK, I did omit a rather large happening ... )

16 April 2012
The Way I Bloody Well See It

Round 3 coughed up a few surprises, not the least the victory to the mighty Shinboners on Sunday evening.
Granted. Mighty is really a bit nostalgic, but who is this tiger kidding about the N word. Punt Rd has been known for some time as Nostalgics are Us.
A great day for Jack; misery for Lyndon.
Jack Riewoldt reallly had a pretty bloody moderate outing against the Dees.
Lynden Dunn can't be blamed for anything from the bench!
A tense Saturday night for Syd as the Bombers almost handed the Suns a rare victory.
And the interesting point is....
And there's been no word from the Collingwood/Carlton home down in Melbourne. More urgent than the well-being of their relationship, the clash was no good for Romeo and Juliet's ladder position.
We want to know who they tipped!
Stuff 'em. Who cares. The Devil has always worn two jerseys/guernseys. 
For us tipsters, a new Champ has risen to the throne. Patrick finds himself at the top for the very first time in 6 years of tipping, sending John a whopping 10 places down the ladder.
'A testament to perseverance' he calls it. Patrick and I now consider ourselves the Posh and Becks of the Backpocket. The Brad and Angelina. The Will and Kate.
I'm kind enough to say you are selling yourselves far too short dear lofty couple. These roosters and cultured pearls are contributing only to pop culture. You two are the bifidus and acidophillus of true sustaining and sustainable culture Dear Ones.
The big movers this week were Gai and David and the Barking Dog Gary with 6 rungs apiece. James, Justine and Cath rose 7. Patrick's already feeling paranoid up there and thinks 'Justine, a newcomer and unknown quantity, could be a smokey!'
Perhaps another big mover this week was The Richmond Tigers. Oh dear, somehow we've surged above Collingwood with just this lowly win against The Demons.
And at the end of Round 3, Carlton are the Premiers; Eddie Betts takes the Norm Smith, and Kennedy Josh (Sydney) the Brownlow.
At the business end of the season it's more likely we see the Pentridge Blues rueing something stupid, Eddie Betts rueing something stupid and Trent Cochin stepping up on the night of nights.

RESULTS - Round 3

Round 3 coughed up a few surprises, not the least the victory to the mighty Shinboners on Sunday evening. A great day for Jack; misery for Lyndon. A tense Saturday night for Syd as the Bombers almost handed the Suns a rare victory. And there's been no word from the Collingwood/Carlton home down in Melbourne. More urgent than the well-being of their relationship, the clash was no good for Romeo and Juliet's ladder position.  We want to know who they tipped!

For us tipsters, a new Champ has risen to the throne. Patrick finds himself at the top for the very first time in 6 years of tipping, sending John a whopping 10 places down the ladder. 'A testament to perseverance' he calls it. Patrick and I now consider ourselves the Posh and Becks of the Backpocket. The Brad and Angelina. The Will and Kate.

The big movers this week were Gai and David and the Barking Dog Gary with 6 rungs apiece. James, Justine and Cath rose 7. Patrick's already feeling paranoid up there and thinks 'Justine, a newcomer and unknown quantity, could be a smokey!'

And at the end of Round 3, Carlton are the Premiers; Eddie Betts takes the Norm Smith, and Kennedy Josh (Sydney) the Brownlow.

RESULTS ROUND 2

(click on the image for a better view)

It may have been a fairly predicatble week on the field, with 7 out of 9 home teams taking the Easter chocolates. But it was anything but stable in the backpocket. We had some big movers this week - in both directions!

Let's start with the up. The three perfect nines served their owners well this week.  Down there in Melbourne, Romeo and Juliet rocketed 9 places up the ladder to lucky seventh. That kind of positive is just what they need ahead of this week's Friday night blockbuster. They will indeed be star crossed: she a Magpie, he a Blue. It's destined to be a bad outcome down there. 13 year old Miro topped the round (by one margin point!) and jumped 10 spots ... and all from Vietnam! But the climber of the week award goes to Mark Swivel who launched 11 places into sixth. Bravo Swiv.

On the downward slope, 8 year old Byron M dropped 13 places. But I can personally vouch for his effort closer to the ball. His enthusiasm and spirit in the O'Reilly stand surely helped the Swans ward off the late Freo challenge on Saturday afternoon. The shock of the round came from defending champ Lyndon, who dropped an unprecedented 26 places to go from third to the wooden spoon. I am hoping that this is the result of three young children on school holidays and a camping trip ... rather than some AFL.com malfunction. Should the error be of his own hand, he will nonetheless be soothed by the Cats' come-from-behind win. Here is how Lyndon framed himself for you (as a member of last week's top 5):

1. I love the Cats.
2. I still love Gary Ablett, I still love Gary Ablett Jnr and I still see a place in the AFL for Nathan Ablett.
3. I love Jimmy Bartel.
4. I start 2012 much like 2011, holding my breath to see how the older players get through.
5. The Snouthlings have split. (Lyndon tipped with his beautiful Mrs last year! - ed) I spent last years winnings on a trip to Melbourne to see the Cats v Hawks in the finals.  We don't talk footy anymore!
 
