Sunday, 20 May 2007

Throwing yourself off tall buildings is fun

In the all-time league table of shit weekends this one should be in contention for the double chance. For the last two days I've been as sick as a dog with my head feeling like it's going to fall off. The first indication of this was when I, for no apparent reason and despite being embarrasingly sober, puked everywhere in a taxi on Friday night. And didn't that cost me? Then after two days of barely being able to move, with my neck and shoulders feeling as if they've been beaten with a baseball bat I get to drag myself off my deathbed and watch Melbourne play, and presumably be murdered by, the premiers in Perth. The only thing that could make it any worse - other than not being able to chuck a sickie tomorrow due to a work schedule that a WW2 POW would flinch at - would be if I was the victim of a violent home invasion sometime this evening.

Shall we see how this one goes? Well christ we may as well, I'm sure that even 15 minutes before the game starts we all know what's going to happen next. Even the Fox Sports program guide is mocking our chances of winning. Rightly so too may I add. Is it too defeatist to just ask for a big effort?

And duly the game opened with anything but. Had the Eagles been able to kick straight we would have been looking at an apocalypse of Richmond-esque proportions. The gap between the two sides was embarassing as for all the tagging and cheating in the world the Eagles midfield carved us to shreds. How many sides have had 3 inside 50's in one quarter recently. Even teams who score nothing in a quarter usually get it inside more, it just comes out more often. This was 30 minutes of pain and suffering. 5.8 to 1 straight with Sylvia dropping one in the goalsquare, Bate failing to make the distance from 50 and Nathan Carroll not travelling in the same time zone as his direct opponent all pointed to evil being afoot.

The second quarter was more of the same. Nobody was fooled by us kicking the first goal it continued to be an apocalpyse through the centre, and again only wonky kicking kept us within a respectable margin. James McDonald kicked one after the siren - after obviously marking it after the siren as well - to round the quarter off but as we went into half time more than 40 points down you had to wonder just how ugly this was going to get - especially when our midfield started to tire later on. You know it was a game exactly like this that Neale Balme got the sack after. Just saying. That night Leigh "Juice" Newton kicked two of our three goals, now he sits in a coaching box that must be inches away from shut down under the Trade Practices Act for false and misleading advertising.

So we came back in the third. Got to within four goals and then fell apart faster than Michael Jackson's proverbial and got belted.

Votes? Fuck must we?

5 - Johnstone
4 - Sylvia
3 - McDonald
2 - Green
1 - Petterd

Leaderboard? We don't need no god damn leaderboard.

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