John, Patrick and Mathilde need to lift in the profile department. And Sharolyn and Shaar may jump on board.

Word from LANTERZ

Nigel (aka Lanternz) sent this through during the week. Nigel was responsible for recruiting our current leader John (aka Backpocket) last season.

Dear Tipsmistress,

Current top of the ladder "Backpocket" and I often have a mutual commentary on the team at selection and recent discussions prompt me to share the following with your loyal readers. "Backpocket" is a life long Swans supporter and a very keen observer of the game. We understand that player field positions appearing in the announced team are largely about spin and obfuscation but sometimes it is cause for thought. And so the team to play Freo prompted the following exchange:

Lanternz: Pleased to see they have listened to you and dropped Everitt. Great to see Shaw back and in a nice attacking position on the wing. LRT at FF seems a good idea but will they really play him there? Where was he last week?

Backpocket: Here's the thing. If we are to win the flag we will almost certainly have to beat Hawthorn at some point in the finals. To do that we have to curb Franklin. He annihilated Richards in the elimination final last year. Grundy was out but would he do any better? I don't think so. I think Grundy would be too slow and Franklin would carve him up. That leaves LRT who I think could match and possibly negate Franklin. He has the speed, strength and skill. He has always played his best football in the back half, who can forget his stunning job in the 2005 Grand Final. So what is the point of him playing forward now when I bet you they will have him on Franklin whether they like it or not because he will be the only one who can do the job? I'd have him concentrating on a defensive role from now on, so that he will be ready to take on Franklin when the time comes. I'd have picked White and dropped Malceski. That said it will be a tough job today. It's a beautiful day here and quite warm so rotations are going to be very important. Naturally I've tipped the Swannies but it will be a tight game. I reckon we will get a crowd of 30,000.

Now, dear Tipsmistress, we know that Horse must be a regular reader of your column and we see a great opportunity to guide him towards the FLAG this year if we all pitch in and offer such sound advice as Backpocket has offered. Although I understand he has now (post match) reversed his opinion on Malceski as he did last year in his opinion of Mike Pyke.

Your loyal reader,

Lanternz

AND THE MARGIN PICKING WINNER IS ...

Bravo. Cath's tipping fee is refunded to her thanks to the J@TS Fund for Margin Excellence.

ROUND 1 - GETTING TO KNOW YOU

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A few weeks ago, I streamed the Sydney Swans Guernsey presentation. In twelve years of membership, I have never attended or watched a Guernsey presentation. I have been content with skimming the captain’s speech the morning after and stealing away a quote or two for the parenthood file. But this year, I watched it live, from start to finish. I was working on something that needed accompaniment. I was knitting the final few stripes of a red and white scarf for my godson. It felt like Christmas eve, the boys being wrapped up in their red and white, me finishing a gift ‘til the wee hours.

My 8 year old godson moved from Sydney to Melbourne last year. J was born and raised in Balmain under the regime of his father, a Wests Tigers Cyclops. 
 ‘You’re going to have to pick a team,’ I told him before their departure. His full lips smiled in innocence.
‘Well he won’t be going for the Storm.’ That’s all the help his father gave him.

‘He’ll have to have a team,’ I urged his mother, whose interest in football cannot even be sparked by deltoids. ‘It’s got to be Sydney,’ I urged, trying to load my suggestion with a ‘this is the way you do things in my code’ authority.

There’s a great responsibility in passing on the code. I never had it taught to me. I was a Sydney kid, the youngest of two daughters, born to a Frenchman, a proxy son raised on European soccer and West Indian cricket. I assume that footy is like a foreign language; learning it unaware in childhood is a far more fluid process than tackling it as an adult. Children learn intuitively, adults learn with effort.

I almost failed in my own backyard. The Cygnet celebrated his first birthday on the day of the Swans’ winning grand final. The two year old Cygnet was rewarded with attendance at the losing grand final. The Sunday after the big game, he stood on his stool at the breakfast table and pointed at the sports pages.

 ‘Who are the blue and yellow ones?’

‘The Eagles. They’re the Eagles,’ I replied. ‘They won. But we don’t go for them.’

‘I do.’ He was born emphatic. He climbed from his stool and called himself an Eaglet for almost three years. Dad encouraged his freedom to choose with navy and yellow socks from a work trip to the west and the club song on YouTube. I feigned acceptance, hoping it would pass. He flirted with the Bombers for a moment too, his grandfather’s team. I called him the Bomblet – a cluster bomb component designed to cause serious, widespread destruction.

‘Merchandise,’ said a wise friend. ‘Get him merchandise.’ I bought him a Barry Hall badge.

But it wasn’t until he joined the Newtown Swans Under 6s that the conversion was finally achieved. Each Saturday morning, he pulled the number 16 jersey over his head and called himself Gary Rohan.

*

Children are naturally equipped for team barracking. The seven year old Cygnet uses all sorts of tribes – real and imaginary – to make sense of his world. This year, grade 2 is obsessed with Star Wars. Without any previous exposure, in one short term the Cygnet has gotten to know all the characters. And I mean all of them.  He knows if they are good or bad, what planet they come from, what they wear, what skills they have, what weapons they carry, what apparatus they drive, which episodes they play in, whether they survive and if they have ever been elevated to LEGO minifigure status. 

But it’s not enough to have one tribe. You need a second, a kind of metaphoric net for your first. Recently it’s been Canimals – a collection of can-bound animal creatures who get up to mischief while the humans of their house are out and about. I’ve watched the Cygnet simply jump on board: learn the names and strengths of the members, pick a favourite, get your friends on board, watch them on TV and beg for a bit of merchandise. Does it remind you of anything? 

Motherhood often involves living with a most unlikely confluence of things, things which stretch my own understanding of what is going on around me. The cross fertilisation between our children’s lives, they ways they live their passions, and our own, is possibly the greatest unspoken joy of parenthood. Perhaps it was the Cygnet’s recent dual tribalism which prepared me best for Round 1.

*

The build up for the Sydney Derby was genuinely big. Has the Sydney Town Hall threshold ever before been guarded by a giant, inflatable Sherrin?

On the Saturday night, we snaked west in three lanes of traffic. It was after 6pm and 23 degrees. We played at spotting supporters in the adjacent vehicles. Everything was territory that night, even the helium balloons of the car yards on Parramatta Road. ‘Nissan goes for the Swans!’ remarked the Cygnet.

As we wound our way around the stadium by foot, we saw the first groups of those orange caps. I got a shiver down my spine. It was just like Christmas morning, unwrapping the gift you knew you had coming, but didn’t quite believe you’d get. ‘A rival, I got a rival!’ The teams stood face to face for the anthem. I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck at the first bounce. ‘Guess we can’t call out “C’mon Sydney” now.’

The night itself felt a little surreal. It may have had something to do with the stand alone status; our Round 1 did feel a bit like being in the remedial group, forced to start early. But throughout the night, we pieced this new tribe together. The grown ups passed the Record up and down, while the kids got started on nicknames: Number 2, Curtly Hampton shall be henceforth known as Curly. Hoskin-Elliot is just another hyphenator. You can imagine what they did with Bugg.

And on the other side of the stadium, the newly faithful orange were going through the same thing, passing the Record up and down, looking for the big dollar recruits, calling for Folau, picking a favourite, watching them on the screen and splashing out on a bit of merchandise. All the while they clutched their ‘other team’ jerseys - royal blue and white striped, golden sashed or navy hooped – against their plastic beer cups, sookies for the night, a safety net from which they were going exploring elsewhere.

*

Last weekend, the Cygnet played his first game for the Newtown Swans Under 8s. They’ve got a new coach and new team jerseys. On the grass at Moore Park last Saturday morning, he was presented with a new number - the number 29. I love Mattner. The quiet achiever with the long left foot kick off half back (not to mention the deltoids). At training tonight, the coach, a self proclaimed Swans supporter, showed up in a Giants cap.

And J's scarf is almost finished. Like all knitting projects, it’s behind schedule. But his mother assures me he's holding firm on the Swans.

ROUND 1

(excuse the highlight of my own name ... it was a screen grab from my own login.)

Patrick has just declared from the sink, 'Gee I'm enjoying my time up the top. It will be short lived.'

The jockeying has begun. Already after Round 1, we find ourselves divided as a community, sorted into individuals. We journey alone now. After Round 1, there is pride mixed with fear; disappointment mixed with determination; doubt, doubt and then hope; the even temper of marathon mind.

Fitting that John of the Backpocket finds himself on the top rung of our ladder. Newcomer Jack, possibly the most exercised 'footy brain' among us, is clearly motivated by coming from behind. Recidivist wooden spooner, Richard, is reaching for the oxygen tanks, unaccustomed as he is to such heights as tenth. Defending Champ Lyndon is nicely positioned in third - although he has much bigger things to think about, such as how will his beloved Cats deal with losing and ... who will replace Scarlett when they front up to Hawthorn this week? Lucas has struck a healthy ninth in his first year alone - striking out from Mum Sally. Perfect that a Tigers supporter should find himself in ninth! For the rest of us, it's elbows out and bustle, bustle.

And I'd like to know ... did anyone tip Port Adelaide??

As for the J@TS Round 1 Margin Trophy, it would appear that three of us are in contention: Myself and Lyndon, with 64 and Cath with 62. I trust Tony will put us all in his backpocket and let us know who makes it out first.

Tiger Diary

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According to Chinese horoscopes,
here in this year of the Dragon
the pairing of a tiger and a dragon gives

A highly competitive and explosive pair.

There's not a strong Chinese presence on the field for Richmond once again this year,
but you've gotta believe in something.

I Believe in the Tigers.

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It's Coming

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They come like small soldiers over the horizon, one by one, indiscernible at first. Signs. A single article about the benefits of off season altitude training, Arizona or the Himalayas. It doesn’t amount to anything. Some time later, the next time you turn to look ahead, there are more of them. They are armed. The plea from the club urging you for the thirteenth time this summer to conscript your children to the cause. It’s getting a little more urgent. Something about a pack of Giants coming to do battle, a cup, something of national importance. But you tell yourself it’s only the mirage of a dream; it’s too early to wake yet.

Then, on Monday afternoon, an unsuspecting February afternoon, the Cygnet comes home, kits up, pumps up the footy without a word and streaks out into the back garden. All at once, that mirage has a form. And I know it from memory. It’s come over the crest and into my back yard. ‘But it’s the first week of February,’ I mutter to myself. As I reach the back door the Cygnet has just finished marking out goalposts with two large garden stones and is lining up for a banana from under the frangipani! How many pictures do Getty Images have on file that feature footy players and frangipanis? He snaps and tears up the grass, both fingers pointed sky high.


Perhaps it’s the unusually cool weather in Sydney, or the early Chinese New Year. Perhaps it’s the end of real cricket and the start of pyjama tonking. Perhaps it’s simply the need the new school year brings to fill the hours from 3pm.

Dad gets home on that Monday afternoon. It’s still light. Summertime. A sweaty, red faced Cygnet thunders into the house on his mouldings and pleads to the right parent, ‘We need to put the goal posts up!’
‘The goal– ?’ Dad hasn’t had time to put his bag down. He looks at me blankly.
‘The goal posts,’ shrieks the Cygnet as he pulls damp garden stakes from beside the bins.

Perhaps it’s an overriding sense of urgency brought on by the introduction of an eighteenth team – got to get stuck in early or we’ll never get it all done – or simply the adrenalin of a two team town in the making.

Dad obediently takes hammer and gloves to the garden and I watch amazed through the folded arms of the hills hoist as the stakes go in, wood for goals, reconstituted green plastic for behinds. It’s the sixth of February.


I return to the kitchen bench, to fillets of pink salmon, cucumbers and cherry tomatoes fresh from the garden. As I chop and assemble, an unreal sound scape hangs on the evening breeze.

‘Goodes takes it, Goodes has it. There’s nothing Bartel can do.’
‘Bartel is on Goodes?’ I wonder.
‘Goodes runs, he snaps. This move’s got everything there is to do in footy.’
The first quarter sounds on Dad’s mobile phone. They’ve got til six o’clock. There’s water on the back step.
‘Now Bartel has the bounce.’
‘Bartel is rucking?’ I wonder.
‘Bartel with the ball now, he turns, he’s got nowhere to go, he handballs– oh lovely intercept by Goodes. Goodes runs, Goodes shoots!’ The roar of two meets the goal.
‘Goodes now. He runs the length of the field, he bounces, he bounces again, a third bounce …’
‘Gee, his bouncing has improved,’ I remark.
‘He’s coming, Bartel can’t stop him alone. It looks a certain– but wait!’ comes the cry.

I run to the back steps. Another cat is on the outside wing, belting down the concrete alongside the colorbond fence. Our Christmas kitten likes footy too it seems and she’s as good as her name would suggest. She chases the ball all the way into the lavender. We think she’ll stay on the wing. Like all cats, she likes to be the one standing at the end of the scuffle.


At six they come in. It’s Goodes by a good 30 + points. He scoffs a huge plate of fish and veg and hits the sack by 8 – definitely a bonus of the footy season.

*

That same Monday night, I sat down to my evening’s communion with self. All it takes sometimes is one thing, one trigger. One person announces the cause and suddenly everybody’s on board. An email came in that night: Toyota AFL Dream Team is back for 2012 and it's bigger and better than ever! The domino had been flicked. Half an hour later: Meet the Swans and Kick Start the Auskick Season! Two days later and I’m suddenly aware that it’s the Swans’ thirtieth anniversary in Sydney this year. I’m suddenly aware that it’s the first ever Sydney derby on March 24th. Had you already realised it’s a stand alone Round 1 match? Before long, there will be footy boots permanently on the back verandah. There will be three Sherrins on the lawn and one on the neighbour’s and a row of red and white synthetics on the line. And the weekends will be tent poled by someone else’s fixture.